#like let us see the struggle and discomfort in learning that uncomfortable lesson

[redxluna]

I've always found it interesting that, apparently, for some people the show's efforts to sanitize Mustafa into perfection actually worked against them in people still using the writing to point out flaws of his unintentionally included by the show that made them dislike him.

In this most recent re-watch, the one to stand out to me regarding that so far is how Mustafa, after learning that Ibrahim cheated on Hatice, basically lets him off with a pat on the back and a sort of, "Hey, my aunt's real 'sensitive', you know? So don't do that again, buddy."

If this is truly meant to be the most gallant and noble out of all the şehzades, then why is it so easy for him to wave off harm done to his aunt? Not to mention, we're later treated to Mustafa, after Ibrahim's downfall, swearing that Ibrahim could never have betrayed his father...as if the man hadn't openly been exposed for betraying another dynasty member he was meant to be loyal to in recent memory.

[earlgreydream]

after.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. loki, but he's so rough during sex, it hurts, and aftercare is absolute bliss afterwards? & AFTERCARE WITH LOKI 

a/n: I’m combining these requests. love dom!loki and soft!loki

cw: dark!loki, sliiiiight dubcon (consensual), aggression, general rough smut, spanking, light anal play, brief exhibitionism, mild degradation, implied subspace, etc

“Are you about done acting out?” Loki asked you, his lips just below your ear, sending chills down your spine. You were sat on his lap on the throne, and you’d spent the last hour or so grinding against him while he was trying to have important meetings with Thor and the royal guard.

“I don’t think so,” you confessed, biting back a smile. You were enjoying riling him up, getting revenge for the many times Loki had tortured and teased you. 

“My darling, my patience with your disobedience is wearing thin,” Loki warned, and you rolled back, putting significant pressure on his rock-hard length below you.

Loki made a throaty noise, and Thor cut off mid-sentence. 

“Continue, brother,” Loki ordered, and Thor gave the two of you a look before he continued speaking. Loki’s hands gripped your waist, trying to keep you from squirming and rubbing your ass against him. 

“If you do not stop, I will fuck you on this throne in front of this entire room of people. You want to be seen acting like a whore so bad, I’ll let you.”

His words echoed down your spine, and your face heated, a visible blush spreading across your skin. You felt his dark laughter against your back, pleased with the way the threat suddenly turned you shy.

His knees pushed your legs apart and you were shaking your head, pleading soft apologies to Loki. Your confidence and deviance crumbled, and you were weak at his fingertips. You very suddenly came to regret your actions, and Loki hummed against your shoulder, warning you against trying to close your legs.

Thor kept speaking, but his eyes narrowed as Loki’s hand moved to your front, very openly cupping your sex in your skirt, in front of everyone. Your skin was burning, the heat spreading over your body in a blazing fire of need and embarrassment.

“Loki...” you whimpered, and he hushed you. Thor tripped over his words as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Thor watching Loki play with you. You knew what to say to stop Loki, but you couldn’t, because a sick part of you was secretly enjoying this.

A strangled whimper escaped you as Loki pushed his fingers forward particularly hard. Thor stopped speaking completely, watching Loki’s glistening fingers slide in and out of your soaked pussy. You hadn’t worn any panties under your dress, wanting to work Loki up as much as possible.

Truly, you hadn’t expected to be punished like this. Loki wasn’t often a fan of public humiliation, but seeing how wet it made you, and how you suddenly got shy and obedient was all the convincing it took.

You bit your lip fiercely, struggling to keep from squealing and crying out. Loki mouthing along your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear about Thor watching you get your pussy filled with his fingers, didn’t help you stay quiet and still.

“Loki, please,” you were begging, what for, you weren’t sure.

“Please what, little one?” Loki was going to make you work for it. Your whole body tensed as the coil tightened in your belly, Loki’s fingers stroking the spot that had your mind shutting down.

“I need to come,” your plea came out much louder than intended, but it made no difference, everyone in the room had their eyes locked on you since this started.

“Go on then, scream my name to all of our subjects, let them know who you belong to.”

The coil snapped and you orgasmed with a scream, Loki’s name echoing through the high ceilings of the throne room. Your legs were shaking and you grabbed his forearms to steady yourself, your release dripping down your thighs and onto Loki’s lap.

A high pitched shriek was ripped from you when Loki slapped your sensitive core, and you jolted from the sting. Even Thor flinched slightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy a second time, drawing out your humiliation and adding pain to the punishment. Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, and Loki mocked your embarrassment.

“Shy, little one? You didn’t seem so shy when you were misbehaving all evening.”

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and draping you over his shoulder. Your skirt was still flipped up, revealing your ass and slick, swollen cunt to everyone you walked by. The tears were now falling freely, and you squirmed helplessly.

Loki slapped where your ass met the back of your thigh, leaving a handprint, the sound bouncing off of the walls. You cried out in pain as he squeezed the area before carrying you through the throne room.

“We’ll have to finish this meeting later!” Loki called after himself, parading you through the halls as he took you to his chambers. When you started to speak to apologize, he spanked you, not wanting to hear it.

Loki practically threw you on the bed, and he tore off your dress, leaving you naked. His own clothes vanish in a glimmer of green, and you were caught under his sadistic, predatory gaze.

“On your knees,” Loki commanded, and you scrambled to obey, kneeling before him as he leaned against a golden wall. Magic bound your hands behind your back, and the tip of Loki’s cock brushed your lips.

“If you resist me, I’ll let Thor use your mouth next,” Loki threatened, getting you to immediately open your mouth so he could slip inside.

His pale fingers threaded into your hair and found a grip, holding you steady as he fucked your throat. Tears rolled down your cheeks faster than before, and all you could do was kneel before your king and take him. You did your best to please him, hollowing your cheeks and humming around him, trying to get him to come faster. You were choking and unable to breathe, and the feeling of your struggle had Loki coming in hot ribbons down your throat, shooting his seed straight into your tummy.

You gasped for air, heaving oxygen into your lungs when he pulled out, your head dropping forward as you caught your breath.

“You will not disobey me again.” Loki smacked your cheek lightly and you immediately answered.

“No, Loki.”

His hand wrapped around your arm and he lifted you to your feet, your hands becoming free from the bonds. You thought you were free until he hauled you onto the bed, your wrists being secured to the headboard as you laid on your stomach. Fear prickled up your spine, knowing your punishment wasn’t over.

You’d learned your lesson about teasing Loki and being disobedient, and after this you swore to yourself you’d never do it again.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” your voice was quiet, and Loki looked at you silently.

“Pull your knees to your chest,” he ordered, and you did so before letting your head fall back down onto the duvet.

He stared at you, bent over and exposed for him, prolonging your anxious anticipation. He moved behind you, out of your view. You felt the bed dip behind you, Loki kneeling on the bed, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. He traced the red handprint on your ass, making you twitch slightly at the touch.

Something cold and made of metal slid through your folds, making you jump.

“I’ll slap you if you move again,” Loki’s tone was stern, and you held still, wondering what the tear-shaped object was for. He gathered your arousal on it, and you jerked your hands fruitlessly against the magic as he pressed it lightly to your tight ring of muscle.

Barely a second passed before his hand connected with your skin, leaving another stinging handprint on your backside.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need it, I’ll behave,” you promised, stumbling over your words as you weakly protested the metal being slowly pushed into your ass.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to see your pretty hole stretch around this gold plug,” Loki’s voice dripped with sadistic pleasure, sending shivers through your body.

You hid your face in the duvet, fighting not to squirm away as he slowly pressed it inside of you. The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable, and incredibly shameful. Your body betrayed you, displaying your cunt growing wetter as Loki eased it all the way inside of you. A choked whine of pain tumbled from your lips, but you didn’t use your safe word. You hated the feeling of being stretched but you knew you deserved it for your misbehavior, and you didn’t want to object to Loki.

He leaned back on his heels and admired you, the gold peeking out of your slightly trembling body. He watched you shake from a mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, overstimulation, and utter and complete ecstasy, a devious smile pulling at his lips.

He was painfully hard again, and he very much intended to tear you up before forgiving your transgressions. His anger has now faded, though he was enjoying scaring you a healthy amount. He enforced his rules, and taught you what happened when you disobeyed.

You knew he wouldn’t be merciful and let you off, and you were thankful he’d let you come at his fingers, even if it was in the presence of the throne room.

You laid in front of Loki, moaning loudly as he fucked into you with one thrust. Your muscles burned as they stretched to try to accommodate his size, but he offered no reprieve before snapping his hips against yours, railing you. He pushed on the gold, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your mind melted from the sensation of being painfully full.

You couldn’t help but cry as Loki brutally fucked you, abusing your aching core as he hit your cervix, buried deeper in you than you thought possible. You were choking on oxygen, your mind completely empty as you took him in, searching for pleasure.

The pain of how hard he was fucking you had tears flowing thick down your cheeks and choked whimpers escaping you. Loki brought a hand around to your clit, taking pity on you and giving you some relief to the sharp pain. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, taking me so well, like a good, obedient slut,” Loki finally offered you some praise, even if it was slightly degrading.

The words soothed over your fright, and your eyes rolled back as he slammed into you, your mind fading. His thrusts became less rhythmic, his hips stuttering. You were familiar with the feeling, and in a few seconds, you felt him spill into you, pumping you full of his release and coating your aching walls with the sticky white seed. You sighed softly in relief as he pulled the metal from you, tossing it aside. He slowly eased out of your sex, his magic dissolving the bonds on your wrists.

You fell limp once you were no longer restrained, and Loki admired your fucked-out body. Your mind was cloudy and a shudder wracked your body as you adjusted to the sudden relief.

“Little one,” Loki spoke softly, the usual gentleness returning to his voice. His hands smoothed gently up your back, green sparks penetrating into your muscles and dissolving some of the ache. 

You hummed weakly, acknowledging Loki calling out his term of endearment for you. Your breath caught as he flipped you onto your back, and you winced as the aching between your legs became a painful throb, the endorphins wearing off.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” Loki’s fingers tenderly brushed over your cheek, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. 

“We’re going to get you cleaned up, alright? It’s over now,” Loki leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and hugging him. 

“I need you to speak, darling.”

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice raspy from Loki brutalizing your throat. He laughed softly, kissing your cheek and wiping the remaining tears that were staining your skin.

“I love you more than all of the stars.”

You whimpered as he lifted you, carrying to into the basin and stepping in with you. The warm water engulfed your body, filled with salts and oils from the finest markets of Asgard. Loki rested you against his broad chest, careful of your muscles. 

He lifted a glass from a small table next to the tub, putting it to your lips and urging you to drink the water. You ignored the soreness in your throat and leaned back against Loki’s stable body, swallowing the contents of the glass. Loki took his time cleaning you up, gently lathering your body with sweet-scented soaps. 

He massaged your head as he washed your hair, brushing his fingers through the locks. You’d been turned around for that, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he worked shampoo and conditioner through your hair. He’d pestered you to eat some of the grapes from a bowl nearby, kissing your forehead and praising you. 

“I’m sorry for teasing,” you apologized softly, and Loki gently adjusted you so you were looking up at him. He tilted your chin up, gazing down at you with love and lightly pecking your lips before speaking.

“I’m not angry. You don’t need to be sorry anymore,” he promised, holding you in his arms, trying to snap you out of your foggy headspace.

You protested to being lifted out of the bath, and Loki hushed you gently, drying you off and helping you into silk clothing. Your legs were weak and you held onto Loki’s arms as you stood by the hearth. He helped you onto the lounger, snuggling you into his chest and handing you a piece of bread with honey drizzled over it. You ate it and curled up into your warm lover, basking in his attention as he cared for you. He lifted a book from the table and began to read to you, his smooth voice lulling you into dreams. He pressed into your mind, filling your head with sweet thoughts and guarding you against nightmares. 

He listened to your steady heartbeat as he played with your hair and the fabric draped over your body. He loved how sweet and cuddly you got after sex, blissed-out and your mind empty except for a desire to be close to him. He adored you, and everything about you, and these moments of closeness were his favorite. 

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter One

Ao3,   MasterPost,   

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

Warnings: Touch-starvation, crying, meltdown, general angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2,983

The carpet beneath his legs felt like sandpaper, rough and scratching. It was the kind of rug someone could find at their grandma’s house, the kind that you roll around on with the family dog when you’re little, even though it rubs your skin red if you lay still too long. It was painful, but a comfort. Familiar. 

Patton sat unmoving on that itchy carpet, curled tight into a little ball and pressed into the very smallest corner of his room. His bed was just a foot or two away, but it offered no appeal to him. And, supposing it did, he probably wouldn’t have had the strength to make it there anyway. 

The discomfort at least gave him something to focus that wasn’t his miserable little problem. 

Patton’s breath came in with little hiccups, each one weaker than the last until he shook with lightheadedness. He couldn’t tell if he was crying, yet, but it was more likely than not. He couldn’t focus on much else other than the pure feeling overwhelming him, filling up his lungs. It was all too much.

He was too much.

That was the root of the issue; he was overbearing, he was overeager, he was overexcited- always over, and never just right. Never just right, and the only times he got close was when he wasn’t enough. Not smart, not patient, not… respectful. 

He’d just needed- wanted- needed?- he’d wanted a hug, that was all. But of course, he couldn’t have just asked. He forgot; who forgets to do something so important? Just because he was giddy didn’t mean he was allowed to do something like that!

Logan had given quite the lecture when Patton had pulled away from him, mere seconds after he realized he wasn’t being held in return. Shame and embarrassment welled up in him at once. The intellectual side had looked so uncomfortable with what he’d done to him, and his rant had reflected that just as much. Patton apologized profusely right afterwards, of course he had- and Logan forgave him easily, looking remorseful himself for the outburst. He’d even offered, now that he was prepared for it, to give Patton the attention he’d been looking for. It was so generous, and sweet, and kind. 

And obviously Patton couldn’t accept. He’d done enough already, so instead he declined, and with one last apology excused himself, darting up to his room to… 

Well, to do this.

And it wasn’t that he’d upset Logan, that wasn’t what hurt. Logan forgave quickly- a privilege usually only reserved for Patton when it came to such a stubborn side as him- and he knew his best friend did care for him. It wasn’t even the guilt that hurt, because he was perfectly used to that emotion. 

It was his skin, the burning. The lack. The need for something- anything- any display of affection that he didn’t have to struggle his way through initiating.

Patton’s hiccupping was devolving into sobbing by this point- he was overreacting, he knew he was overreacting, but now that he’d started he just couldn’t stop. And he got louder, louder, and louder, and he couldn’t choke it back. But between his gasps, he began to hear, distantly, the tell-tale sound of footsteps in the hallway.

 Patton clamped his hand down over his mouth immediately, biting down on the side of it to stifle the whimpering. He hoped and prayed it wasn’t Logan, because he just knew that his friend would try so hard to help, even when what Patton needed was so touchy and clingy. But he shouldn’t have to deal with that.

Nobody should. 

So, he held his breath.

As the footfalls grew closer, however, Patton realized that they were much too heavy and thumping to be Logan’s. His steps were quick and light, but this person’s shoes came down with force, possible platforms, and- oh.

Oh no, not that, anyone but that- 

The door cracked against the wall as it was slammed open. Patton flinched, recoiling into his ‘hiding spot’ and hoping beyond hope that he was wrong about who it was.

Then Remus walked fully into the room, big chunky boots knocking against the carpet, and his worst fears were realized.

Of all the people to see him like- like this, it had to be the side that liked him the least. Not that he could blame Remus, because after everything he’d done to him it was certainly deserved, but that did nothing to assuage the terror blooming in his chest.

Remus gave the room a scan, clearly searching for something; he must’ve heard the crying. His gaze fell on Patton soon enough, and when it did his eyes widened to big, excited circles. 

Patton pressed his back against the wall, knowing anything in the world could happen to him now. He knew better than to think that Remus was a monster, someone come to torture him till he was dead as something like him could be, by now. He’d learned that lesson after the acceptance, after fighting to move past those judgements. 

But that didn’t mean Remus wouldn’t mock him, or poke and prod him in this vulnerable state, or any other number of smaller hurts that Patton most certainly had coming from the intrusive side. And the worst of that was he didn’t know, he had no clue what would happen, because Remus was Remus, the least predictable creature he’d ever met. What if he just left? Left and told everyone what he’d seen and now everyone would look at Patton with nothing but pity from now on, and they’d feel so guilty when they didn’t shower him with unearned attention. 

“Oh, shit,” there was a sharp hiss, and then Remus had teleported right in front of Patton, crouching down to his level. The moral side would have recoiled, but he found that he was already cowering as much as he possibly could.

Patton’s face was pressed against his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He tried to control the small, distressed sounds that continued to escape him, but the efforts were useless when he felt calloused hands tugging at his wrists. He yelped.

“Now- Now’s not a- a good ti-me,” he gasped out, voice cracking like a child’s. He regretted the words at once, feeling the fingers on his skin still. 

“I can see that, Pat.”

What was he thinking? There was no way Remus would leave now, now that he knew Patton didn’t want him there- not without teasing and badgering Patton until he got bored, at least. Why couldn’t he have just been better in the past, then maybe he wouldn’t be at the mercy of someone who more-or-less hated him? Why had it taken him so long to get things right- why did it always happen that way?!

“Hey, hey, look at me.”

Patton hesitated, sure that when he looked up he’d see Remus shapeshifting his face to something horrible and grotesque. Eventually, though, the tugging at his arms and the ache of his eyelids pressing against his knees broke him, and he glanced up.

And there was Remus. Just Remus. Looking as normal as he ever could have. Worried, even.

“There, that’s good- uhm, I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” A toothy smile crossed his face, “Wow, never expected to hear myself say something like that, hah. I’m serious, though- which also feels weird to say!”

Patton stared at him in utter confusion. At the concern etching his face. That expression just didn’t seem to fit on the Duke’s face, looking out of place across his leathery skin and overly large features.

“You- you aren’t?”

Remus snorted, rolling his eyes (literally, a full 360 degree rotation) and scrunching up his nose.

“What, I’m gonna find you whimpering and bawling your eyes out like a newly-orphaned baby, sit down with a bowl of popcorn, and heckle the shit out of you?”

Patton glanced back down at his knees and went quiet. A ‘no’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he and Remus both hated lying, so he swallowed it back. The only thing he could say was:

“I’m sorry.”

Remus blinked, dropping out of his crouch to sit cross-legged in front of Patton. 

“Nah, don’t be. I wouldn’t have put it past me from like, two months ago, anyway.”

Patton lowered his legs a bit, if only because the position made them sore. He angled his head to the side, puzzled.

“What changed?”

Remus spent a moment very obviously trying to decipher if the question was genuine. 

“Uh, you stopped being a dick?”

Patton’s confusion only mounted, so much so that he hardly noticed the swearing.

“I did?”

“Yeah? Teary apology to me n’ everything,” Remus gave a noncommittal shrug, “Plus, you might be a prude, but you haven’t tried to boss me around in like… weeks.”

“Oh. Um,” Patton blanched, his fingers splayed out on his knees. He hadn’t thought such a simple apology would earn him anything near forgiveness- even when it first happened, guilt soaking every word from his mouth, Remus had laughed incredulously and brushed it off. And he’d read that as a refusal to accept the apology, but...

Remus let go of his wrists, opting instead to pick at his own claws. It seemed he was starting to realize just how out of place he seemed, sitting so casually in Patton’s room like this.

“Do you want me to get someone else to, like, cuddle you and talk about feelings or whatever? I don’t have a lot of experience with this whole comforting thing.”

Patton paled, panicked to think anyone else should have to be subjected to this.

“No!” 

Patton felt himself flush embarrassedly when Remus startled, and dropped his words to a whisper.

“I mean- I don’t want anyone else to see… this. But you can still go, if you want.”

There was a moment’s deliberation.

“Alright,” Remus said simply. 

Patton gave him as much of a smile as he could manage, waiting for the trait to leave. He tried to ease the disappointment he felt with the relief of knowing that he’d made it out of this conversation unharmed, but.

But the Duke made no move to leave. 

He clearly picked up on Patton’s perplexion, and frowned.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you like this.”

“Oh- oh, um, thank you, that’s- You don’t need to-”

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton hesitated, hunching his shoulders up. Did he? Did he really want to be alone? Again? But when the alternative was- well, he really didn’t know what it was. But it didn’t seem quite as bad as loneliness (few things would be). 

“I’ll take your panicked silence as a ‘no, don’t leave’,” Remus announced, and- that was probably a good call, yeah. “So, do you wanna talk about it?”

Patton shook his head fiercely, like the question had struck him physically.

“Alriiight,” Remus drawled, “Do you want, I dunno, a hug?”

God, yes, more than anything- but he couldn’t… he couldn’t just! Take that!!

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that for me, I-”

“I know I don’t have to,” Remus said, “I volunteered to.” 

Patton stared at him, eyes blown wide as a painful sort of hope grew in his chest.

“I- I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” he retorted, sounding amused but not cruelly so. He outstretched his arms, opening them wide, and the offer was much more tempting than it should have been. “C’mere. I can’t promise it’ll be pleasant, obviously, but you don’t look too picky right now.”

Patton sat up straighter, leaning forwards on his knees. He let his hands fall to the carpet, inching just a bit closer. Each movement was halting, giving Remus as many chances as possible to take back his offer. When they were finally close enough, Patton reached out his hands, stopped them, and reached a little further, until just barely were his arms circled around the other’s torso. 

The reaction was immediate; Remus surged forward and coiled his arms tightly around Patton’s back. He gripped tight before rocking back, essentially dragging the much taller side into his lap and holding him there. 

And Patton could hesitate just a second more before his resolve crumbled, and he threw his arms around the Duke with force. He buried his face in the glittery fabric of Remus’ shoulder, finding it softer than he’d always expected. He didn’t attempt to hold back the crying now- not that he could, he wasn’t in any state of mind for self-control now that this was happening.

A hand found its way to Patton’s back, gently tracing up his shoulder blades and then back down. Another pressed against his hip, from an arm that was secure around his waist. 

It was an indescribable relief. Remus had been wrong- so wrong: the embrace was the furthest thing from unpleasant. Sure, he may have smelled like rotted meat and mold, his slick-with-grease hair brushing the side of Patton’s face, but none of it mattered at all to how perfect the contact was. It was grounding, Remus’ arms sturdy. Whenever Patton was hugged, there was the anxiety that came with knowing it would end soon, but in that moment he felt nothing but security. Because it didn’t seem like this one would end after a measly few seconds, not with the way Remus held him. 

He didn’t let go at all. When Patton started sobbing in earnest against his shirt, he gripped somehow tighter. And when that crying eventually tapered out into tiny whimpers, his hand on Patton’s back moved in wide circles, nails scratching softly down the ridges of his spine. And when fifteen minutes had passed, and Morality was finally soothed, he still made no moves to let go.

Patton heaved a breath full of shuddering relief, laying his head down against Remus’ chest and listening to the erratic and rhythmless beat of his heart(s?). What little energy he had on the reserves left him, leaving him limp against the intrusive side. 

“You good now, Morey?”

Patton blinked drearily, hardly aware that he’d closed his eyes before he was prying them open again.

“I think so,” he tilted his face, a weary smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus lifted an arm to ruffle his hand through Patton’s curls, smirking.

There were a few minutes of quiet as Patton caught his breath, and eventually pulled away of his own accord. He pushed himself onto his knees and stood, hearing a few joints creak and pop in protest as he stretched. He swayed on his feet, his limbs staticky from how long he’d been in that less-than-ideal cuddling position. 

Cuddling. Which was what Patton had just done. With Remus. The weirdness of that was just starting to catch up to him, there. 

Remus  stayed on the floor, stretched his arms above his head, and cracked his knuckles with sick popping sounds as he did. He proceeded to do the same for all of his limbs and joints, bending some of them backwards for good measure. Patton looked away, but Remus really didn’t seem to be trying to upset him; it just looked like habit. 

“Well, this was nice,” Remus gave a final, crackling stretch. “Aside from the crying, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

Remus waved his hand dismissively, hopping to his feet. 

“Don’t sweat it. It’s good to get the eyes pissing when you’re feeling rough,” he (sort of) comforted. Patton shifted from foot to foot, humming in vague agreement as Remus found his way to the door. Most every word on the tip of his tongue was another kind of apology, and it was only with difficulty that he could swallow them back. 

“Thank you,” Patton muttered, “Again.” 

“Anytime!” He threw the door open, catching the frame with his claws. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and a wide, inviting smile split his face. “And I do mean that, ya know.”

And with that, Remus was gone.

Patton hovered in the center of his room, staring at the closed door. 

It was so empty now, even with all his clutter. 

He shuffled over to his bed as the exhaustion hit him, falling into the plush mattress adorned with stuffed-animals and pillows. Hesitantly, he drew his arms around his middle, hugging himself as tight as he could.

Everywhere he pressed his fingers, the skin burned and prickled with lingering heat. He missed the touch already, but even the ghost of it filled him with relief. Patton exhaled, slow and steady, as he leaned back into his pillows. He felt better than he ever had after one of his meltdowns. 

He typically dealt with them alone (he wasn't even sure if anyone other than Roman or Janus knew he had meltdowns, thanks to the wedding ordeal), and they always left him feeling cold and hollow. But this, this safety he felt, the cozy dreariness lulling him- it was cathartic. The change of pace was welcomed.

Patton’s eyes fluttered shut, and he sighed. Who knew- maybe he’d wake up to find a pile of dead mice under his bed in the morning, or a horse’s head beside his pillow, or a thick coat of effluvia all over his plushies. Maybe there would be something to indicate that the comfort had been a trick, just another way for Remus to sneak something disgusting into his room as a prank. But something told Patton that the chance of that happening wasn’t all that likely. 

Remus was, after all, very unpredictable.

Chapter Two

Taglist: @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for sticking with this. It’s quite fun to write for this ship, and I hope you’re all ready for homoerotic exercise and another argument between men who don’t know how to communicate :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Three - Proving a Point

Day Two: Tuesday

Gajeel woke in a pissy mood. This wasn't going like it was supposed to.

Freed was meant to be a smug, self important man with no practical skills, no world-hardened experiences, and no way of keeping up with what Gajeel was demanding of him. His three day plan had focused around humbling Freed, telling him that he wasn't hot-shit like he clearly thought, and making him realise that his cushioned life didn't mean he was Gajeel's equal.

What was not meant to happen was for Freed to be competent! He wasn't meant to make a shelter, he wasn't meant to be able to make a fire without a match, and he wasn't meant to be able to cook the damn fish and make them taste good! Even Gajeel couldn't do that.

Worse, the fucker knew. Oh he knew what Gajeel wanted but wasn't getting.

He hadn't been so smug when he'd lost though, had he? He hasn't been running his mouth when he'd been in the stream, gurgling his pathetic little surrender. Nah, he'd looked exactly how Gajeel wanted him; weak, embarrassed and unable to deal with the fact he was out of his league.

Sure, it hadn't taken long for Freed to recover and spout some bullshit about Gajeel being intimidated by his magic, or whatever the hell it was he said. He was trying to save face and Gajeel wouldn't let him; he had lost their fight because he couldn't live without his spells. That was impractical, short sighted and the way a spoiled brat of a man worked. No doubt if he had to rely on his fists more, he would have seen the stream as something to take advantage of and used it, rather than falling into Gajeel's trap.

Hah. At least one thing had gone Gajeel's way.

Mostly.

Kind of.

Look, Gajeel might hate the man and the things he seemed to stand for, but Freed wasn't bad looking. And Gajeel was just a man, who had been stripped to the waist with Freed in the same state of undress, wrestling one another. He was bound to get distracted for a moment. Thankfully, Freed's nasty kick to the balls and the ensuing tantrum after had quickly quelled any growing interest.

Gajeel knew what he had to do today, though. Because if he was going to fight with Freed at the end of the week, he needed to respect the man. He wasn't going to respect Freed if he couldn't take a defeat, and if he couldn't handle himself without his magic. So today, Freed was going to prove he had the ability to back up his words.

Okay, it was a tenuous reason for what he had planned, but fuck it. Fuck Freed too.

It was tempting to wake the prick up by dumping some of the water Gajeel had gathered over his sleeping face - a nice little reminder of how the fight had ended - but he decided against it. He needed to have everything prepared before he woke up, so it would be better to check that everything was in place. That, and Freed apparently snored a little when he was sleeping, and Gajeel certainly didn't want to interrupt the possible blackmail that could come from it.

And perhaps it was nice to have something cut through the silence of the forest.

Gajeel had trained in this forest many times, and as such had come to know how to utilise it's assets. He wandered slowly, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, and eventually found what he was looking for. A large tree that had fallen down years ago, and stumbled down a hill. What remained was a leafless trunk at the bottom of a steep incline, perfect for strength training.

Next, he walked to the largest upstanding tree within reasonable walking distance. Gajeel had often climbed this tree to push his agility and upper body strength, and it was the perfect way to test Freed's practical skills. The tree was still standing tall, the branches Gajeel used to climb still attached. Perfect, no excuses for when Freed fucked up.

When he got to the lake, Gajeel grinned a little. The morning was cold and the water would be freezing, the worst temperature to take a swim in. Normally Gajeel would have hated to swim in weather like this, but it would certainly be a nice wake-up call for the spoiled little Prince.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun. For Gajeel anyway.

——

"I think yesterday proved pretty damp conclusively that you're out of luck if you don't have your magic," Gajeel said with crossed arms, looking down at Freed. "So, today I'm gonna teach you a couple techniques that'll come in handy when you're in a situation where you can't spell yourself out of trouble."

Freed clearly wanted to make a comment, but held his tongue. He was learning, huh.

When Gajeel had returned from his check of the forest, Freed had woken up, set up a new fire and was using the rest of the fish (and a few berries that he had picked) to make them both a breakfast. Gajeel had wanted to reject it out of hand, but it had smelt great and if it was anywhere near as good as his meal the day before, refusing it would be a mistake. It had tasted amazing, so Gajeel had huffed out a thanks and gave a short nod of thanks.

Soon after that, Gajeel had motioned for Freed to follow him. Freed had done so without complaint - Gajeel couldn't prove it, but liked to think it was because the asshole was too embarrassed after his loss - and allowed himself to be led down the stream, towards the lake.

"You've got wings right, when you use yer magic?" Gajeel asked. "So yer probably gonna use 'em to get over every little thing, right?"

"Like you do with your little cat friend, I expect," Freed commented, and Gajeel stiffened slightly. Freed noticed and smirked a little. "My apologies, I interrupted you. Please, go on."

"Don't need yer permission," Gajeel grunted, more to himself than to the man standing before him. "But if yer using yer wings as much as I think you are, you ain't ready to deal with terrain that ain't easy to walk through. So, if this week's about improving then this is gonna help you get over that flaw. We run from here towards the lake, taking us through forested ground which ain't even and ain't safe, and then we swim from one side of the lake to the other."

"So it's a race then?" Freed asked, annoyingly not intimidated by the proposition.

"If you want," Gajeel shrugged. "But I ain't got a prize or anythin'. Definitely not one for participation, like yer probably used to."

Freed rolled his eyes at that, but didn't ride to the bait. Instead, he said, "Perhaps when I win, you'll cook for once."

"You ain't gonna win," Gajeel claimed.

"We'll see," Freed hummed a little, far too smug for his own good.

"Stretch up," Gajeel muttered, even though he wanted to push the man further, maybe even see if he could add an actual forfeit for losing, something to really make the fucker squirm. But, well, Gajeel didn't know for sure he would win, so couldn't risk things just in case.

Just as Gajeel went to start stretching his calves, he heard the sound of ruffling fabric and frowned. He ignored it for a moment as he felt the gentle burn of his muscles working, but caught sight of Freed's white - now dirt stained and crumpled - shirt now hanging over the branch of a nearby tree. With slightly furrowed brows, he turned towards Freed to demand an explanation, only to see him kicking off his pants and placing them right next to his shirt, leaving him only in his boxer-briefs. His tight and eye-catching boxer-briefs.

Before the thoughts could even form about how Freed was wearing his underwear to perfection, Gajeel forced his memory back to the night before. About how he'd acted and how he had tried to make Gajeel feel like crap just to feed his own ego.

Freed had lost a wrestling match, and had thrown a fit about it. Gajeel couldn't respect a man like that, and he couldn't find a guy hot if he didn't respect him.

"The hell are you doing?" Gajeel demanded.

"If we're going to swim, then I'd rather not get my only set of clothes wet when it could be avoided," Freed explained, and Gajeel was momentarily thankful that he didn't look ready to remove his boxers. He couldn't think like that, so spoke again.

"Cause you can't stand a bit of discomfort, right?" Gajeel grumbled.

"No, I just don't see the point of making things worse for myself to prove a point," Freed looked pointedly towards Gajeel when he said that. "The water is clearly going to be cold and the weather doesn't look like it'll improve, meaning it'll be a struggle to dry ourselves already. The fire can only do so much, and we'll either have to lounge around in wet clothes out of stubbornness, or remove them and wait for them to dry while we ourselves get dry. That extends the time we'll be cold, making us both uncomfortable and wasting time before whatever inane task you've got next. That, coupled with the fact that this is flu season, seems like good enough justification for avoiding a stupid problem."

Gajeel could hardly argue the point, so instead he mumbled, "We ain't gonna be lounging around."

"What an astute and well thought out argument," Freed deadpanned, and Gajeel wanted to punch him again. He didn't, instead averting his eyes as Freed started to stretch his arms. "Nobody is forcing you to do the same if you're shy, Mister Redbox. To me it just feels like the reasonable course of actions."

Rather than speaking, Gajeel turned his back. He also removed his shirt and boots; but he wasn't getting half naked like the pervert next to him.

Calling him a pervert was maybe a stretch.

He pushed back that thought, as well as the thoughts of how damn good Freed's ass looked in those boxers - Gajeel was only a man, and he couldn't deny what he saw - and instead got himself into line with Freed. The race is what he should have been focusing on, not the fact that Freed didn't look half bad when he was taken away from his pampered and luxurious sheen. Tangled hair and the odd spec of dirt really did wonders for the pretty-boy.

The race. Focus on the race. And the fact the guy couldn't deal with a loss.

"Ready?" Gajeel asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Go."

He lurched forward before he could think, sprinting through the undergrowth of the the forest as he ran towards the lake. Years of guild work in places like this had allowed for the perfection of running through the forest; you kept alternating your gaze between the ground and on the trees.

Usually he would have turned his skin to iron so he wouldn't have to focus on the branches in his way, but he was trying to prove a point. He winced a little as a sharp end to a twig scraped against his cheek, far too close to his eye, but didn't let it stop his pace. He could hear Freed's breathing very close behind him, so evidently Freed knew how to run through a forest as well as Gajeel did, so he couldn't let up for a moment.

When they were out of the forest, there was a short run towards the lake with more space than there had been in the forest. Gajeel forced himself to run as fast as he could, not wanting to let Freed overtake him now he had the width to do so. And not having a view of the man's body might-

The race. The way he'd acted the night before. Focus dammit!

If telling himself wasn't enough to cut off his libido, the face first plunge into freezing, dirty water certainly did. He let out a shuddering gasp when his head broke the surface, but couldn't allow the ice-cold water to stop him. He quickly started to swim, smirking a little when he realised he still had the lead.

The smirk died when Freed overtook him pretty damn quickly.

Gajeel saw nothing but ripples of water ahead of him, and gritted his teeth as he tried to speed up. He was a man built to brute force his way through a problem, while Freed was apparently more agile. He should have expected that, but he had wanted to leave Freed in the dust during the run so it wouldn't be an issue.

All he could do now was swim to the other shore of the lake, pissed off.

When he reached the end of the lake, he saw Freed resting on one of the large boulders that made up the shoreline. He was panting, soaking wet and still wearing those fuckimg boxers. When he saw Gajeel haul himself up from the water, he looked towards him and smirked.

"That didn't end up how you wanted, did it?"

"Shut up," Gajeel snarled. "Get yer clothes, we've got a busy day."

When Freed laughed, Gajeel nearly pushed him into the lake again.

——

"So, you think ya can beat that?"

Gajeel had more than got his confidence back now, and he was smirking at Freed with his arms flexed intentionally.

Both he and Freed were stood at the bottom of a steep hill, where the dead tree-truck sat. Gajeel had explained this challenge; they would both have to push the tree-truck up the hill as far as they could. The justification for this exercise was that Freed might one day find himself in a situation where he was trapped without his magic and needed to force his way out with his strength alone, and the exercise was meant to simulate that. Freed clearly saw that Gajeel just wanted to push his limits, but he didn't say anything.

This was the last task of the day. They'd already attempted the tree climbing that Gajeel had planned, and Freed had been obnoxiously good at it. Gajeel had been faster, but they both knew that he had a natural advantage because he'd had practice. Gajeel could hardly boast about being slightly better then Freed at something he had done many times and Freed was new to.

Gajeel had just finished his attempt at pushing the trunk, and was fucking delighted when he saw he'd beaten his own personal record. This was how he would regain his control over things.

Freed didn't stand a chance.

"I'm sure I'll be a worthy contender," Freed stated, walking towards the tree-trunk. "Which is a feat, I expect, given that you've clearly been setting me up for failure from the beginning."

"Maybe if you weren't so predictable then I wouldn't have been able to plan things out so well," Gajeel grunted.

"So you predicted that, in everything other than tasks that relied solely on physical strength, I have exceeded your expectations and beaten you in completion, I suppose?" Freed taunted quietly as he positioned himself against the tree-trunk. "I expect you did all of this simply to prove your inferiority."

"Inferiority?" Gajeel scoffed. "You ain't done anything but bitch about this because it's not going yer way."

"Not going my way?" Freed laughed, turning from the log and looking at Gajeel again. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"All you've done is make yer little comments about how you don't think it's fair," Gajeel challenged, taking a step forward and glaring the other man down. "And when ya lose, you throw a tantrum."

"I throw tantrums," Freed demanded, sounding equal parts exasperated and annoyed. "As opposed to you, who has been acting perfectly rational throughout this? It hasn't escaped my attention that you clearly see Makarov's initiative as some sort of personal affront to you, and you have apparently seen it fair to force all of these grievances onto me. So for you, a man who has been as close to stomping his feet and wailing as his pride allows, to complain about me throwing a tantrum is practically laughable."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Gajeel took another step forward. "I'm doing this because yer clearly a spoiled little city-boy and I ain't associating myself with something who can't-"

"Can't what?" Freed snapped. "Can't make a shelter? Can't start a fire? Can't swim across a lake faster than you? Because I've done all of this despite your clear hopes otherwise. Or would you rather judge my worth as a mage by seeing me push a dead tree up a hillside, or to wrestle you without the weapon I use nor the magic I wield? Because, Mr Redfox, if you need to force such strict parameters to best me and you consistently lose, then perhaps your plan isn't a good one."

Fuck, he wanted to punch the guy. Fully encase his fists in iron and beat the shit out of the guy. It would be damn satisfying to see the guy knocked out, while the smugness straight out of him.

"Nothing to say?" Freed continued, a patronising look on his face.

"Fuck off," Gajeel growler, turning around and going to walk away. Before he could take a step, a wall of glowing runes shot up in front of him, blocking his exit. He turned to Freed with an expression of fury. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You," Freed snapped, and magic seemed to emanate from him.

He looked feral in that moment, with all the shields of fancy clothes and smart ass words replaced by anger and magic. His shirt was billowing in the magic induced winds, and the glare on his face was accentuated by the purple swirling in his eye. Fuck, he looked like a man on the edge and it shot straight to Gajeel's dick. Freed was a gentleman gone wild, and if that wasn't one of Gajeel's most well-buried fantasies then he didn't know what was.

The expression was gone as quickly as it came, and the magic swarming Freed's eye fell away. For a moment, Freed looked worried, but he was talking again before Gajeel could understand why he looked like that.

"Neither of us are happy about this, but at the end of the week we have to fight side by side, and the biggest issue we have right now is that we can't stand one another," Freed seemed more calm now, as if the bubble of anger had burst. What the hell had caused that? "So, either you plan something that might make us work together, or at least respect one another, or we both stop trying and say to hell with the consequences."

Gajeel didn't say anything. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him.

Suddenly, a wave of shitty realisation hit him. Freed had a point when he said he was taking his anger out on him, when he really just didn't want to do the damn training thing at all. He wasn't being fair.

"I think that's enough," Freed sighed. "I'll gather my things and go home. You needn't contact me again."

Freed was walking away before Gajeel could react, and the walls of runes fell around them both. A horrid feeling of regret filled Gajeel, and he quickly jogged to catch up with Freed, who was clearly ignoring him. He kinda deserved it.

"Shit, Freed, wait," He placed a hand on the man's chest, and Freed glared at him. "Yer right, I ain't been fair," It wasn't a fun thing to admit. "I had some ideas about who you were, and didn't wanna let ya prove me wrong, even when you were kicking my ass," He sighed. "And yer right about me wanting to fuck you over, that's why I did this shit, and it wasn't right. That was shitty of me."

"Well, I can hardly blame you for judging me. We were both guilty of that," Freed admitted. "And thank you for admitting that. But I don't see how we could suddenly become a cohesive, effective team, we're hardly compatible."

Gajeel sighed, Freed had a point.

But if a Fairy Tail mage was good at anything, they were good at being stubborn.

"What if we have a fight?" Gajeel proposed, and Freed frowned at him. "Talking like this ain't gonna get rid of the attitude we have for each other, right? You're still pissed at me, and you said some things that made me wanna sock a punch in yer jaw. Maybe having the chance to beat the shit outta each other might break through the attitude problems we have."

"That's not too bad an idea," Freed admitted, glancing at the evening sky for a moment. "It would be cathartic to make you scream."

"Buy me dinner first, city-boy," Gajeel teased before he could think. Freed all but gaped at him, and Gajeel was speaking to fill the silence before he could stop himself. "Y'know, I ain't ever seen you fight before. Don't know how you work."

"Then I have the advantage," Freed grinned slightly. "And you're voluntarily giving it to me. Perhaps you really are repentant."

"Nah, just wanna kick yer ass without you having an excuse."

"We'll see," Freed smirked, and Gajeel found himself grinning back.

[altumvidetur]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs (BokuAka)

Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’ve decided to split it in a series of posts, starting with my OTPs. This time it’s BokuAka’s turn!

cookies and cream, by norio

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

dozens of red roses, by norio

“And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.

“Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.”

The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight, by carafin

In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

-

Next to him, Komi is chewing his cupcake dutifully, albeit with obvious effort. Washio has assumed a completely neutral expression on his face, although Akaashi thinks that his eyes might be watering. Sarukui, having seemingly demolished the entire thing out of sheer willpower alone, looks like he deeply regrets every single choice that has led to this precise moment in his life.

‘It isn’t too bad, huh?’ Bokuto says, grinning. ‘I made them in our school colours, so they’re like, marbled black and white chocolate swirls! Do you guys want more?’

Sarukui looks like he might pass out at the thought alone. Komi pauses mid-chew to shake his head weakly.

‘I’ll have more,’ Akaashi says, to the general astonishment of everyone.

better than spy films, by dalyeau

Akaashi knocks Bokuto out and Bokuto falls in love. Kuroo laughs about it.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby, by fathomfive

Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. But getting his feelings across might be Bokuto's biggest endeavor yet, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.

But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and Bokuto wants it more than he's ever wanted anything. He's an expert at seizing his perfect moment, at bringing victory home against the odds. So he's got this, right? It's gonna go great, right? Right?

(After all, it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters.)

heavy heart, a love apart, by drifloon

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

Character Development, by silvercistern

"That’s some kinda gratitude. What happened to my painfully polite little brother? I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here!"

"I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

Keiji needs a date. Bokuto needs dating lessons. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

prepare for rain, by norio

“First you must make a delicious bowl of tea; lay the charcoal so the water boils; arrange the flowers as they are in the field; in the summer suggest coolness, in the winter, warmth; do everything ahead of time; prepare for rain; and give those with whom you find yourself every consideration.”

- Sen no Rikyu

cracks in the pavement will lead you home, by deusreks

Bokuto often thinks about Akaashi, especially when he’s running. It’s like his legs know where they’re supposed to take him. He grows into a habit of running a lot, just to keep that feeling going. Cracks and holes in the pavement aren’t fun to jump over if the final reward isn’t seeing Akaashi’s face.

An alternate universe with a little bit of magic and a lot of growing up.

il mio ragazzo falso, by Karasuno Volleygays

With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety.

At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15.

And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain?

#someonepleasesaveakaashi

right in the head, by Mysecretfanmoments

That was the other thing: when Keiji had said he wanted to make his way home, Bokuto had agreed—as if it didn’t matter where they went. He hadn’t said "we should look for a community" or "there’s probably nothing there anymore".

He’d just asked which way.

((the bokuaka zombie au literally no one asked for))

how to become a birder, by norio

“Since I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto said, giving an unnecessarily meaningful look, “You know what I want, right? It’ll be easy! You take pictures of me, I turn them in, my professor says I’m the smartest genius, I graduate, I go play pro, I win the Olympics.”

The World’s Best Kept Secret, by kythen

The struggles of keeping a relationship a secret (when it really isn't a secret at all).

third wheel, by arsenicjay

"So you and Bokuto, huh?"

Akaashi's attention snaps back to Kuroo and he gives the other boy a blank stare. "What about us?"

Or, Kuroo figures out that Bokuto is interested in Akaashi long before Bokuto does himself and being the kind friend that he is, tries to help them along.

cherished, by gabstar

Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone.

((In which Bokuto's love sick, Akaashi's sick-sick, and together they feel a little better))

Kissing Ace, by Karasuno Volleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way. But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

legs killed the owl, by dalyeau

He's not smiling anymore an hour later, after he's fucked up four perfect spikes that Akaashi tossed carefully for him because he's too distracted by the lean, elegant line of Akaashi's legs, kneepads dark against the white of Fukurodani's gym.

tea-stained polaroids, by dalyeau

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head. 

owls, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key.

How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know.

all lost souls, by norio

Not again, Akaashi thought. But he had never seen this sight before.

run rabbit run, by norio

Rule #1: Don't hurt Akaashi. Rule #2: Don't taint Akaashi. Rule #3: Don't involve Akaashi. Rule #4: Don't damage Akaashi. Rule #5 (optional): Try not to destroy yourself.

gwah, bam and swoosh, by dalyeau

When Bokuto meets Kageyama the first thing he thinks is, No five year old should be able to scowl like that.

Or be that tall.

Then, Shit, his dad is really hot.

Spoiled, by gabstar

Akaashi desperately needs a new mattress and he drags his loyal, loving, and very loud boyfriend with him.

omam verse, by shionsheart

Though some may believe they're monsters, those closest to them know they're just men learning how to love in this world of magic, demons, and faeries.

i’ll return home one day, by awkwardedgeworth

"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"

"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"

"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."

Or, wherein Akaashi is a world famous violinist, Kuroo introduces him to future Olympian-to-be Bokuto Koutarou. And Bokuto pines. A lot.

morning owls, by norio

Most of the time, if Bokuto woke up first, he would shake Akaashi awake. Sometimes he would bake sloppy pancakes for breakfast in bed, and sometimes he would sit on Akaashi's waist.

And sometimes he did not.

Insomniac Olympics, by Aetherdrive

Akaashi never thought he could inspire anyone, let alone an artist -- and then he met Bokuto.

counterclockwise, by miiniwa

How they had gone from point a to point b in such a short amount of time, he doesn't know. But as he dwells on it, he realizes that he doesn't exactly mind.

if kisses were fishes, then i’d be an ocean, by norio

Akaashi needs a fake date partner, so he grabs the first person he sees.

the way you look at me, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions.

He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 7- Obedience

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 3732

Warnings: Implied violence, of course, from Ivar.

AN: I’m only realizing now that this would be considered a slow burn. Sorry 😅

6- Trapped

...

"I didn't think Ivar was serious when he said you'd be in here."

Artemis cracks her eyes open at the offending light. Above her stood Hvitserk, a concerned look in his eye. She shifts under his gaze, feeling the discomfort in her aching bones.

"Good morning." He then chirps in greeting, holding his hands out as an invitation. Artemis hesitates for a moment before grasping them, immediately noticing the roughness of his hands as he hauls her up in one swift motion.

Hvitserk managed to lift her out like a small child, setting her down on her unstable feet. He looked at her tired eyes with a sad smile, and that alone was off putting.

"I like you, Artemis," He begins, "I can't deny there's something about you," He pauses. He runs a hand down the smooth expanse of his honey hair, set in a neat singular braid. He leans against the crate, giving her a pointed look, "But it doesn't mean you can be disobedient, nor neglect your duties." He sounded so much like Helga, reprimanding, yet somehow not so angry. At least, not yet.

There was something he was keeping quiet about. Something was brewing and it set a fear in her heart. In her nervousness Artemis attempts to smooth down her overused dress, the hem already developing fraying seams. With a sigh, Hvitserk moves closer to her, supplying a rough rope from his belt and tying her wrists together, just as he had the first time they met. She couldn't even process his actions properly, and before she knew it, her hands were bounded.

"I hate to do this," Hvisterk offers her the same sorrowful smile as before, "But Ivar believes an example needs to be made of you." She remains quiet, looking at her bounded wrists with dejected eyes.

"I will be beaten." She comes to a realization, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The faster it begins, the faster it will end," Hvisterk replies, taking the long end of the rope to pull her along with him. Her still aching limbs struggled to keep up with Hvitserk's pace, and she could feel the bile rise, burning it's way up enough to make her eyes water and the panic resurface.

Hvitserk sighs again, gently turning her around to rip open the laces holding her dress together before pushing her out the cabin door. It was a sunny day, one that hadn't been seen in so long. She would have laughed bitterly if she weren't afraid.

All the other slaves under the Ragnarson's household waited out front, some of them appearing disinterested. Edda stood there with arms crossed over her round belly, annoyed that her time was being wasted on a spectacle when she had more important matters to attend to.

Sigurd and Ubbe, and stood leaning off the side of the cabin, their faces lacking any real emotion. Sigurd takes a quick glance at her before looking away, and Ubbe's piercing eyes said it all. I told you so.

Hvitserk pulls her toward the nearest tree, tying the rope as tightly as he could around the trunk. He motions for her to face the trunk and lower herself to her knees. She ignores the uncomfortable feel of her knees sinking into the dirt, focusing her watery eyes on the jagged shapes of the tree bark.

"I'm sorry, little fighter." And with that, Hvitserk leaves to join the others.

It was eerily quiet after that. The birds were singing their morning songs in the trees, and the cold wind danced through the leaves, gently falling over her.

Artemis let's out a shuddering breath as soon as she hears his body dragging over the dying grass, and her own body immediately tensed, the exposed skin of her back forming goose flesh.

Ivar drags himself to sit beside her, grunting when his back hits the trunk of the tree. He stares at her for a few moments, but she never turns her face to stare back at his. She bites her tongue as she gets the sudden urge to spit in his face.

He leans his head back, playing with something in his hands that she was sure was the object of punishment.

"You look scared," He comments lowly, the smallest hint of amusement in his voice. Still, Artemis remained silent.

"Look." He tells her gently, tapping a finger to her knee to grab her attention. When she turns, she sees him holding up a wooden stick with a slight curve in her line of vision. A switch.

"Mother would use this on my brothers whenever they misbehaved," Ivar smiles, recounting the countless memories of them being rambunctious boys, "I remember a time when Hvitserk went into mother's paint pot of khol. He used it all to rub it over our faces, even the thralls." He let's out a chuckle at the memory, a twinge of sadness from recalling images of his mother.

He sighs, poking her cheek with the stick, smiling when she flinches.

"Can you imagine Hvitserk being hit by our beautiful mother with this? She should have used a hammer." He continues his mindless chatter.

"And what about you?" Artemis croaks, her throat feeling dryer than the deserts of the east.

"What about me?"

"Were you ever hit with it when you misbehaved?" The question causes a bitter chuckle to erupt from him.

"Mother didn't want to hit a cripple," He shrugs, sweeping his eyes over her, "Not even when I killed a boy," To this, Artemis jerks away as if he'd burned her somehow, and he only laughs at her reaction.

"What? It was an accident." He says before dragging himself behind her shivering form, his bound legs touching the side of her thigh.

"It would be like being a child again," He says in a condescending tone, moving the tip of the switch in little sweeps over her shoulders and down her back. She wished he'd just do it already.

He leans in closer to whisper.

"Pray to the gods that today you will learn your real lesson."

...

It could have been worse, she tells herself.

It could have been his dagger, or a horse whip, carving or ripping at her tender flesh.

But it certainly did hurt.

Artemis takes in shaky breaths, her heart still pumping with the after effects of the adrenaline. Her back was marred with crisscross markings extending down to her lower back. She felt her bones would have shattered from the weight of the impact.

Ivar had said nothing by the end of it, tossing the switch aside and crawling away from the scene as if he were the one struck by it.

Artemis was left on her cot in an isolated area housed by the animals to deal with the consequences. There was a lingering stench of the goats and sheep, and she brings her sleeve up to shield her nose from the offending smells.

She sat with her knees cradled to her chest, her back making it impossible to lay down and rest properly. After a while her tears finally subsided, drying in thin streaks down her cheeks. She recites a simple prayer before fluttering her eyes closed once the drowsiness crept up. Her concentration was broken once she hears the familiar plucking of the lute. Squinting her eyes in the dimness of the candlelight, she barely makes out Sigurd's form, playing his lute gently.

Stunned, Artemis watches him appraoch her slowly until he sat directly in front of her, continuing to play the soft melody. She looked away from him quickly with a frown, overwhelmingly embarrassed.

"Artemis," She looks up reluctantly. His yellow hair was paler under the glow of the candles, and his eyes glitter like little blue jewels.

"Prince Sigurd."

"I...I have no words of comfort to give you. Just a song to lighten your spirits," He started to play again, experienced fingers plucking each string precisely. He hummed along with the melody, his eyes closed in concentration. The tune was nothing she's heard before, but it was beautiful. She let's the music soothe her, and she finally reveals the smallest hint of a smile, though it never reaches her eyes. Sigurd smiles back, feeling he had conquered the greatest achievement.

"Why do you show me kindness?" She questions him, hugging her knees tighter as if to hide. Although she appreciated Sigurd's attempt at calming her, she didn't know whether to trust his seemingly kind heart or if he were trying to misguide her.

"Everyone deserves kindness, even a slave," He replies, the smile never falling from his lips as his fingers continue playing.

"Even Ivar?" She asks, her eyes finally willing to bore into his. Sigurd abruptly stopped his plucking, setting the lute aside with a sigh.

"Ivar is crazy, but he is my brother. Although we do not see eye to eye, he is still my blood. I just wish he would realize that too," Sigurd spoke the last part softly with a another sigh. "I'm sorry I could not help you, but it was out of my control," Artemis shakes her head, not interested in such things. If God couldn't help her, than who could?

"I suppose a slave doesn't deserve to be saved." She rests her head on her knees, her hair spilling over like a dark waterfall. She was tired and didn't wish to take part in idle talk. Sigurd frowned, standing now with lute in hand. He takes a quick glance at her back, eyes lingering over the red swells that decorated her skin.

"Ivar has requested you be taken to the healer in the morning. It's the most kindness he will show you. Have a goodnight, Artemis," He left swiftly, finally leaving Artemis to the peace she had wanted. She muttered another silent prayer, making the sign of the cross before turning to her side and closing her eyes.

...

Sigurd had been correct, much to her relief.

She had been fetched to see the healer, upon Ivar's request, so that she may be tended to. The healer wasn't to concerned, simply applying a soothing salve that acted as a numbing agent. In time, the welts would disappear. Artemis should have been happy about it, but it didn't change the fact that the wounds were inflicted on her in the first place.

She was given a new dress as well, another request of Ivar's. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but the fabric was of much finer quality than the last, of a warmer, softer wool. She didn't know why he even bothered to see that she was provided with what would be considered luxuries to some. His tendencies were confusing, and Artemis was beginning to grow weary of his judgements.

In the end, Ivar recieved exactly what he wanted: obedience.

Artemis no longer spoke out, and only spoke when being spoken to. She didn't look into anyone's eyes for much longer then a second. She remained quiet and passive, going about her duties that have doubled since the incident. She served the morning and evening meals to the Princes when asked to, helped Edda in the kitchen, and saw to every annoying need Ivar had.

His brothers took notice, watching her silently become just like every other thrall. Though Hvitserk still teased her at times, Ubbe was still kind, and Sigurd became more sympathetic towards her.

There was nothing in Kattegat that brought her simple pleasures. Every day became the same routine, with endless tasks and long nights to think of her home. She thought of her father, about the family business and who would inherit it. She missed the hot nights under the dark sky, the ancient ruins in her village, and she even missed the butcher boy who'd constantly seek her out.

The monks were dying one by one as the days passed, saddening her greatly. She stopped visiting Helga, as she was embarrassed of what the woman would say, but she couldn't go even if she wanted to. Facing Helga was one matter, but to face Floki was to seek further humiliation. Helga did warn her, as most did, but Artemis was stubborn and prideful, but like everything else, in time, she learned.

Snow began to cover every inch of Kattegat, and it was whiter than anything she'd ever seen before. It intrigued her, the way it fell silently in its path, only to land in her hand, melting away. It would be a harsh winter she'd hear the people say, with vegetation dying and rivers freezing over, and although she resented the cold nights, she had a new appreciation for the snow and its careful beauty.

Once the winter passes, the heathen army would make it's way across the seas to seek destruction. Artemis often found herself listening in to their plans, and watching as the brothers fought for control. Ivar was often angry, but that was to no surprise. He constantly argued with Bjorn, who would bark back his authority in return.

From her understanding, Ivar thought himself to be the leader, the one their father chose to lead their growing army. Ubbe, Hvistserk, and Sigurd never argued, but agreed that Bjorn should lead. Ivar was far too fickle, and his ever changing mood would cause more damage to themselves than to their enemies.

The bickering of siblings was nothing new to Artemis. She too had a brother, Apollo, who would often tease her relentlessly, but it was in brotherly affection, which is what the Ragnarsson lacked most of the time. It was as if it were disease tainting their veins, and the arguments between Ivar and Sigurd was nothing she had witness before. It was such hatred that passed through their eyes, clouding their vision of what was right and wrong.

Anyone could see the obvious distaste they had towards each other, and it was only recently in which Ivar would enter his chambers at night after another meeting, going on and on about how Sigurd infuriated him. Every night Artemis would listen while she readied his chambers for the night as he insulted his brother, repeatedly stabbing his desk with his favorite knife mercilessly in a way to calm his nerves.

In any other situation, Artemis wouldn't hesitate telling Ivar how stupid she thought he was, and how quickly his anger got the better of him. Ivar was young, and still had the mind of a child when it came to dealing with his anger. But she didn't care enough to even look in his direction most times. She grew a dislike for him, and his stupid legs.

...

Queen Lagertha organized a feast in honor of all the visiting nobles and warriors that came in the name of her ex-husband. She sat proudly on her throne, her red gown pooling around her feet like a river of blood. She was a sight to behold, with flaxen locks and attractive eyes that twinkled with many untold secrets.

Artemis watched her with doe eyes, admiring the Queen who emanated such strength and courage. The owl perched at her side and the warrior women beside her only helped her regal image. The girl was dazed, looking upon her as if she were a Greek goddess.

"Why do you look so impressed? She killed my mother." Ivar snorted beside her, sitting comfortably on a chair draped in comfortable furs. He sniffs at the ale given to him by one of Lagertha's thralls, before deciding it was safe to drink. He gulps it down in one go, tossing the cup behind him with little care. She grumbles to herself, bending to pick it up as he continued.

"She doesn't deserve the throne."

She turns to him with apathetic eyes. She had no interest in the Queen killing his mother. Perhaps she had good reason for doing so, but it didnt really matter to her.

"She is beautiful." Artemis remarks casually, watching Ivar's face twist in disgust, and it was almost enough to make her smile.

"She is a witch." He spat before shooing her away to speak with more honorable people worthy of his presence.

She looks around the hall, trying to find her way to the sidelines with the other slaves. The people here were massive, both the men and women, towering over her like great mountains. It was nothing she was not use to at this point, seeing pale skin covered with markings depicting their myths and culture.

Searching the crowd, she secretly hopes to find Helga, but she finds Aria instead, a slave taken from a kingdom called Ireland. She was a pretty girl with hair like fire and skin so pale, that she rivaled the white snow. She had a dust of freckles upon her face, and Artemis always found herself admiring her beauty.

"He's looking at you, you know," Aria snickered in her broken Norse, "He's been watching you all night. If he is not glaring at the Queen, then he is looking at you." Artemis snorted. She knew who she meant but she didn't want to acknowledge it. Ivar's eyes were always piercing, and so she dared not to look his way.

"Does he wish to take you?" Artemis turned her head quickly at the question, she almost feared her neck would snap from the force.

"What?"

The red head laughed, "He is doing more than merely looking at you, Artemis. He is eating you with his eyes"

"Don't be a fool, the prince hates me," Artemis snaps, grabbing a pitcher of ale from a passing thralls hands. She needed to keep herself occupied.

"You're much too modest. You're pretty, and there's nothing wrong with pleasing your master. That is how I stay in the Jarls good graces." Aria smirked, and behind that smirk lay many lustful secrets.

"You mean to be like Margrethe?" Both women glanced at the former slave, hanging off Ubbe's arm but batting her lashes at Hvitserk. Aria shrugged, glancing at her master who beckoned her over with a seductive smile.

"Perhaps." She says, bouncing away in a swirl of her skirts. Artemis huffed, rejecting the idea.

"Harald, look, the Mediterranean girl," She hadn't seen him in a while, but she remembered him well, the man with the ink on his face and the yellow hair over his eye. She knew his name to be Halfdan, protector of the stolen goods on Bjorn's last raid. The man named Harald tilts his head as he observes her. He then proceedes to chuckle, causing Artemis to frown.

"Quite the pretty little thing, brother," He turns to Halfdan smiling before bending down to be at eye level with her.

"And what is your name, hmm?" Artemis gulped, his face mere inches away from her own. His eyes held many stories of battle, and his skin riddled with scars was a testament to that. His hair was long and braided, falling over his shoulder as he bent. The ink on his skin only made him appear fiercer and he clearly was a man one should not anger.

"Artemis," She replies quietly, gripping the pitcher tight to her chest.

"He is a king. King Harald. You should address him as such," Halfdan says, quickly glancing at the pretty noble women that passed him.

"My apologies, King Harald, I was not aware," Artemis kept her eyes downcast, not wanting to meet either of their gazes. She wouldn't lie, she was quite intimidated, and having these men stand over her made her feel smaller than she already was.

"Worry not," Harald straightened up with a smile, "Your accent is odd. Where in the Mediterranean?"

"Crete."

Harald turns to look back at his brother for further information, but

Halfdan only shrugs, holding out his cup for Artemis to pour him ale. She complied immediately without hesitation.

"An island they say is part of the Byzantine Empire. We didn't stay long." Harald held his own cup out, and she poured him more ale obediently. The brothers clinked their cups together, yelling skol, before gulping the ale in one go. That seemed to be very common here.

"Well, little Artemis, we hope to see you again." She blinked after them, watching their fur covered backs disappear into the crowd of more furs and wool. What an odd pair they were

Before she could think of anything more, she was pinched roughly on the ankle, her yelp drowned out by the loud music and chatter. Turning round, she meets Ivar's angry eyes below her. He motions for her to lower herself.

"What did they want?" He hisses in her ear. What was she to say to that? She didn't even know what they had wanted. It was an odd introduction to an odd pair of brothers.

"They wanted more ale, Prince Ivar," He rolls his eyes, another action he seemed to do often.

"It's not your job to serve anyone tonight. You're no one else's thrall." Her brows knit in confusion. What was he going on about?

"Rememeber what I have told you. You serve no one but me," Ivar suddenly looked fatigued, his arms trembling slightly with the constant pressure of holding himself up. Not that Artemis cared, really. He could collapse in front of her and she wouldn't bat an eye. He suddenly snatched the pitcher from her, flagging down another thrall and thrusting it into their hands before sending them off.

"This feast bores me. Go on and ready my chambers, I wish to retire for the night," He shoos her off before going back to his brothers. He turns back to look at her disappear out of the hall, before going back to sit down beside Ubbe, who gave him a knowing smile.

"How fairs the slave?"

Lagertha suddenly cuts into his vision, a smirk gracing her pink lips as she bends to whisper in his ear. Ivar sneered, moving away from her, causing his other brothers to turn and look.

"She is a terrible slave, and quite umbecoming," He says harshly, his blue eyes icy. It took everything in him to not kill her where she stood. The Queen laughs, tossing her blonde hair behind her shoulder and sipping delicately from her golden cup.

"Your eyes say otherwise." Lagertha looked at him one last time with a knowing gaze, leaving him dumbfounded in the middle of the crowded hall.

...

@heavenly1927

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: The Twelve Transformations of Bilbo Baggins

Summary:  Magical Mishap AU. Bilbo finds a box in the troll cave that he wished he had never opened. But no, Took curiosity got the better of him, and now his body will be going through eleven different transformations that he can’t stop, can’t control, and can’t be cured. What use was their wizard again? He can only hope that maybe, just maybe, Thorin might find him just a little more useful this way.

POV: Bilbo

Covered in mucus as he was, Bilbo was not likely to forget his experience with trolls for as long as he lived. Even now, standing in the sunlight several hours after the whole ordeal, he would release little shivers of disgust. This was the closest he’s come to death in his entire fifty years of existence, and they weren’t even close to the mountain yet. More and more, he was beginning to regret running out his hole.

Once the full story came to light on just how he came to be in the possession of three trolls intent on cooking him, Fili and Kili were sent off to catch the ponies with more punishment to come. Bilbo stood before Thorin awaiting to hear his verdict as well. Their esteemed leader barely spared him a glance of disdain before marching away. He knew he should feel relieved that he wasn’t held accountable for the night, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his father teaching him about gardening. 

Flowers that had potential to survive were pruned and maintained. Lost causes were left behind as mulch for the stronger buds. 

Bilbo felt as close to mulch as a lone hobbit in a company of dwarves could be, he supposed. Not really having much of a purpose, he followed Gandalf and the others to the edge of the troll cave. He got maybe ten steps in before he was gagging and resisting the urge to retch right there at the entrance. He didn’t know how he could have endured as much in the disgusting habits of trolls and still not smelled the worst they had to offer. Perhaps, he wouldn’t follow them in. Not that anyone really noticed.

He turned to make a quick exit when his eyes stopped on a small brass box pressed into earth by what he would assume was a giant troll foot. If he hadn’t already been bent double, he doubted he would have seen it. It was probably nothing special, but the little carvings on it reminded him of his mother’s old puzzle box. His insatiable Tookish curiosity grabbed hold of him, and before he realized it he was digging the small prize out.

His fingers glided over the odd ruins and sliding squares. He used the only corner of his coat not ruined to wiped the dirt away to allow sliding pieces more room. There appeared to be twelve positions on the box and only eleven squares to move them in. Each square was marked, but he wasn’t sure as to the sequence in which they needed to be in order to open. His fingers swiped them up, over, down, over, over, up, fascinated by the odd toy.

“What have you got there, Mister Baggins?” Balin looked up from his discussion with Oin and Bombur about supplies.

Bilbo jerked before giving a shrug and slipping the little box in his pocket.

“Just a puzzle. Nothing important.”

Balin nodded indulgently looking ready to ask him something when Gandalf appeared thrusting a sword into his chest. Not that he had any idea as to how to use it other than point it at his enemies and hope they run themselves upon it. The old wizard wasn’t a whole lot of help with that either, other than to advise him to use it more like a deterient. Well, he could only hope anyone he faced was just the least bit afraid of a hobbit with an overgrown knife, although from the few smirks he received as he struggled to strap it onto his waist he wasn’t willing to bet on it.

He had been a little afraid he was going to have to prove just how inadequate he was when something burst through the brush only for it to be another strange wizard. As Gandalf discussed...whatever he discusses with other wizards, Bilbo was left to himself. So he sat down and began to fiddle with the puzzle box again. Over, over, up, over, down. It was forming some sort of pattern, and he was so excited to find out what lay inside, he didn’t even notice one of the dwarves sneaking up on him.

“What’s that?” Bofur asked peeking over his shoulder.

The hobbit jumped nearly dropping the thing before clutching it close to his heart.

“You startled me!” He accused.

“I didn’t mean nothing by it.” Bofur laughed with his hands held in front of him.

“Yes, well…” Bilbo grumbled as he brought the puzzle box back out.

“You’re one for games I see.” Bofur teased over his shoulder as he watched Bilbo work.

Bilbo hummed in response, not too bothered by the dwarf’s presence until he started trying to assist.

“Will you just let me do it?” He demanded.

Bofur laughed loudly, turning a few heads in their direction. Bilbo rolled his eyes going back to his game when the piece he slid down made an audible click. The hobbit gasped in surprise and elation as he found a small knob sticking out from where the missing piece would go. Wondering just what was inside the little puzzle box, Bilbo pressed down on the knob, and the box swung open. 

Bilbo was taken in a coughing fit as a cloud of golden dust rushed out to meet him. He dropped the box on the ground as he frantically worked to expel the stuff from his lungs.

“Are you alright, lad?” Oin pressed as Bilbo’s condition pulled tears from his eyes.

Bilbo tried to wave him away, but the older dwarf went ahead and pushed a waterskin into his hand. Bilbo nodded his head in thanks, taking a swallow that helped ease his discomfort. Well, that’s what he got for playing with something he got out of a troll hoard. Lesson learned.

“Uh...Bilbo?” Bofur called his attention.

“What, Bofur?” Bilbo choked out.

When Bofur turned back to him, his face was chalk white. Bilbo cocked his head to the side wondering what had the dwarf so distressed. Bilbo was only fairly certain he wasn’t dying.

“Your name is on this box.” He murmured holding the puzzle box out to him.

“WHAT?” Bilbo exclaimed, taking it back while fighting off another cough.

Bofur handed the box back to him, and there it was. In the final square where there hadn’t been a piece, a new one appeared with the name Bilbo Baggins written in his elegant script. Bilbo felt numb staring down at his name and internally cursing his inability to leave things alone.

“What’s going on over here?” Thorin demanded, having decided to make his way towards the gathering crowd around the hobbit.

Bilbo ignored him as he screamed out for the one person who could fix this.

“Gandalf!”

The wizard was either so deep in his conversation that he didn’t hear him, or he decided Bilbo’s problems couldn’t possibly compare to theirs.

“GANDALF!” Bilbo shouted again as he pushed through the dwarves to get to him.

“What, Mister Baggins, could be the problem that you feel the need to interrupt…?”

The grey wizard trailed off as Bilbo thrust the puzzle box at him. Gandalf stared at it gingerly with Radagast peeking over his shoulder until he noticed Bilbo’s name now etched onto the surface.

“Did you open it?” He glared down at Bilbo sharply.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Fool of a Took!” Gandalf cursed, cutting off Bilbo’s explanation.

The hobbit shrunk away from the wizard feeling properly chastised for the first time since he was a young faunt. 

“What’s wrong, Gandalf?” Thorin demanded.

“Your burglar decided to open the lost Box of Transformations.” Gandalf grumbled.

Bilbo could feel the weight of fifteen pairs of eyes and was quite content counting his toes than looking up to meet any of them.

“What does that mean?” Thorin growled out, clearly regretting having ever taken the hobbit out of the Shire.

“It means,” Gandalf sighed. “I was not wrong to say Bilbo’s involvement would be most amusing.”

Bilbo turned up to glare at Gandalf who was watching him with a contemplative expression. 

“It’s not funny, Gandalf.” Bilbo remarked.

The small smirk fell from Gandalf’s face, his eyes remaining solemn.

“No, it’s not.”

Honestly, that didn’t make Bilbo feel better.

“So what’s going to happen to him?” Bofur worried, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Mister Baggins will be going through a series of twelve magical transformations. The last of which...well, hopefully we won’t get to that point.”

The look Gandalf shared with Radagast was far from comforting.

“Gandalf…” Bilbo whined.

“Like what?” Kili pressed in interest. “Will he turn purple?”

“Will he grow tusks?” Fili added.

“Will he turn invisible?”

“Will he go bald?”

Bilbo could only stare at Gandalf with increasing horror every time the two came up with a different suggestion of what could happen to him.

“Each transformation will be quite random in appearance, duration, and abilities. Even we could not predict what form he will take.” Gandalf answered.

“Can’t you fix it?!” Bilbo cried out aghast.

“Not on my own, no.” Gandalf grumbled. “But luckily, I know someone familiar with this particular magic. The first thing we need to do is…”

Gandalf never got to finish as a howl broke through the clearing before a warg charged straight at them. Thorin and Dwalin dispatched the first one, and Kili killed the second with his arrows. They were being urged into action when Bilbo felt an uncomfortable swoop in his belly, and his skin began to glow golden.

“Um, Gandalf!” Bilbo called out.

The old wizard turned in his direction looking vaguely worried when the world around Bilbo suddenly began to grow a lot taller. No one noticed as they watched Bilbo with varying degrees of awe and horror that the first piece on the box disappeared.

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 6

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age whohas a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

There is smut in this part !

Part 6 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 //

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

“ I’m sorry “ (Y/N)’s voice is timid, as if so much depends on those words. 

“ About what ? “ Billy asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes as they drive back towards her apartment. 

“ About making you sit through that group session. I didn’t — I wasn’t aware it would affect you like this. “ 

“ You don’t have to say sorry for that. You didn’t do anything “.

“ But I did, “ she persists “ I put you in a position that made you feel uncomfortable. I hurt you and that was never my intention. I would never purposely do that “ .

Billy doesn’t reply at first, too unfamiliar with the feelings cursing through him. It’s strange, to have someone care so deeply about him. To have someone who worries about his well being, about hurting him and putting him in situation he feels uncomfortable. That is so foreign it’s hard to fully grasp it all.

His own mother left him in a situation she knew full well wasn’t safe. She knew there was pain and hurt and sadness and anger. She left anyway.

And dad ? Dad is the one creating that situation, actively putting him in danger, purposely hurting him, deliberately creating a surrounding of discomfort and pain.

The two people who are supposed to love him the most, to care about him the most, don’t give a shit. And this girl ? This random girl he met just a while ago, cares so deeply, so unconditionally. She cares not only about his physical but also his emotional well being and she asks for nothing in return.

It’s a strange feeling. Though a good strange. A very good strange.

There are no words to really express what he wants to say. Words can not properly get across just how he’s feeling right now. 

So he doesn’t say anything, just takes one hand off the steering wheel to reach out and grab one of hers. Her hands feel so small and warm in his. 

Hand Holding, cuddling, affection of any kind that isn’t sexual has been absent in Billy’s life for so long. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been held by someone. Not for any sexual reason but just for the sake of showing affection and being close. 

(Y/N) held him close earlier and she has no problem sharing her affections with him, no reservations in him holding her hands or them cuddling. Billy only now realises just how much he’s been craving physical contact like this. Soft and gentle. 

He wants to let himself soak it up and wallow in it for as long as humanly possible. It’s just so hard to let yourself enjoy a good thing when life does nothing but prove to you that good things don’t last. 

“ Do you wanna stay over again tonight ? “ 

She wants to have him around. He’s not a side note in her life. Not a burden. Not a weight on her shoulders. He’s a conscious choice, a deliberate decision. 

Billy thinks that might be the first time in his life that anyone specifically choses him. To spend time with and to care for and to — 

The first time anyone wants to keep him around, asking for nothing in return, expecting nothing from him. 

“ If you’ll have me. “ 

“ Always “.

There’s a skip in (Y/N)’s step as her and Billy get out of the car and walk towards her apartment building. It’s like she’s constantly walking on clouds. A perpetual dance. 

She’s so light, so airy, so unbothered. Even though everything that has happened to her should’ve made her hard and bitter. It hasn’t. 

Maybe that’s what’s drawing Billy to her so badly. The way she should be so much like him and how despite it all, she isn’t. 

Maybe if she gets to come out of all the suffering and the heartache as this person full of light and sunshine and love. Maybe there’s a chance for Billy to turn out alright as well. To become someone even remotely similar. 

The air around them has a certain sting to it, there’s autumn winds coming in slowly but surely. Though Billy doesn’t feel the cold nipping at his skin. All he feels is the warmth seeping into his heart and the smile tugging at the corner of his lips just from looking at this girl dancing across the parking lot.

“ Hey Billy you fancy a pizza for di— “ (Y/N) stops her sentence as she turns to face him. Her eyes firmly focusing on something behind him. The smile that’s been there just a moment ago has vanished and there’s something in her gaze that Billy can’t really figure out. She looks — scared almost.

Billy turns around and catches sight of a run down red truck parked beneath a street light. There’s a man leaning against the car. He has a thick bushy beard and shaggy hair. The white dress shirt he’s wearing is buttoned up the wrong way and has more stains that unstained fabric. He’s a very scruffy looking dude.

“ What are you doing here ? “ Billy hears (Y/N) say as she passes him and walks towards the man.

“ Honey ! “ the man approaches her, taking a last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and holding out his arms as if expecting (Y/N) to fall right into them.

She doesn’t. Instead she stops a few steps before him, crossing her arms and creating an invisible barrier between herself and the man.

“ Nu-uh. Don’t do that. Don’t come here and pretend like we’re okay. We’re not. You’re not even supposed to be here — “ 

“ Darling — “ 

“ Shut up, dad ! “ she yells and suddenly it clicks in Billy’s head.

He immediately feels the anger rise up in him. His hands get clammy and his jaw tightens as the wrath curses through him. This man has put (Y/N) through so much. So much pain and suffering and sadness. 

Billy wishes he could just walk up and punch him. Just beat the shit out of him for all this man did. Though he knows this isn’t his fight to fight and even if it was, punching him would do nothing. The emotional scars are there already and they won’t go away anytime soon. 

But what he can do, is stand by her side and let (Y/N) know that he has her back. That she doesn’t have to go through the pain alone, not anymore. 

As Billy steps up beside (Y/N), her dad’s eyes snap up towards him.

“ And you are ? “ 

Though Billy does not have the time to answer.

“ That is none of your business. You have to leave, now. “ 

“ (Y/N), honey. Come on. I just — I’m doing better and I wanted to see you. You’re my little girl. I missed you. Did you not miss me ? “ 

She’s biting her lip, then taking a deep breath. Billy can just about make out the tears clouding her eyes. God, he just wants to wrap her in his arms and shelter her from all the bad stuff.

“ You’re doing better, yeah ? You stink, dad. I can smell the alcohol all the way here. I don’t want to see you or hear from you or have anything to do with you. I told you this before and I’ll tell you again, there’s no room in my life for you. I have a good life. I like school, I have a nice job and — “ she sighs and glances at Billy “ people who care about me. I don’t need you and I don’t want you. Leave ! ” 

As the man takes a step towards (Y/N), Billy realises this is his moment to intervene. There’s a line you don’t cross and this dude is about to cross it.

Billy steps in front of (Y/N), taking a defiant stance. He’s never really had anyone or anything he felt like protecting. Protecting Max is a necessity, something that comes with the burdens and responsibilities of being an older brother even if it isn’t a blood relation. Protecting (Y/N) is a whole different story. Something he’s doing for the first time in his life.

He’s putting himself on the line for her, willingly. Not because someone expects this from him and not because he feels obligated to. He does it because it feels right. Because sheltering her from harm is more important than saving his own ass. 

Those thoughts are scary. They’re terrifying even.

But if those thoughts and feelings are indicating a change in him, a chance towards becoming a better person. A person his mom would be proud of. A person that’s worth (Y/N)’s time, then maybe he can deal with scary and terrifying. 

“ She told you to leave. “ 

His voice is deep and threatening. He knows he can be quite intimidating if he wants to be, had years of practice while letting out his frustration on kids weaker than him. And though he’s insanely ashamed of the person he used to be, it’s moments like these where Billy is glad for the lessons he’s learned in life. Like how to look and sound intimidating.

“ (Y/N) I — “ the man keps addressing her, though Billy notices his eyes ever so often flicking up towards Billy’s. 

“ Just leave, man. I’m not gonna fucking repeat myself. “ 

The man regards Billy with an unreadable expression for a moment, almost as if he’s considering whether or not it makes sense to fight back. Eventually he raises his arms in defeat and lets out a huff of annoyance. Jesus, (Y/N) was right, he does reek of booze. 

“ Alright, alright. I want no trouble. I just wanted to see my kid. I’ll go. “ 

As if this dude hasn’t caused enough trouble for (Y/N) already. Billy watches as the man gets in his truck, then watches the car drive away until it is but a dot and turns the corner into the next street. 

It’s only when he feels a soft touch on his arm that he averts his gaze and focuses back on (Y/N). She looks so small, so scared. 

This strong, brave, wonderful woman that seems to be walking on air and dancing on clouds every moment of her life is gone and replaced by a timid little girl. Billy hates that this man still holds so much power over her. That despite getting away from him, (Y/N) will never be fully free from the pulls he has on her life. That just a few words can shake her up so badly that it turns her into a completely different person. 

Billy wants to help, so badly. To take this weight off of her and bring back the perpetual lightness she seems to carry around wherever she goes. 

The thing is, Billy has no idea what to do to make it better. He’s never had to be the one to cheer someone else up. Never has been anyone’s person to depend on, to hold onto when things get rough. He doesn’t know how to be someone’s rock. Someone’s person.

“ Pretty girl, tell me what to do to make it better. “ he says as he wraps his arm around her and wipes a few tears off her face with his thumb.

“ Just hold me “ 

And so he does. He pulls her as close as he can and holds onto her as if she’d fall apart otherwise. Maybe things can eventually turn out good for the both of them if they just hold on tightly. To each other and to what they have right now. A feeling of belonging of mutual understanding of — love ?

He holds her close all the way up to her apartment and then lets her cuddle into his side as they sit on her couch. Luke comes crawling onto her lap and with one hand brushing through his fur and the other holding tightly onto Billy’s, (Y/N) seems to let a tiny bit of that weight fall off her shoulders again.

“ You wanna know what’s the worst part ? “ (Y/N) speaks up after a moment, looking up at Billy with her big beautiful eyes, still so full of sadness it sends a metaphorical dagger straight to Billy’s heart.

“ What’s that ? “ 

“ When he asked if I miss him? I couldn’t even say no. Because I do. I miss my dad when he was still my dad. When he had his good days he was so wonderful. Like a completely different person. I miss that man so so much. Isn’t that just so ridiculous of me ? “ 

It’s not. Not at all. If anyone knows what that feels like it’s definitely Billy. Billy who gets nothing but mean words and black eyes from his dad but still so desperately wants Neil to be proud of him.

“ It’s not. “ he reassures (Y/N) and places a kiss on her head “ my dad beat the shit out of my mom and he constantly slaps me around but I still want him to be proud of me. If anyone’s ridiculous it’s me. I hate myself for it but he’s my dad and I just want him to be proud of me for once. Just once. You miss a dad that loved you, a good dad. That’s understandable. Fuck, I miss a good dad and I never had one to begin with. “ 

“ I think he should be “ 

“ Huh ? “ 

“ I think your dad should be proud of you “.

Billy tries to swallow the knot that seems to be forming in his throat “ for what ? I haven’t done shit to be proud of “.

“ You have a job you’re good at. “ 

“ I’m a fucking lifeguard at the local pool, that’s hardly a career to be proud of “.

“ You teach kids how to swim. I think that’s adorable and important. I serve people while wearing roller skates. “ 

“ That’s adorable too “ 

She smiles at those words and Billy thinks that maybe cheering her up and being the person she can depend on to hold onto isn’t all that hard. Maybe it’s something that comes naturally. Because she’s his person too.

“ You helped Alex when no one else would, a complete stranger. You are so kind, Billy. I wish everyone got to see it. I know the — circumstances have made you bitter and angry and I know that it’s hard to let go of that. But those times when you let me see what’s behind all that anger and sadness ? There’s so much kindness there and I think you should be so proud of keeping that part of you alive. Even if it’s very well hidden, it’s still there and that’s what matters. “ 

It’s then that Billy notices just how close they really are. How her breath falls onto his skin and how the tip of her nose brushes his. It’s like that time in the music room only there’s no kids barging in anytime soon. 

This is it, he thinks. The moment he’s been waiting for and yet the moment he never expected to actually experience. 

Billy Hargrove has had many kisses before. Hot, needy kisses and soft gentle kisses. Short kisses and long kisses, with lots of tongue or no tongue. 

Billy Hargrove has never kissed a person he cared for so deeply though. He always thought that songs and movies got it all wrong. That kissing wasn’t as fundamentally important and magical as they make it out to be. 

There’s a tingling in his stomach, rushing through his system all the way to his fingertips. It’s strange as if someone has poured a package of Pop Rocks into his bloodstream. His whole body is on high alert waiting for the inevitable moment when he her lips meet his and he gets to see, for the first time, what a kiss can be.

(Y/N) closes the gap between them and it’s everything the movies said it would be and yet it’s nothing like fiction portrays it. There’s no fireworks or butterflies and the earth doesn’t shift. Nothing is fundamentally changed and yet everything is different.

Because for a boy who never knew love, a kiss from a girl who’s got so much love to give, changes everything. It’s more than a kiss. It’s a silent understanding. A conscious choice. 

It’s a “you’re good enough”.

It’s a “you’re more than okay”.

It’s a “welcome home “.

(Y/N) tastes like cherry coke and warmth. Her lips are so soft. God they are so soft. Billy wants to stay in this moment forever. Just feel wanted. Wanted and safe and warm and —

“ Pretty boy, you are so wonderful, please never let me go “.

There’s no hint of uncertainty in her voice as she pulls away and says those words. Her eyes hold no more tears instead they’re full of questions neither of them are ready to ask or answer. 

“ I won't. I won't”. 

Billy Hargrove never breaks a promise. Ever.

“ I won’t, I promise. “ 

He pulls her closer and connects their lips again because when kissing was great before, this is a whole different level of bliss. One that he isn’t gonna deny himself.

Billy thinks he’s shown a great deal of self restraint ever since he’s met (Y/N). She’s a gorgeous girl and if this was any other person, any other situation he would’ve tried getting into her pants from day one.

It’s her though and it’s different and he’s tried so hard to not think of her that way in order to not ruin their friendship. Though when he wakes up the next morning and sees her standing by the kitchen counter making pancakes, something stirs inside him.

There’s a deep longing for her and though there’s no denying it’s sexual. It’s fueled by a lust so much deeper than any physical attraction.

She’s not wearing anything revealing, in fact her pajamas make her look quite dorky. But Billy thinks the way she’s humming along to the radio while mixing what he assumes is pancake batter, is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“ Oh good m— “ Billy pulls her into a kiss before she gets the chance to finish her sentence. She tastes of sugar, entirely too much sugar, and yet he never wants to stop kissing her, ever.

“ — morning “.

“ Why do you taste so sweet ? “ 

“ Ah I’m just sweet like that “ she laughs and places another peck on Billy’s lips “ it’s the pancake batter. I wanted to make us breakfast but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard on the sugar. “

“ You think ? “ Billy chuckles, raising his eyebrow in question.

“ Here try it “ she says, drags her finger along the side of the bowl then holds it out to him. God, does she know what she’s doing to him ? 

He licks the batter from her finger and god, there’s way too much sugar. Billy has to come to the conclusion that (Y/N) is a horrible cook. He really doesn’t give a shit though.

There’s a sizzling in the air, a palpable electricity as their eyes lock. It was never like this for Billy, slow and full of tension. Usually it’s fast and rushed and he can’t wait to get off. 

He’s enjoying this though. It’s a new kind of thrill. One that’s fueled by genuine feelings. 

(Y/N)’s hands wander into his hair, brushing through his curls and slightly pulling at them. She’s focusing solely on him, as if nothing else matters in the world. As if nothing else exists except them two and this little bubble they’re caught in right now.

The kiss that follows is different from the ones they’ve shared before, it’s faster, needier, filled with a longing for more. He needs to feel her closer. So much closer.

Her hands are wandering up and down his arms, his neck, his chest, until the grab onto his shirt and pull it over his head. As Billy stands before her, shirtless with messy hair and breathing deeply, she chuckles then bites her lip. This girl is gonna be the death of him.

“ Fuck, pretty boy. This is what the ladies at the pool get to see during your shift ? You could’ve told me, I would’ve come for a visit. “ 

Billy laughs at that. Genuinely laughs. Because just being with her, silly comments and all, makes him happy. It makes him want to laugh and it doesn’t matter that they’re about to have sex and she’s prolonging the foreplay with her stupid jokes, because just being with her is enough. She’s enough to make him want to laugh.

“ I think “ he says and pecks her lips “ you’re severely overdressed. “ 

Slowly she raises her arms and lets him pull her shirt off. Seeing her naked before him, knowing she trust him to be this intimate with him, to let him touch her, feel her, love her. It’s empowering. It’s wonderful.

And fuck, this girl is a masterpiece.

Billy wants to worship every inch of her skin, mark her in kisses and let her feel just how gorgeous she is, inside and out. To take away all the pain the past has put on her and replace it with unwavering adoration.

So he starts doing just that. His lips move down her jaw, leaving wet hot kisses. He descends down her chest, to the valley of her breasts. (Y/N)’s head is thrown back, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, eyes closed in pure and utter bliss. If this is the reaction he gets from her just by leaving kisses, he can’t wait for what’s yet to come.

He moves down her body little by little, paying special attention to her tits. They’re fucking glorious.

As he kneels before her and reaches the edge of her pajama pants he stops for a moment and looks up at her, waiting for (Y/N) to meet his gaze. He needs to know that she wants this just as much as he does.

When he does look down at him, eyes clouded over with lust, and nods her head at the silent question he’s sending her way, that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Almost agonizingly slowly he pulls down her pants and underwear and lets them pool on the floor for her to kick them to the side. Billy takes a moment to just look at her in all her naked glory. She’s an angel if he’s ever seen one. 

“ Why are you looking at me like that ? “ she asks, almost self consciously.

“ You’re just really gorgeous and I can’t wait to make you feel really good, baby. “ 

Billy has always enjoyed sex but until now it was a selfish act. One he took part in to satisfy himself and chase his own pleasure. He never truly worried about the girls. If he’s being completely honest, he only cared about making them cum to stroke his own ego.

It’s different now. He wants to make her cum. Wants to make her feel as good as she makes him feel by just being there. By letting him be a part of her life no matter how insignificant that part might be.

“ Ya know, that’s a pretty hot sight. You on your knees. Pretty boy “ she says with a smirk as Billy lifts her leg and starts kissing the inside of her thigh.

“ Yeah ? “ 

“ Mmmh “ 

“ Guess that’s what you do to me. You’re just so — “ Billy murmurs against her skin, moving up her leg and towards where she really wants to feel him.

“ — irresistible. “ he accompanies his words with a kiss against her clit. Then one more and one more and before she knows it he’s switching between fast kitten licks at soft sucking. 

Billy doesn’t usually go down on girls. It brings him no immediate pleasure so he doesn’t usually bother. Oh how wrong he was. Feeling her fingers desperately tug on his hair, hearing her moans of pleasure, tasting her, it all turns him on so much. It does bring him pleasure. So much of it. 

When his fingers join in, that’s when she completely comes undone, grabbing onto his head with both hands and slightly leaning forward, pressing his head closer to her heat in the process.

“ Fuck, Billy. You’re doing so good “.

He loves this. Hearing that he’s doing well. That he’s making her feel this bliss. He wants to hear her say it again. Praise him again.

“ Say it again “ he mumbles against her skin.

“ Baby, you’re making me feel so — uh fuck — so good. “ 

He can feel her tighten around his finger, can feel her grab onto his head harder than before. She lets out a moan that gives him goosebumps. 

Billy wipes his chin clean with the back of his hand and gets up, placing a long wet smooch on her lips. 

“ No one’s ever done that before “ she confesses in murmured words against his lips.

“ No ? “ 

“ No. Just you, baby. Just you. “ 

His ego grows and grows and there’s a stupid sense of pride filling him at the knowledge that he gets to be a part of one of her firsts.

(Y/N)’s hands fumble with his belt, then push down his jeans. As her eyes travel down his body, she can’t suppress a giggle. 

“ What? Why are you laughing ?” 

“ You’re going commando ? Why am I not surprised “ 

And when she laughs, he can’t help but laugh along. Because that’s just how contagious her laugh is. It’s warm and radiant and he never wants to forget what it sounds like. What it feels like.

Sex was never goofy before. Billy was never goofy before. He never got to be. Not even when he was a kid. Everything was always serious. He never got to be childish or silly. Never. 

It feels good to laugh. To be goofy and silly and ridiculous. Especially in such an intimate situation. The weight that’s constantly resting on his shoulders is lifted off of him. Even if it’s just for a moment it feels liberating. It feels so so good.

Maybe this is what has been missing all along. Someone to laugh with. 

Billy grabs her thighs and lifts her up so she can sit on the counter. It’s not the most comfortable position but they’re both too riled up, too needy to move this to the couch or the bed.

“ Do you want this ? “ he asks, lips moving against hers.

“ More than anything “.

There’s so much kissing that Billy soon forgets where his lips end and her’s begin. They’re one now and it feels like that’s how it was always supposed to be.

Leaving her for just a moment, Billy picks up his jeans and pulls out his wallet, frantically searching for a condom, his heart doing a little leap when he finally finds one.

“Hurry up, pretty boy. God, you are so handsome !”

He knows he’s good looking but it hits an entirely new spot coming from her. It means more. It means everything. Because he knows that it’s not all that matters to her. That (Y/N) has seen behind his looks, has seen the cracks and the scars and the ugly side of it all. And she still wants him.

They lock eyes as Billy pushes inside of her. He’s going slow, agonizingly slow. Cherishes every moment, every touch, every motion.

It takes but a blink of a second until they’re moving completely in sync, with each other, with the world, with everything. Billy feels weightless when he’s with her. Like a little of that lightness she carries around rubs of onto him.

His fingers grab tightly onto her waist as his hips move rhythmically against hers, like waves against the shore. The enchanting taste of her lips clouding his senses with sweet ecstasy.

Billy’s movements grow less controlled with each thrust. It’s getting significantly harder to keep his euphoria at bay and not let go off all these tingles that seem to be doing somersaults in the lower regions of his body.

(Y/N) is helplessly wringing and gasping, like with one last hit she would drown in joy and never recover ever again. And they are both more than okay with it.

” I love this baby ….. but I won’t be able to hold much longer “ Billy moanes into (Y/N)’s ear, his hot breath fanning against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

They move together, faster; harder; more desperate. Desperate to get closer to one another, desperate to make the other feel just as good as one self, desperate to show just how much this means. So much more than sex.

And they succeed. They succeed in every little point. Every moan is a call of victory, every twitch and moving muscle, a dance of joy.

Love creeps up on them and swallows them whole.

As the tidal wave of pleasure crashes upon them, they cling to each other desperately, filling the room with moans and grunts of utter euphoria. Billy’s never been so satisfied.

Riding out his high, Billy leans his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder, placing soft sloppy kisses against her neck.

For a few minutes they just stay there, holding each other and soaking in the ultimate postcoital bliss.

“ Billy “ she softly whispers and motions for him to lift his head off of her shoulder. (Y/N) softly combs the hair away from his face “ how did you like the pancake batter ? Too much sugar ? “ 

He doesn’t answer, just erupts into another fit of laughter. It feels so good. So freeing. Billy never wants this moment to end. Never wants to let go of the laugher. Of the happiness. Of the girl.

The taxidermy raccoon looks like a little burglar, Billy thinks. With his little burglar mask and his beady eyes and his tiny paws. Billy grins at that thought.

“ You look happy “ 

“ Huh ? “ 

Dr. K pushes the too-big glasses up his nose and folds his hands, resting them on his desk.

“ I said you look happy. Happier than last time. “ 

He is. It’s not because of the sex, not only because of it. It’s entirely because of (Y/N) though, there’s no doubt in Billy’s mind. He’s not gonna spill any of that to the shrink though. Nah, no way.

“ So ? “ 

“ Billy, I wish you would cooperate just a little bit. I know this is a change for you and I know that it’s hard to open up to a stranger but I think it could really benefit you “.

Billy takes a breath, his eyes falling onto the raccoon again.

“ Doc ? “ 

“ Yes ? “ 

“ What’s with the critter up there ? “ 

Dr. K chuckles and takes the glasses off, twirling them around in his hand “ That’s Georgie. He’s uh — he belonged to my mother-in-law. It’s what she left me in her will after she passed away. Why she had it, no idea. She wasn’t my biggest fan so I wonder why she gave anything to me in the first place. “ 

“ Maybe it’s her subtle way of wishing you get rabies “.

“ You know, it would not surprise me, really. “ 

Billy doesn’t want to be here and he especially doesn’t want to talk about his feeling but even so, he has to admit that Dr. K is an okay guy. 

“ Your wife okay with that ? Her mother not liking you ? “ 

“ Nicole is — “ Dr. K starts then looks wistfully around the room. There’s a tiny smile on his face. Billy wonders if he looks this dorky when he thinks about (Y/N). “ ��� she’s the love of my life. She has been since we were in High School. She’s gotten used to her mother’s dislike for me. She chose to be with me anyway. Now we’ve been married for over 20 years and counting “.

“ And you’re still happy ? “ 

“ I get happier and happier every time I look at her “. 

Billy looks up at the raccoon again, letting Dr. K’s words curse through his mind. Maybe relationships aren’t all doomed to crash and burn. Maybe there are exceptions. Maybe he could be one.

“ He’s still fucking creepy, not gonna lie. Giving me the heeby jeebies “.

“ Oh no doubt, he’s unsettling. But I kinda like him“. Dr. K replies.

Billy kinda likes the raccoon too.

Neil isn’t home, that’s the first thing Billy notices when he walks through the front door. He’s more than glad about it. Not only does he not have to explain where he’s been the last 2 days, he also doesn’t have to sit through a uncomfortable family dinner.

He’s got other plans. Important plans. 

Plans that demand of him to swallow his pride and ask for help. From one specific person.

As he approaches the door of the room next to his, he can hear music coming from the other side. It sounds like Madonna. It’s probably Madonna, Max is obsessed with her.

He knocks on her door, mentally preparing himself for what is to come.

“ Go away, mom. I’m busy “ 

“ It’s me, shitbird. Open the door “.

The music cuts off and he can hear her huffing loudly before the door swings open and a visibly annoyed Max greats him with a scowl and an eyebrow raised in question.

“ What do you want ? “ 

Billy doesn’t answer right away, instead he pushes past her into her room. Max mumbles a sarcastic “oh yeah make yourself a home” before closing the door and sitting down on her bed.

“ Billy what is going on ? “ 

Talking to her like this, asking for help and being vulnerable, that’s something that still takes a lot of effort. Billy doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a proper conversation with Max that didn’t involve either of them yelling at the other. 

“ I need your help “ 

It’s scary saying those words but Billy thinks that (Y/N) might just be worth it.

“ I — You — What ? “ an utterly confused looking Max questions. 

“ Listen, if you make a big deal out of it ...“ 

“ I won’t, calm down. What do you need my help with ? “ 

“ You’re a girl “ 

“ Good observation, Sherlock “ 

“ Max, I swear to god — “ 

“ Sorry. Sorry, continue “.

“ You’re a girl. You know what girls like and I uh — I want to take a girl out “ 

“ You’ve been on a shit ton of dates before, what do you need my help for ? You take girls out every other day. “ 

Billy looks up from where his eyes had been focused on the floor, hoping that Max can see just how much this means to him.

“ It’s different. It’s different with her. She’s more than just — “ he trails off.

“ I’m 14. You can say sex. “ 

He doesn’t want to though. She’s still his little sister and that is the last topic he wants to discuss with her. 

“ Yeah but I won’t. All you gotta know is that she’s special and I want to take her somewhere special but I never did anything like that before, for anyone. So I need your help. “ 

“ Billy, I really don’t know if — “ 

“ Max, “ Billy says, eyes locking with her’s. He can see her take in his face, the wound on his lip, the bruise around his eye, the cheek still slightly swollen. “ You owe me “.

Max sighs then nods. “ Alright, alright. Sure. I’ll help you if this means so much to you”.

It does. Billy doesn’t think she can imagine just how much.

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[red-and-blue-sewer-circus-arc]

Pennywise: Survival pt.3

Warnings: Suspension, marionette string shibari, punishment sex, rough oral, double penetration, double creampie

The realization of what you had just done knocked all of the anger out of your body and replaced it with cold fear. Before Pennywise could sit up, you scrambled to your feet and took off at full speed. You had yet to successfully escape Pennywise, but damned if you weren’t going to try.

The exit tunnel was on the opposite side of the giant pile, but you hoped to make up some ground by cutting through the stage box. You jumped up the few steps, burst through the door, and were just about to leap off the stage when a thick, sticky rope caught your forearm. It yanked you back to center stage while it continued to snake down your arm and wrapped around your chest. Three more ropes twisted around your remaining limbs and lifted you off the floor like a reluctant marionette. You struggled, but the strings only bound you tighter and pinned your arms behind your back. Your left leg was bent up behind you with your foot pointed towards your head while your right leg was left hanging straight down. Somewhere along the way you had lost a shoe and if you stretched, you coud just touch the floor with the tip of your big toe.

A dark chuckle came from behind you, and the strings slowly spun you around to face Pennywise. He stood in the doorway of the stage box, the red lighting made his eyes shine even brighter.

“Well, what’s this? A little puppet?”

He cackled as he stalked across the stage and drug his claws along the wall, gouging the ancient wood.

“That was a naughty thing you did honey. Naughty and unfair. A cheap shot.”

His eyes burned into yours. A thin trail of blood dribbled from his crumpled nose and floated, straight up towards the ceiling.

“You.. You ATE me!”

You screamed at him as some of your anger returned. How dare he play the victim!

The smirk dropped from his face. Pennywise crossed the stage in three long strides and grabbed the two strings that bound your arms. When he lifted you to eye level, the strings cut into your breasts and tightened around your swollen arms. He squeezed your jaw in his gloved hand. Sharp claws scraped your wet cheeks.

“This body belongs to me! To do with as I please! Was that not our deal honey? Yet you remain unharmed, while I… I…”

Pennywise huffed and shook his head. Drool flew from his lips, but that strange, strange blood continued to slowly drift up. The bells on his costume jingled, adding their sound to the snap and crack of his nose shifting back into place. He crinkled his newly straightened feature and growled in your face before he dropped you. The sudden, full weight of your body pulled the strings taunt and made them dig deep into your skin causing you to whimper. Already your arms and legs were numb, swollen, bloodless. The strings had rubbed your skin raw. All around, it was very uncomfortable.

Pennywise watched the discomfort spread across your face and smiled as his fingers dipped into your cleavage. He grabbed your bra through the tattered remains of your sweater and pulled until the material tore open and your tits swung free. The marionette strings around your chest moved, squeezing even tighter around your bare skin. Without losing eye contact, Pennywise reached down and pinched your breast. Hard. The restricted blood flow had caused them to swell and turn an angry shade of red and as you also found out, it made them even more sensitive to pain. When he pulled your nipple, you couldn’t help but cry out in pain. You struggled, and tried to pull away from him, but only managed to make yourself swing. Pennywise grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head back while he continued to tease your nipples. He leaned down and breathed in your scent. Despite your situation, there was something about the position you were in, the way he stared at you while you hung helpless in the air. It was all so… erotic. You knew it and now, so did he.

“I can smeeellll what you want, what you need. How could you think of leaving poor Pennywise when only I can give you the depravity your body craves?“

His voice rose in pitch until it was almost a whine while the corners of his mouth twisted in an imitation of hurt. One quick twitch, and his frown lifted in a grin that made your blood run cold despite the heat between your legs. Pennywise brought his finger up and poked the tip of your nose.

"You are going to learn your lesson, oh YES you are!”

He grabbed your head with both hands and swung your body forward, gringing your face in the crotch of his clown costume until you couldn’t breathe. His claws pricked your scalp as he held you against the silky material and just when you were beginning to suffocate, he pushed you back for air.

The wrinkles in his suit tore apart before melting away. Several somethings pushed against his crotch from inside his body and a vertical line split his smooth mound open. You caught a flash of white buried in his red slit right before his cock slid free with a wet shlick. It was long, solid white, and had thick ridges running along the underside of the shaft. You had just enough time to think it looked almost human, when he pulled you forward and pressed the rounded tip against your lips. Fluids that were unique to Pennywise smeared around your mouth and helped him slide between your lips. Instead of struggling against him, you relaxed your jaw and curled your tongue up against the ridges. He seemed to like that.

An inhuman moan reverberated from deep inside Pennywise’s chest while you worked him with your tongue. His grip on your hair tightened and he swung you back and forth, pushing his cock deeper down your throat while he kept his hips perfectly still. You tried to suck him, but his pace was too rough. Instead, you had to settle on letting your jaw go slack and breathing when you could. He used your mouth for only a few moments before he pulled out and wrapped his fingers around his saliva coated cock. He smiled even wider as he lifted it up and a second, slimmer cock slid out below the first. That one was red, smooth and ended in a small, pointed tip.

Pennywise yanked you back to his crotch and slid his second cock down your throat. He gave you the same rough treatment and when he finally pulled away, you could feel how swollen and bruised your lips were. Drool hung from your abused mouth and you panted for air as the strings spun you around until Pennywise stood beside your spread legs. He leaned over, and grabbed your shoulders before he raked his claws down the length of your body. Not deep enough to cut this time, only deep enough to scratch. He palmed the crotch of your panties and dug the heel of his hand into your clit.

"Ohhhhooo what’s this honey? We’ve only just begun to play and you’re already burning up? Better cool you off!”

You knew what was coming but still, you flinched when he tore out the crotch of one of your last remaining pair of panties. The tug against your body pulled on the strings and you screamed from pain. Your limbs were far past tingling now.

“I knew it! I knew it!”

He spread you open with his fingers and mocked you for your arousal in a sing song tone. Filthy. Dirty. Needy…. true.

Pennywise grabbed the strings that were wrapped around your hips and pulled you back on his ribbed cock, filling you in one stroke. The ridges rubbed against your g-spot and his smooth, second cock slid against you clit. The sensation took your breath away.

The stage box was where Pennywise had first explored your body. He had taken his time, learned all of your secrets. Now it hardly took any effort at all for him to make you cum. Your pussy clenched around him and he growled as he began to swing you back and forth, his strokes fast and deep. With every thrust the burn of the ropes, the feel of his ribbed dick and the smooth appendage rubbing your clit built and built until it was too much to take.

“Pennywise!”

You moaned, and bounced your ass against him to take him deeper until finally, euphoria crashed and you screamed as you came. Pennywise’s movements were erratic, even without him moving his hips, and you knew he was close. You couldn’t see him, but you heard the noises he made, felt the jerk of his body and the splash of his drool on your ass. Without warning, he stopped.

“Pennywise?”

You tried to turn your head to look at him, but you couldn’t find any leverage. He was at the wrong angle. Strong fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass as he spread your cheeks open. More drool dripped from his mouth to your ass and you twitched from the unexpected, cold feeling while his thumb prodded your hole.

“Fill you up. Teach you a lesson.”

Pennywise pulled out of you and the strings flipped you over onto your back. New parts of you lost circulation as blood flowed back into others and your whole body turned to pins and needles. Both of your legs were drawn up behind you at an odd angle, bent and spread, while your feet rested against your ass. Your poor breasts had finally found some relief, but now, all of your weight was balanced over your arms and legs. Looking up, you got your first glimpse of the ceiling in the stage box and held back a rush of panic. All above you, criss crossed over each other, marionette strings hung like a giant…. web.

Pennywise didn’t waste any more time taunting you before he lined up with both of your holes and began pulling you back on his cocks. The slime coating his tips eased the stretch as he held you still, impaled on his body. The sensation of his ribbed cock in your overly sensitive cunt mixed with the feel of the red one exploring your ass and your mouth drop open. You gasped, and looked up at him while he started to swing you again. He matched your momentum with thrusts of his own. Faster and faster, he quickened the pace until he was pounding into you with unnatural speed. Your breasts bounced painfully while you screamed, and moaned, and writhed. Pennywise rolled his eyes back in his head and his mouth hung loose. Razor sharp teeth protruded from his gums while deep inside his body an inhuman growl started to build.

“P… Pen!”

Your body shook as he pushed you, higher and higher and when your second orgasm hit, you came undone. Your back arched against your bonds while your scream bounced off the walls of the cistern. Pennywise thrust a few more times before you felt his cocks throb and pulse inside you. His growl climbed to a roar as his body jerked once, twice, then froze as his cum filled your body. The final twitches of your orgasm squeezed him, milked him for every drop. Still, he didn’t move.

You were at your limit and you needed to get down. Your body was sore, numb and hung limp from exhaustion. It took all the effort you had left to lift your head to look at him.

“Pen.”

Your lips were too dry. Your voice was almost gone.

“Pennywise.”

The strings snapped and you dropped to the stage. You landed hard on your arms and legs, but you were too numb to feel it. A soft groan left your throat as you tried to roll over and your bloodless limbs flopped to the side, completely useless. Pennywise sucked in a breath and stumbled. He held out his hand to catch his balance and you watched as his cocks pulled back into his body. The front of his costume mended together seamlessly while his eyes rolled back to the front of his head. He glanced between your legs and you knew what had caught his attention. You could feel his cum dripping out of you. In your haze, you wondered why it didn’t float like his blood.

“You won’t try to leave again.”

Pennywise was staring at you in his unsettlingly still way. Occasionally, a piece of him would twitch, but when he spoke, the only muscles that moved were the ones around his mouth. It wasn’t really a question, but you answered anyway.

“No. I won’t run.”

He zeroed in on you as his voice dropped to a distorted whisper. The air behind him wavered, making you dizzy.

“I’ll kill you.”

“I know.”

And you did. You were out of chances. You had pushed him to the limits of his leniency and next time, the feel of your body being torn apart wouldn’t be an illusion. Grim determination set in. You were not going to let that happen. No matter what it took, you wanted to leave Derry alive.

The pressure around Pennywise eased and he even flashed his fake clown smile as he bent down to pick you up.

“Good. Let’s get you home honey. Where you belong.”

Once you were in his arms, you nodded and laid your cheek against the ruffles of his costume. No matter what it took, you were going to survive.

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 20

Through one final archway you exited into an open stretch of green leading to the great lake crossing the path. You smiled up at Idris and Fawkes on his evening flight while Norberta and Opal exited the same archway to make her trip to Hagrid’s hut for her appearance as the subject for his later lesson with the older students that were to help gather her latest measurements and help with her feeding. On your right he said, “It is comforting to see your people so at peace in these lands, and that the barriers are so good at keeping the winds in check.”

You let out a weak giggle, “We had to put windmills around our borders to help with that. They gather energy and fuel some of our buildings, mainly our hospital. It actually is quite useful, though we do have to find a use for the three hour mists that linger in the mornings since the snows stopped. Though a few of our creatures do enjoy the moisture, as do a few of our plants.”

Smiling down at you he shifted closer to your side, “That is good to hear.”

“We’ll just have to see how winter is here, that will be the test, but we’ll manage it.”

“I am certain you will.”

Looking forward again you spotted your doorway popping up with Fred and George surrounded by the Elf King, twins and Prince while Ginny popped out behind them asking, “Jaqi, can borrow your mood ring?”

With a nod you slipped it off your hand and passed it to her and said, “Of course.”

She flashed you a quick grin, “Hard to word how it works. I’ll have it back to you at dinner.”

You watched the sighing teen glance over Elrond’s Sons peered around curiously taking in the surroundings. Off to your left the Whomping Willow drew the eye of the Elf Twins as you said, “Our Willow. If you need it, there’s a knot on the stump that immobilizes it, though I doubt it’ll let you get that close. Please try not to get injured, I doubt your Father would forgive me for that.”

They nodded and Elladan stated, “We will learn what is angering your Willow.”

“Just try not to get too close or it’ll think you’re going for the tunnel it’s protecting.”

Ellohrir, “Tunnel?”

You nodded, “It leads to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The small town not far from here.”

Elladan nodded and led the way, “We will get to the bottom of this.”

You smirked again as Fred and George shook their heads, through the doors behind him Ginny passed through mumbling, “I’ll make sure they don’t die. Mum keeps trying to teach me to knit. Was going to show this to-, though it can wait, they can’t go alone.”

In her trot after the pair pocketing your ring she seemed to grin at their shared comments while Fred said, “She’s not on the couch as much.”

George, “Mum keeps trying to get her to move.”

Fred, “Insisting on hobbies. Don’t know how you managed it.”

George, “Even took a tour of Lothlorien the other day just to get away from gardening lessons.”

Fred let out a laugh as you started walking to the lake, “Ended up getting pulled into a tour of the gardens by one of their border protectors.”

Thranduil peered at you curiously asking, “Has she been unwell?”

You met his eye, “She was in a relationship with my Cousin Harry. She thought she might have been pregnant when we fell here.”

His lips parted as Legolas and Glorfindel both peered at you as well through George saying, “Been a rough time, but she’s so young, plenty of time for families still.”

Fred, “Besides, when she settles again Dad’s certain she’ll have plenty of offers.”

George, “Even that border guard, keeps making trips past the portal into our main courtyard on weekends to peer over our fence.”

You let out a giggle, “Either that or he’s wondering how the house stays up.”

Fred chuckled too, adding, “Or how we get our hogs so large.”

George, “Or why Percy insists on practicing his singing in the front yard.”

You giggled again, “That would gain a great deal of stares.”

Glorfindel, “Which border guard?”

George, “Um, it starts with an H, only heard it through the walls.”

Fred, “Halmir?”

In a giggle you replied, “Haldir.”

Legolas looked at him, “Ah, yes, his eldest Son, Halmir sailed centuries past with his Wife.”

Thranduil, “March Warden in Lothlorien, a respectable position for any of your kin, should you be considering it.”

Fred, “Either way it’s Ginny’s choice.”

George laughed, “Pity the lad trying to force a match with her.”

Fred, “She seemed to absorb our tempers growing up.”

You giggled as well, “And every bit of rebellion too. Great deal of patience would be called for.”

Glorfindel’s hand shifted in yours as he stated, “For our Ones you would not find a greater source of patience. Our kin have been known to wait ages for a single glimpse. Though should he believe her to be his, her Father would be informed first, before any steps are taken to approach her.”

George smirked, “Good thing Dale’s plans are finalized then, it’ll give the poor lad a chance to find Dad. The meeting points of the new Council keep getting moved.”

Unable to hold his tongue on the subject any more after another glance at you Thranduil stated, “I understand you discovered some returned Elves earlier, Jaqi.”

You nodded, “They don’t like me very much at first glance apparently. Part of Elrond’s family.”

Thranduil nodded, “What they had said about you, it will not happen again. I am certain Elrond will set them straight on your trustworthiness.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you, but it will take a lot more than someone doubting my character to hurt my feelings. And I’ve been called far worse than creature.”

Beneath the tree beside the lake you paused seeing a group of curious students watching as Fred and George drew in a breath pulling out a large jar each from their bags, they claimed a swirl of Gillyweed and slid it into their mouths chewing it before offering some to the trio of Elves inspecting the strange plants. “Gillyweed, it’ll give you an hour roughly of being able to breathe freely under water.” You reached down to untie your raised left heel you slid off and set aside before removing the other.

Fred slicked his tongue over his teeth holding back his shudder at the taste after swallowing, “It’s not the most pleasant, but it’s a lot better than bubble charms.”

The trio struggled the food down then eyed your hands unbuttoning your blouse as the twins toed out of their shoes and pulled off their socks before pulling their shirts off over their heads to add to your pile of shoes. The trio pulled off their shirts and boots as well and set them near yours.

In a glance up Thranduil and Glorfindel both swallowed dryly as your blouse was slid free from your shoulders to drop to your hands behind your back and to flutter down to the pile. A simple tug of your waistband on your unzipped jeans brought the black pair of panties matching your bra to their attention making their breath catch in their throats.

While Legolas eyed the tattoo for your Father and other scattered smaller tattoos matching those across your sides matching the twins for their animangus as Phoenix and dark marks across your hidden muscles, especially those in your toned legs when your hands smoothed your legs free from your black jeans you added to the pile. Hungrily their eyes scanned over your hidden dips and curves as you looked over the trio and passed them hair ties through their first dry near gag at the plant working their bodies into forming gills.

After tying back their hair they followed you to the water’s edge. You clipped your wand sheath onto a band you eased onto your wrist then tied up your hair in your backwards walk into the water saying, “The shift is uncomfortable, but after you will be able to see and breathe under water perfectly, and you’re hands and feet will grow fins as well.”

Legolas, “Fins?”

You nodded and Fred added, “No worries though, goes away after the hours up.” His eyes scanned over the Prince’s as he stole a glance over their similar groupings of freckles through securing their fanny packs around their waists.

In your own inspection of the King and Lord staring at you, it took all you had not to blush and keep your hair from changing color at your clear attraction to the broad muscular pair still trying to focus on you and not their discomfort at the shift. Slowly they eased into the water after you trying not to reveal their own attraction to you that quickened their pace in hopes of sinking into the water before and twinges below the waist were to reveal their hormonal urges to reach out for you even here in plain sight to strip you of what you had left. The addition of your own fanny pack George offered you drew their eyes to the dimples across your lower back when you turned again to lower and swim out into deeper water with the Twins.

Sinking into the water Legolas asked, “You have not eaten your plant yet Naneth.”

His eyes sank to his hands seeing the webbing latching between them stirring a weak smile, lower and lower they sunk into the water as you replied, “I don’t need any.” Trying to hide your puzzled racing thoughts at the now clear meaning of his nickname, peering over to Thranduil you asked, “How many languages do you know?”

Wetting his lips he replied, “Valinorian, Doriathian, Silvan, Quenya, Rohirric and Gondorian. I do understand small common phrases of Khuzdul as well, why?”

“How many can you read and write?”

“All but Valinorian and Khuzdul past a few common runes, again, why? Have you uncovered a text you need translating?”

“I’m trying to learn the languages of your world, would you teach me?”

He nodded, “I would be glad to. And any language you wish to share I would be grateful to master.”

After a set of confirming checks on each other’s gills the twins started the groups sinking under the surface. All eyes fell to you as they claimed their surprising first breaths. You sank into the water and your softly glowing skin seemed to shimmer across your legs that pressed together and grew longer making their lips part. In a manner of seconds your legs were swapped with a long deep silvery blue tail as your hands grew a set of fins as well in your turn to join the twins on the path deeper into the lake. Breaking through their shock at your change the trio swam after you taking in the darkening surroundings and swaying seaweed in the distance.

Not long past the swaying forest you sank into singing became audible and you glanced back at the curious blondes saying, “Nearly there now.”

Through parted lips they each tested their voices under water making you giggle and face forward again eyeing the small squids swimming out through the seaweed to swim around your stomach and back before latching onto your arms for a rest to eye the men around you before letting go to circle the source of their interest.

Crossing a crumbling courtyard outside a patch of coral you eyed the curious fish exiting their homes to peer up at you before you passed their borders and followed the stone formed path to a giant glimmering city. Outside their borders you spotted a pair of mermaids waiting to guide you to the pearl patch near a massive crevice in which the giant squid dwelled surrounded by singing mermen carrying baskets of food offerings to leave by the crevice.

The rocky sand coated grounds between patches of seaweed and various underwater plants mermaids were pruning you eyed the patch of oysters and clams rising from the sand to spit their pearls into the water above. Sinking above them your hands extended to claim a couple pearls you passed to the trio eyeing the swirling lights inside making them nearly gasp at the apparent galaxies trapped inside.

When they looked again the saw the jar you drew from your bag as the twins moved to two other patches to collect the other types of pearls, one that changes color based on the position of sun and moon and the other that each let out a soft hum of its own. The free mermaids and mermen aided you on collecting the pesky jewels they had no use for and struggled to contain in their borders as they kept growing to longer they remained in the water until they split releasing murky liquids killing all plants around them when reaching the size of a large cow.

.

With full jars you turned and swam for the surface again to dry off and get dressed again as the giant squid rose from the seemingly endless crevice he called home to sample from his offerings eyeing your group curiously with a softening expression at you and the twins he recognized from your years of friendship.

Shaking your feet in your walk to the shore your feet changed back to normal and the water left your body. In your turn to Legolas a wave of your hand left him dry again as he pulled his hair free from the hair tie. Fred helped Thranduil dry as you turned nearly crashing into Glorfindel’s chest in his move to your side. The few inches between you brought the white scars stemming from his ribs over his chest to your attention, in a reach out your fingers eased along the longest nearly making him shiver at the contact. In their being dried the twins headed off to the Chamber office to add the pearls to the rest of your supplies.

Glorfindel, “An ambush by Goblins in the second age. The scars have lessened greatly in time. My others have healed.” You nodded as his hand covered yours and raised it to kiss your knuckles then released it to allow you to dress again unwilling to claim more while in such a public state of undress.

.

Fully dressed you peered up at Thranduil in his approach to your free side only to glance at the water when another body crashed from nothingness to the surface earning cheers from students across the pond repeating, “Belly flop!”

You let out a giggle then approached the waters edge as the raven haired man approached the edge. Fleeing from the large tentacle pushing him to the edge, on land he panted and turned to you then flinched away as you asked, “Elrond?”

The familiar face on the tall Elf now forming a deep scowl at you made you glance at Thranduil to ask, “Is it my hair? What could I possibly be doing?”

The step closer to you with hands rising made Glorfindel drop his boots to rush over tackling the Elf into the water again in his attempt at choking you while Thranduil moved to guide you towards the tree. The pair struggled in the water shouting in broken Doriathian between traded blows and bouts of pinning the other down while Legolas blocked you from sight. Thranduil watched the pair as Glorfindel tried and failed to talk him down from his rage, and assured you softly, “You have done nothing to earn an attack.”

The air above the lake flashed with lights again as two more bodies fell with piercing cries, not adults this time however, but two young boys. With a soft gasp you raced around Legolas and dove into the water beside the frozen pair standing to watch your body morph and speed deeper into the water. Down you dove to the sinking pair then rose again for the Elves to see you surface with both boys in your arms for the swim back to the edge. Coughs were soon followed by more frightened cries before a woman fell next into the swelling water as the eye of the giant squid peered up at the swirling cloud of lights in the sky reflected in his eyes that simply vanished.

On the shore your eyes turned to Elrond’s doppelganger as he shouted, “Unhand those Children Melkor!”

Softly you repeated the name then glanced at Thranduil, who stepped between you in his attempt at a step to you as Legolas helped the floundering Elleth to the edge. In a stern tone Thranduil shouted back, “You will not speak to Lady Black in that manner Lord Elros!”

Softly you repeated his name to yourself as you peered down at the apparent toddlers latching onto your shirt trying to burrow closer to your chest in fear of the shouting stranger as Elros cried back, “When did you fall to this madness! My Father’s told me the signs! Those are the eyes of Melkor! She doesn’t even try to mask them you fool!”

Glorfindel, “You are mistaken! I have faced Melkor in battle, she is not Melkor!”

Elros scoffed, “Fools the lot of you! My Brother will see through this charade!”

His hand rushed through the pair’s shoulders in a reach for the boys only to go falling to his side after your hand rose to wrap around his wrist. His eyes flashed silver in your mind meeting his, sharing who you were and your fall here.

In a blink when you let him go his eyes flashed back again then settled on you as you folded your arms around the boys again in their whimpering states. Legolas guided the woman closer to you watching as you said, “I have no idea who this Melkor is, but hopefully that is proof enough I mean you no harm. If you would not mind, the boys are terrified and your shouting is not helping.”

In a glance to the woman you watched her gasp softly and throw herself into Glorfindel’s chest calling his name, in a step back he helped her upright and bowed his head, “Lady Aredhel,” his head turned to you as his hand extended saying, “This is my, well, our One, Jaqiearae Black.”

She looked to you with a soft smile bowing her head, then to Thranduil with a puzzled expression trying to decipher where she knew him from, “And you are?”

“Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Great Greenwood.”

Her lips parted fro a gasp as she stated, “Oropher! Your Ada’s shop was my Ada’s favored stop in the markets.” Her smile grew as he nodded before she peered at Legolas through his introduction ending with him ushering her from the edge.

Over to you Elladan and Ellohrir raced with Ginny behind them open mouthed looking at their uncle, the pair approached him stating, “Uncle Elros..”

Elros’ eyes scanned over the pair and he asked, “Uncle?”

With a grin they extended their hands and began to guide him back to Rivendell, “Come, see Ada.”

In their passing through the doorway with Aredhel following curiously behind them you muttered, “Ada..” The word made Thranduil turn looking you over, only to have his lips part recognizing the pair in your arms.

Ginny gave you a grin and said, “They nearly got crushed, five times. I think I’ll head out now, let you calm them down.”

You nodded and your closed then reopened doorway let her through and vanished after her freeing your gaze to drop to the boys when Thranduil stepped closer. His head tilted slightly with a hint of a grin on his face, “Princes Elured, Elurin,” their soft whimpering curl against your chest paused to glimpse out at the King stepping closer, “Do you remember me? My name is Thranduil. Your Naneth used to bring you into my Parents’ shop.”

“We can’t take them to Rivendell. Those Lords, they-,”

You shook your head and Glorfindel moved closer resting his hand on your upper back, “We understand perfectly.”

Thranduil looked to the boys stating, “Princes, we will show you to my Kingdom and get you something to eat. I swear you will be safe there. No one will dare harm you, not with Lady Black’s barriers protecting it.”

Their eyes rose to you and you said, “No one breaks my barriers.”

In a matching set of nods the bright eyed pair looked to the doorway Thranduil led you all through the doorway you summoned mentally sending word ahead to have a meal prepared.

.

Onto a large cushioned backed stool you set the boys and glanced across at Thranduil mid conversation with a pair of servants instructing them to ready Glorfindel’s apartment. Beside you Glorfindel slid it your high backed stool with an easy grin stating, “Do not worry. I will be their guardian. We will not allow the Princes to want for any joy in these lands.”

Curious glances from the servants around you fell on the boys as they eyed the food set in front of them then you again. Your soft smile eased their worries as you stated, “Eat what you like.”

In timid Doriathian the one farthest from you asked, “Are you our Mother now?”

With the parting of your lips Glorfindel stated through a grin, “I am going to be your guardian now.” In their deflating exhales and reach for a slice of fruit their eyes shifted back to him when he said, “Lady Black will be charging my care of you of course.” Those words seemed to be a calming force in them while Thranduil came to join you at the table across from you. Legolas had seemed to vanish only to pop through the archways from Rivendell with Estel on his hip and Em on the other making your lips part again.

“How did you get in Rivendell?”

Legolas answered for her while she chewed on a slice of an orange from the bag in her other hand, “Regulus arrived and Lindir sent word to me that an emergency came up in the Ministry. Something about a chimney requiring, Molly, as well.”

“Ah,” In his lowering the pair onto the backed stool beside Thranduil the Prince sat beside Estel unable to keep from grinning at his greatly expanded family before you looked to the boys. “Could you tell me your names? Or which of you belongs to which name?”

They eyed Glorfindel and the twins as he replied, “I am Elurin.”

His Brother added, “I am Elured.”

You smiled at the boys after naming their relatives, “Well boys, you have your Nephew, Elrond, his twin Elros, and his Nephews Elladan and Ellohrir, they were at the lake. Their Parents and Sister are in Rivendell as well, so you have family to visit you.”

Their eyes sank to the table sadly making your brows furrow curiously as they continued reaching for the small tea sandwiches set before them as cheery voices of fostering Elves on an evening stroll drew closer.

At a sharp zapping sound at the archway your head turned at Thranduil’s stiffening up making you say, “That is what happens when someone you won’t allow through tries to use the archway. Same as the border. They should be conscious in ten minutes.”

Legolas, “Does it hurt?”

Your curt giggle shared all they needed to know, “Hurt doesn’t come close.”

Tentatively Elrond stepped through the arch and let out a breath of relief upon being allowed through your barrier and made his way to the table. His eyes scanned over the group and he stated with a hint of a grin on his face, “I have come to thank you for delivering my brother back to Rivendell along with Lady Aredhel. Both are elated to see their families again. Also, I wished to pay my respects to my uncles,” his head bowed to the pair who looked him over curiously then looked to you seeing your comfort around him, “Thank you, for finding them and protecting them. We have been pained with their loss at so young for ages. I do understand why they were brought here over Rivendell.”

His mind reaching out to Glorfindel asking while he poured juice out for the Princes, “Glorfindel, would you claim them?”

The blonde peered up at him and nodded, “Of course. I would not imagine to leave the task solely to Lady Black worsening her daily tasks by adding two more children to her load.”

“I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries,”

His head shook and he stated, “I wished to state that I support your decision to protect the Princes. To ensure their safety under your watch Glorfindel would care for them in Greenwood to ensure their comfort. I am certain Thranduil would not mind having two young Princes in his halls.” His eyes shifted to Glorfindel, “For having taken guardianship I will see to it you are removed from our patrols.”

“You’re firing him?”

Glorfindel’s hand settled on your arm luring your eyes to him, “Not at all. Thank you Dearest, for being concerned of my being cast out. I have fostered youth before, I will ensure their safety, I give you my word. Merely accommodating my move to Greenwood. Please do not be concerned. Either way, I must pack.” You nodded and he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and stood, “And gather Lipte who always enjoys these pastures in our previous stays.” In his move around you his fingers trailed off your arm and brushed through your hair in his crossings the garden to the arches.

Elrond again had your attention in asking Thranduil, “If I may, the barrier?”

Thranduil, “I have merely barred Lords Maglor and Maedhros from these lands in my own defense for the Princes. The rest of your kin are welcome of course.” Earning an understanding and grateful nod from the Lord.

“Which one touched the barrier?”

Elrond looked to you stating, “Maedhros.”

With a nod you asked, “Is he the dumber of the two?” His brow inched up and you said, “He should wake up in a few minutes, the second time he will be unconscious longer. Each time will grow more powerful until the seventh, which will kill him.” Elrond nodded and you said, “It’s an old spell, Dragons count by sevens, you get just shy of one batch to be forgiven and walk away.”

Elrond couldn’t help but chuckle to himself then look to Thranduil asking, “Also, this might be a bit sudden. However, I believed the Princes might wish for some company through the days.”

Thranduil taking his meaning nodded in return, “Of course we would love to house Estel as well.” You looked between them and Elrond stated, “Lindir has already begun packing his transferable belongings, I know you have a guest room for him already, simplifying matters greatly. It is best to have the little ones with ample company to occupy them.”

Shifting on his feet he strode around the table to take Glorfindel’s seat still seeing the confusion and worry in your eyes and rested his hand on your wringing jumble of fingers on your lap to say kindly, “Miss Black, we share a childhood experience the four of us. Please do trust that even though I have grown to have a fondness for the men who took pity and refused to slay me in taking Doriath I do not question your decision. In fact I would have suggested it myself to Thranduil had you not. They were much younger than Elros and I, nearer to your age when you faced it.

Much like your kin we must be better for our little ones. I trust your heart on this and Glorfindel will see to their every need, while also being amply welcome in Rivendell. It is merely a shift in living quarters and his will remain his in Rivendell if ever he requires a rest. Now, I must get back, Lindir tends to become flustered when packing worrying he has not gathered enough for any occasion.” He stood and walked to the archway, “As if we have no doorway to travel now easing fetching things.” Nodding his head one last time to his uncles in his passing them, “It is a pleasure to meet you finally. When you do feel comfortable you are always welcome in my lands as well.”

More food arrived and the screech of an owl raised the King’s eyes to the bird flying through your archway. Curiously his eyes shifted to you asking, “You wrote to me?”

Shaking your head you said, “That’s Hedwig, must be from Hermione. She got her after we lost Harry.”

In a reach up he accepted the letter and the boys glanced up at Hedwig in her land on the table inching closer to the tray of deli meat. With a smile Estel pulled off a slice the bird tore apart to eat making the children giggle at her content noises and move to inspect the rest of the spread. Opening the letter he stated, “I have been invited to the introductory dinner between the Grangers and Durins.”

“Huh,” you stated to yourself and his eyes rose from the page back to you in your soft thanks to the Elleth pouring your tea making the boys begin to thank those bringing more food and drinks for them.

Thranduil, “It is common to invite another third party to buffer the evening.”

Legolas stated with a grin, “Ada, I believe a run might aid Miss Black’s relaxing before the dinner.”

In a glance between the two from you Thranduil stated with a hint of a grin, “Yes, I believe it would.” Up onto his feet he stood after giving Em’s back a gentle pat saying, “We will be back in a little while, Em.”

Legolas caught your eye giving you a quick grin, “Glorfindel should be back shortly. Have fun.”

Thranduil extended his hand when he reached your side and gave you a gentle grin when you settled your hand in his and rose to your feet at the Princes wishing you a fun run. Their eyes turned back to Estel in sharing the rules of tag while Em reached up to touch Legolas’ hand resting on the back of the stool drawing his attention to her in her inspection of the embroidery on his sleeve making his grin deepen. The tiny girl such an impressive double of your own curious nature he would be pleased greatly to call his baby sister among three new adopted baby brothers.

Eating would soon lead to tag spreading the number of guards come to aid in minding all four little ones from wandering off or gaining injuries. Though the timid nature of the twins soon turned the game to shift to a move to Estel’s play room for his blocks to build something to keep the twins from worrying on getting dirty or disheveled in your absence.

Pt 21

[theunderdogwrites]

Green Lives Matter

My favorite Halloween costume from my childhood (age 10) was The Hulk.

For three reasons:

1.       I made it myself

2.       I wore it two years in a row

3.       It made my outside look how I felt on the inside – tough but complicated

I cut up an old pair of jeans to look as though my tiny legs had busted through the seams and to make it appear like I’d grown taller. I took an old white dress shirt and shredded the sleeves to symbolize my biceps exploding in rage and slightly shredded away the length. I put black (safe) spray paint in my hair and painted my legs, arms and face in Hulk green to complete the look. There is a photo of this masterpiece somewhere in an old album, I just don’t have access to it right at this moment. I know I looked magnificent because I remember the feeling of hiding behind this larger than life character for a night while grunting for candy or else “HULK SMASH!” your front door down. I love this memory.

Now let’s address this – I did green face.

I refuse to apologize and if The Hulk wants to come find me and break me like a hard pretzel, well then he better bring backup because even though I am no longer painting my face green… I have turned myself into a Hulk. Ok, a mini Hulk. But I can conjure up a temper and throw a tantrum while also being completely unreasonable and void of real direction. So... yeah, he’s going to need someone other than Black Widow to come with him.

I should mention that I am white. And not just white – I am Scottish white (Scottish heritage, born in Canada). Fair skinned, blonde hair, green eyes and I once thought mashed potatoes were the best food of all time. Until I discovered garlic mashed potatoes. Mind blown.

“I love humanity, but I hate humans.” – Albert Einstein

Let’s not lie – being white has its privileges. Do I know what all those privileges are? No, probably because I’m privileged in some way. But I find myself going back to the same bit to explain so much that I encounter in life:

Until my high school guidance councillor explained to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was a thing. I had no idea it was a possibility and I certainly did not know that many people were actively participating.

My lack of knowledge wasn’t due to privilege but rather because suicide had never been apart of my life experience. Would we call that ignorance? Some definitely would because it literally means ‘being unaware’. I feel an ignorant person is not only being unaware, but also a first-rate wanker because they won’t educate themselves or evolve and wish to remain blind to reality.

Once I became aware of suicide, I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist. I started to pay attention. I didn’t brush it off as an experience that didn’t affect me but rather a symptom of fragile mental health and I gave it the consideration it deserved as something that many people were suffering through… most of the time alone. If I see something that is wrong, that I know needs my support – I am there.

That is not my privilege speaking, that is my humanity.  

 The senseless murder of George Floyd ignited a firestorm.

(A firestorm is a conflagration (an extensive fire which destroys a great deal of land or property) which attains such intensity that it creates and sustains its own wind system. It is most commonly a natural phenomenon, created during some of the largest bushfires and wildfires.)

When I saw the footage on the news – I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand the blank, almost twisted look on that officer’s face as he drove his knee down on George Floyd’s neck. I didn’t understand the blatant inaction of the other officers while witnessing this brutal extinguishing of a human being. I didn’t understand why this level of aggression was necessary on someone who was already subdued. And I didn’t understand why the words “I can’t breathe” didn’t invoke an ounce of compassion or relief.

Then came the protesting. Then the riots. Then the looting. And I still didn’t understand.

While some people want to group all three of these events, in my mind, these are three separate actions. Because by attaching the riots and the looting with the genuineness of the protesting…  it lessons the cause, blurs the intention and distracts from the truth… therefore painting the protestors with a brush of violence, greed and chaos. And that is beyond unfair.

The PROTESTS are NOT out of control.

The pain and frustration are what’s out of control and more importantly the injustice is out of control and people are responding to a situation where they feel angry and powerless. Yes, the fires, destruction of property and looting are awful collateral here but it’s important to not loose focus on what caused this current situation. We often look at with contempt and criticize reactions while forgetting the action that started everything.

And that is another injustice.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin writing about Black Lives Matter or Antifa. I say this because of the controversy surrounding both movements. And if you dive deep enough into the internet, like I did, you too will begin to suffer from what I like to call ‘I don’t know what to fucking think anymore-itis’.

So, I’m going to escape talking about these two groups with this:

“Instead of feeling threatened by and hating a movement, be glad you don’t need a movement.”

 My experience with black people is pretty limited. Not by choice, but rather due to geography, common interests and quite possibly socioeconomics. I can count on one hand the number of black people I knew throughout my school-aged years. My area was diverse in other ways, so no, I did not grow up in White Breadville. I mention all this to lay down a bit of background before I continue.

“I don’t see colour.” How many of us have said this at least once in the last six months? I have. And I probably said it to prove to myself or someone else that I wasn’t racist. But I no longer say that… because the truth is, I do see colour. I see ALL the fucking colours and they are beautiful. It’s people who are ugly.

If you were to ask me point blank if I was racist, I’d tell you point blank – I am not. And I’d say this with absolute belief in my character and sincerity. I care less about your skin colour and nationality and more about you returning your shopping cart to its proper location. That is the truth. Your religion doesn’t bother me at all (as long as you’re not cramming it down my throat) but your ability to treat others with genuine kindness and compassion sure matters to me. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you want to identify… be a Martian, I’m totally cool with that, but bully others in my presence and I will come at you with the full force of nuclear pasta (look it up).

The last handful of months (I’m assuming here) has caused most of us to pull up and examine those deep in the corner of our brain concepts. You know the ones – the ones that might get you questioned by The Thought Police if they existed outside of fiction. It’s ok, we all have those little bastard notions creeping around… no matter the skin colour. I started to take a closer look at some of the things I think and how they would affect others if I wore those thoughts on a t-shirt. Needless to say, I’m not super impressed with myself. Because while I know with all my heart that I am not a racist person, I do recognize that I buy into and perpetuate some stereotypes. And I have zero excuses. This admission makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I’m ok with that… I can learn through discomfort.

I hear many people talking about and referring to white guilt.

-          White Guilt: ‘the feelings of shame and remorse some white people experience when they recognize the legacy of racism and racial injustice and perceive the ways they have benefited from it’.

I do not feel shame and remorse as a white person. As a human being, I am ashamed of how many of my fellow humans treat those who do not look the way they do or do not come from the same background. Do I believe there is a legacy of racism and racial injustice? Yes, 100%. Have I benefitted from this because I am white? I may be too dumb to answer this correctly. Or maybe too white? Or maybe I’ve had blinders on because based upon my own level of perception, I’ve always struggled to navigate my own existence therefore only know what has directly prevented me from being who and what I want in this world?

I underlined ‘level of perception’ because as the quote goes: “I stopped explaining myself when I realized people only understand things from their level of perception”

Earlier I said there were so many things I didn’t understand about George Floyd’s death and the protests etc. but here is something I do comprehend - there’s a big difference between understanding someone’s plight and being understanding of someone’s plight. Sympathy doesn’t require a total understanding of what problems other people are experiencing.

I may not fully grasp the struggles of those in the black community because it is not my experience but I will not ignore, deny or challenge their struggles. I will however educate myself on the issues, observe my own reactions and offer support in the ways I can and offer compassion to anyone who is willing to accept a little love from a min Hulk.

Nothing I write here is meant to change your mind. It is not meant to offend or shame you for how you may feel or think and nothing I write here is meant to lessen the seriousness of the current situation facing an entire community of people. As a writer my only goal is often to just disrupt your thoughts. Period.

[libraryscarf]

i wrote a piece for a mini anthology zine called “Covenant,” which you can (and should) download for free right here! everybody put a lot of love into this project and i’m so happy to see its reception <3 anyway, i got to write some daifuku, so that was just a big bonus.

closer ( read on ao3 )

There are two lessons Kofuku has learned from humans in her long, long life.

The first is that they hate for little reason.

: : :

“I think he...hic...hates me,” she whines, right before emptying the sake bottle in several despondent gulps. Bishamon gingerly scoots the three other full bottles out of reach before embracing her weeping friend.

“Of course he doesn’t hate you,” she says comfortingly. “He’s your shinki. He adores you.”

This just makes Kofuku cry harder.

“Nooooo,” she whimpers, a sob catching wetly in her throat. “I’m the woooorst. I break everything and I ruin the tea and none of my clothes fit right. Nobody would want me as a goddess. He hates me.”

Bishamon combs Kofuku’s tangled hair through her fingers, the impulse to laugh at her friend’s histrionics tempered by her realization that deep down, somewhere under the ocean of alcohol, Kofuku truly believes no shinki could be happy with her.

“Has he stung you?”

Kofuku goes very still. For a moment, Bishamon thinks she has asked a terrible question. Then Kofuku sniffles, wiping her nose angstily on Bishamon’s shoulder.

“N-no,” she admits. “B-But, I feel how uncomfortable he is around me. There’s this weird weight in my stomach whenever I get close to him, or try to touch him, and it makes me want to...want to…”

Then she’s crying again, her tears soaking clean through Bishamon’s thin robe and trickling down her collarbone. Bishamon’s brow furrows. She has felt a similar sensation to what Kofuku describes, usually from her younger shinki. It fades over time. But Kofuku…

: : :

Kofuku is miserable.

If she really had to put a name to it, she would say it isn’t hatred she feels from her shinki, so much as it is a deep unwillingness to be close to her. And Kofuku craves closeness. She would shower him with affection if he would accept it. It is his due, as her one loyal shinki.

But his responses to her overtures so far have been…discouraging.

“I thought I’d make dinner tonight!” she chirps. “You always do it, Daikoku! It’s unfair.”

She slides up alongside him where he sits cross-legged at the table, and feels his body go rigid when her shoulder brushes his side. Kofuku’s heart sinks to her knees.

“You want to cook?” he asks, hesitantly. “Using…fire?”

“Why not?! You do it all the time!”

Daikoku glances down at her, sidelong. “Because. Uh…mistress.”

“Kofuku!” she corrects, frowning.

“Because, Mistress Kofuku,” he emphasizes the honorific, earning himself a scowl. “You aren’t used to it. And I don’t mind doing the cooking.”

The long months of frustration and yearning and disappointment congeal around this one, completely banal conversation in Kofuku’s heart. She has tried, and tried, and tried to make this shinki love her, to make herself a god worth loving. But he seems determined to keep her at arm’s length, and Kofuku can feel his reluctance to close that distance. She carries it physically: a cold solid lump in the place where her stomach should be.

Daikoku’s face goes very white when he sees the tears collecting at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey!” he blurts out. “Hey, don’t do that!”

Kofuku glares at her clenched fists. “Why not?” she mutters petulantly.

Daikoku shuffles himself to face her, and for a dreadful moment she thinks he’s getting up—that he’s going to leave her like this, sniffling and pathetic. But he doesn’t stand. He just looks at the top of her head.

Kofuku glances up at him through her eyelashes, and the expression on his face is half-panic, half-distress. He has such a nice, strong face: beautiful despite the mean eyebrows and the stern mouth. She has to admire it, even now.

“You’re really crying because you want to make dinner?” he asks.

“Yes!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kofuku is so startled that her tears abruptly stop, and she looks up at him. Daikoku, realizing what he’s just said, winces.

“What I meant is—”

“No.” Kofuku stops him with a threatening finger aimed directly at his chest. “No backing out of it,” she warns, although her voice is watery and quite the opposite of intimidating

“If you don’t believe me, then what do you think I’m upset about?” she demands.

Now Daikoku looks like he actually wants to run away.

“I…” He clears his throat.

A laden moment passes.

“I’m not…good at this.”

It is Kofuku’s instinct to pounce on that admission, to reassure him that he’s absolutely wonderful, fantastic, the best shinki, the handsomest and kindest she could ask for. But, with a heroic effort, she keeps her lips glued firmly shut.

Clearly struggling, and growing unnerved by her silence, Daikoku continues:

“I’m not very good at…talking feelings stuff. You know?”

Kofuku nods emphatically, an errant tear flying off the end of her nose. Unable to stop herself from reaching out, she grabs his hand and squeezes it. So close, Daikoku, she thinks. So, so close.

“But…I don’t like seeing you cry,” he says, almost inaudibly. Then, in a much gruffer tone: “I’m still not going to let you do anything in the kitchen. You might be a goddess and everything, but that won’t stop you from burning the place down.”

Kofuku’s eyes light up.

“Daikoku!” she giggles. “That’s the first time you’ve ever scolded me!”

He looks mortified at that, and Kofuku is quick to grab his other hand.

“No, no, please don’t worry! I was wondering when you’d lose your temper at me, and this was so much better than what I expected. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been screamed at before. You’re so nice to me, Daikoku.”

She smiles at him then, broad and bright and generous. The expression on Daikoku’s face is an odd one. It shifts from embarrassment, to shock, to something bordering on pain.

“Oh,” he says simply. “I see.”

Kofuku squeezes his hands again, then loosens her grip so that if he wants to, he can pull away. He doesn’t.

She may be imagining it, but the discomfort in the pit of her stomach seems to lift. And she thinks maybe, if she can teach him fearlessness with her, they may still be able to bridge that small distance.

She should be able to do that. She can teach one human, perhaps, that her heart does not yield the same rotten harvest as her godhood. After all, there are two lessons Kofuku has learned from them. The first is that they can hate for little reason.

The second is that they can love for none at all.

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe Graphic Novel Camp Pining Play (2019) - Outline & Review

The fourth original graphic novel for Steven Universe, Camp Pining Play, is a new story for the Lapis and Peridot fans, presented as a theatre project but focusing on relationships and emotional resolution more than anything. It’s new content–unlike some of the trade paperbacks that collect previously released individual issues of the comics. It is written by Nicole Mannino, with illustrations by Lisa Sterle and a cover by Francesca Perrone.

This graphic novel involves Peridot and Lapis falling in love with a piece of Camp Pining Hearts fanfiction--which turns out to have been secretly written by Lars--and after they get permission and have auditions, they put on a play that becomes ever more loosely based on the original fan work. Everyone involved seems to have input that takes the story farther from its origins, but they're determined to still present its heart . . . which becomes difficult when Lapis is uncomfortable with a central facet in the finale--a pretend fusion--but doesn't feel empowered to speak up about it even though Peridot keeps checking in with her. It's actually pretty nuanced throughout despite also having a lot of pretty superficial gags, and every character works pretty well as themselves on more than one level despite this being written by people outside the show team. As usual with my reviews, I'll discuss the story and then present a list of notable items.

(I’ve got to cut for length, sorry. Please look at the amazing sample panels under the cut even if you don’t want to read all my rambles about it.) 

 [SU Book and Comic Reviews]

The story:

Peridot and Lapis are reading and enjoying Camp Pining Hearts fanfiction, relishing the author's faithfulness to the show while featuring their favorite non-canon ship (Percy x Pierre). Lapis indulges Peridot's desire to hear her "Percy voice," and they praise the fanfiction while kicking around ideas of how it could become more real--like maybe it could be made into a real episode or an animated adaptation. Soon, though, they decide a play would be a great idea, though they would have to find the author and get their permission.

Using her homemade app Find-A-Clod, Peridot discovers the identity of the fanfic author, and who should it be but good old Lars Barriga--the local "Donut Butler," as Peridot calls him. Predictably, Lars first denies his authorship, then requests secrecy while admitting it. Sadie, it turns out, also knew of his hobby, and she's edited his work tirelessly all along. Lars gives his permission for them to put on a play (as long as he gets to critique it from the shadows and not have his name attached in any way), but now they have another problem: How do you even put on a play?

Sadie jumps into the organizing chair, giving suggestions worthy of Peridot's title "Donut Master." She comes up with a series of steps, manages to get Mayor Dewey's permission, and receives a one-week planning timeframe. They jump into auditions next, and though everyone's enthusiastic, no one seems too fixated on what roles they want to play (besides Amethyst, who really wants to be a shell necklace used as a prop). Steven, as the most handsome human Peridot knows, gets propositioned to play Pierre, and Pearl becomes Paulette. Lapis is elected to play Percy even though she doesn't think she's actually as cool as the character is.

After the auditions, it's time for props. Lapis and Peridot make the actors create the props, though they soon find they need to give more direction or they'll get a bunch of junk they can't use. The sets and props become amalgams of what people can make and bring from home.

Finally, the rehearsals start. Everyone's struggling a little, from people who can't get their lines right to actors trying to destroy the props (well, Onion trying to destroy the props). But most of all, everyone seems to be awkwardly going through the motions, and Lars keeps shrieking "BOO!" because of how unlike his original story everything's going. Soon they come up with some ideas about making the presentation more their own so their characters won't be so awkward, and to help with the lack of chemistry between Percy (Lapis) and Pierre (Steven), Connie comes up with a unique idea. . . . 

She suggests Lapis and Steven should fuse!

Well, that's a controversial statement. Peridot's against it because she thinks their actions are enough to show their affection and they don't need fusion, and Garnet is opposed to fusion as a stage trick. But Connie isn't suggesting it willy-nilly; she thinks they'll need something big to really emphasize the characters' connection, and Amethyst thinks it'd make them seem "strong." But then everyone has ideas on how to change the story or characters, and the core creators of the production are split on how to feel about it.

The blessing is given to include more personal interpretation into the characters. Most importantly, though, Peridot decrees that the fusion at the end needs to be a fake fusion. Lapis isn't up for fusion, though she refuses to say so and ruin everyone else's time. Peridot believes this is a good compromise, but Lapis is still nervous. She keeps it to herself and the rehearsals continue.

The day before opening night, Peridot and Lapis have a heart-to-heart, because Peridot can tell Lapis is holding back a bit. She finds herself unwilling to be specific about her issue, while Peridot goes on a bit about how fun it's been to find a good balance between following rules and enjoying some flexibility. Lapis claims she's just a little shy, and pretends she is okay with the fake fusion scene. She clearly feels like she doesn't have any business objecting since it's not real, and Peridot simply takes her word for it. They distract themselves by fooling around doing voices of the characters.

Opening Night arrives and the audience is full of Beach City residents as well as some visitors. Peridot makes a speech backstage thanking everyone for helping (even the people who don't want to be acknowledged, like Lars), and she emphasizes that she appreciates Lapis's partnership. It's a very sweet moment.

But as soon as everyone scurries off to their places, Lapis gets nervous. The beginning scenes go on as planned, but then Lapis stalls with her entrance because she's freezing. She can't think about anything except how she'll have to fake a fusion. Sadie, as a background tree, gives Lapis a pep talk, and then Onion shoves her onstage and she tries her best. 

There are a few minor mishaps, but everyone mostly relaxes and carries out their roles. But then the climax occurs--Lapis's character Percy saves Steven's character Pierre from a dangerous lake after he's jumped in there to get Percy's special lost necklace. This is where they're supposed to have a moment and fake-fuse, but Lapis can't go through with even pretending. She lets loose what she's been feeling while on stage, forgetting about the play.

Peridot acknowledges that she knew about Lapis's discomfort with fusion, and she blames herself for approving the scene. But Lapis doesn't want Peridot to blame herself. She told Peridot that she was okay with it because she WANTED to be. It still didn't make her okay with it, though. And now she feels that she ruined the play through the very act of trying so hard not to ruin it for everyone else. But Peridot and Steven help Lapis understand that her feelings aren't irrational even though the fusion was "fake." Peridot only wants her to do it if she wants to do it.

With that, Peridot and Lapis embrace on the stage and exchange kind words, and then a smoke effect surrounds them. Some of the other actors get Steven, Peridot, and Lapis off the stage quickly and a pyramid of other actors assembles. Mr. Smiley and Greg begin playing a "Pierre and Percy Fusion" song, and the audience watches it blankly with little understanding, but Lars is emotional and clapping.

Finally the audience applauds, Lapis takes her bows, and everyone is grateful for the lessons learned and the wonderful experience. The End.

Notable:

1. The only Camp Pining Hearts characters whose faces have been shown on the TV show are Percy and Paulette. Pierre is mentioned frequently--since Peridot ships him with Percy--but we never see what he looks like. So it's pretty cool that the artists chose not to take artistic license with his appearance and drew depictions of him in shadow.

2. Peridot's analysis of why some fanfiction is better than other fanfiction--notably, that they fulfill the desires of the readers to see ships completed while still feeling like an episode of the show--was pretty spot on!

3. The fanfiction author--Lars--uses the handle xx54d4nd10ne1yxx. Even if it's private, I'm surprised Lars would use something that translates to "sad and lonely."

4. This graphic novel probably spends the most time outside Steven's perspective that I've ever seen; Steven is only marginally in the story, and we're used to seeing things from his perspective. This is quite a departure.

5. Peridot's app, "Find-A-Clod," was so unexpectedly funny to me that I almost choked on my sandwich.

6. As Dewey is still Mayor, Lars is not pink, and Sadie is still working at the Big Donut, we can assume this takes place before the episode "The Good Lars." That feels a little weird now, considering this book is fourth in the series of graphic novels and the one that came before it (The Ultimate Dough-Down) used Sadie's departure and Lars's space adventure as a plot point.

7. Lapis's negativity manifests in this comic as insecurity and frequent naysaying/pessimism. I thought it was really well done because it wasn't obnoxiously presented--as in, it felt genuine and appropriate for someone with her past and personality, not tacked on as her defining personality trait. You could really see her trying to have fun and not be the group's spoilsport, and you could tell she really felt those things.

8. Sadie says she's happy as a background character and that's kind of meta.

9. The shipping is strong in this thing. Peridot encouraging Lapis, the two of them solidifying their relationship, and the adorable compliments are so much fun. The Lapidot shippers have received their piece of heaven.

10. I couldn't get enough of Sadie obliquely insulting Lars when he acted like it was obvious he would take the "handsome guy" role if he didn't want to stay in the shadows. Sadie's like, "Oh, I vote for Steven."

11. Mr. Smiley and Greg are musicians for the play. I think that's cute, because we've seen Mr. Smiley as an out-of-work actor/R&B singer in the show. (And obviously Greg's an old rock star.)

12. New characters for Camp Pining Hearts have been invented: namely, Penelope and Parker, played by Connie and Onion, respectively.

13. Peridot is weirdly mean and disrespectful to Amethyst in this story? It seems to really come from nowhere. First she reluctantly lets Amethyst audition and grants her that she guesses she does have some talent after all, and then later when Amethyst comes in to impersonate a prop and "save the day," Peridot first voices her suspicion that Amethyst will not actually make anything better. It's weird; if you didn't watch the show, you'd think they had an ongoing rivalry or hated each other (or at least that Peridot disliked Amethyst). Hmm. 

14. The central conflict of the book's story is impossible to understand or interpret without a very good understanding of the show. The book does not explain what fusion is at all (though obviously in a stage play as a symbol for a fraught scene for an actor, it represents having to kiss on stage). It also gives absolutely no mention of why Lapis has trauma surrounding fusion. If someone were trying to read this without the show's context, they might think there was some kind of awkward past or bad feeling between Lapis and Steven, since she's acting reluctant to pretend to carry out a gesture of affection with him. And even though Lapis's past with Jasper is mentioned--by name!--on the back cover, Jasper is literally not mentioned in the book anywhere. As a fan I had no trouble understanding the source of her angst, but because of this pretty important detail, the book can't be enjoyed on its own without seeing several specific episodes of the show.

15. There are some fun Easter Eggs in the crowd scenes. Play attendees include Mr. Frowney, Mr. and Mrs. Barriga, Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, Mayor Dewey, Yellowtail and Vidalia, Nanefua and Kofi and Kiki Pizza, Barb, Mr. Fryman, and what look look some extras. All the known characters are family or the actors . . . except Mr. Frowney. Does that imply what I think it does about Mr. Frowney and Mr. Smiley? Hey, maybe they’re married now. :) 

16. Lapis's speech where she emphasizes that she consented to the scene was powerful. She WANTED to be okay with pretending to fuse, but in the end, she wasn't. There are so many real-life scenarios that parallel this--when someone tries to downplay their own feelings because they feel like they're the odd person out and they will wreck others' good time if they express how they feel. But, as said in the comic, nobody there wants you to do that, and you not enjoying yourself makes it a worse time for everyone else too. Your real friends won't make you pretend.

17. You probably never thought you’d see Garnet in a squirrel costume. You thought wrong.

18. These two are too precious for words when they hug at the end of the play.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[builder051]

Everything that kills me

A commission for an anonymous client.  Criminal Minds.

_______________________________________

take that money

 watch it burn

sink in the river 

the lessons I learned

everything that kills me 

makes me feel alive

The plane ride is uncomfortable.  Usually JJ has no problem reading or writing while in motion, letting her eyes and hand move gently with the turbulence, but today, the legal pad in her lap seems to be swimming.  The green lines fuzz over and disappear into a blur of the yellow paper, leaving her pen marks looking stark and dreary.  A subtle throb has developed behind her right eye and invited a streak of bright aura with it.  Some of her letters stand out in three dimensions while others seem to retract into the page.

“The local PD is still calling him a serial rapist,” Hotch says, flipping around his iPad to show the battered faces of four young women.  “But with one found dead at the scene and one failing to survive her injuries, we’re probably looking for a serial killer.  His time between victims is short, bordering on a spree.”  He glances around at the other members of the team.  “Time is really of the essence here.”

JJ nods and copies down the note.  She scans over what she has so far, as if reading it again will press the bit of information into her brain.  She only gets a moment, though, before her vision starts to cross again.  JJ rubs her eyes with her knuckle and brings the butt of the pen up to tap against her teeth.  

Come on, she tells herself.  Concentrate.

It’s been like this on and off for a while now, not that she wants to admit it.  If anyone asks, she’s fine.  No problems.  She’s good to work.  And truly, she is.  She has more good days than bad ones, sleepless nights notwithstanding.  The insomnia probably isn’t even related to post-traumatic stress.  JJ lies awake next to Will as often as she does when she’s away on a case.  The migraines are a different story, but not one she’s ready to tell anyone else about.  At least not yet.  

She blinks hard and starts over, re-reading the first line on the page.  Her forehead throbs before she finishes the first line of text..  

Four young women, raped and battered.  Patsy Michaelsen.  Age 22.  Found at the mouth of a bike trail with two punctured lungs, a miraculously non-lethal slash across her throat, and a used condom in her mouth.  The scar will show for the rest of her life; the raspy whisper of her voice is supposedly temporary.  The BAU has a file of notes from an interview with local law enforcement, but it’s none too enlightening.  A man.  A dark hood.  A knife.  JJ could have guessed the details.  She imagines the specter of the unsub leaning over her; large, sweaty hands finding her neck.  It makes a line of cold sweat run down her spine.

Then Lydia King, a 24-year-old grad student with a UK passport, dead and buried in a pile of leaves just off the road in front of a playground.  Kids found her on their way out to play.  Not that she was much more than a kid herself.  JJ examines Lydia’s photo, taking in her unblemished chubby face.  If she didn’t know better, JJ would have pegged her for an innocent 16.  She finds herself wondering if Lydia was a virgin.  Then her stomach knots as she feels guilty, so instead hopes the abuse was at least post-mortem.

Jersey Jones was found fewer than twelve hours later.  Technically it was the next day, but the accelerated timeline between victims two and three means a spree.  The unsub is unravelling.  Possibly getting sloppy.  He left semen in the vic this time.  He’d forgotten the condom, or disregarded it.  The 27-year-old Jersey looked closer to 30, another departure from the previous MO.  They won’t know for sure it’s the same perp until DNA results come in, but JJ has little doubt.  

Then there was Sarah McQueen, the one who got away.  She managed to pick her way across six lanes of traffic and into a 24-hour diner where the owner called for an ambulance.  The authorities thought she’d been hit by a car until she started vomiting up strips of latex.  Local PD put two and two together and called the feds within the hour.  Hotch accepted the case as soon as Penelope finished downloading the files, and the team was on the jet before Sarah was out of surgery.

“She’ll be in a delicate position.  Traumatized and probably having trouble expressing herself.  She has head injuries in addition to slashes on her torso and neck,” Hotch warns. 

“That’s another difference from the last three,” Emily points out.  “Are we sure she’s not number three?  Is this all the same guy?”

“Lexington isn’t that big of a city,” Spencer supplies.  “It’s unlikely to have more than one active at a time with that population density.  Killer or rapist.”

JJ nods absently in agreement, still scanning her notes. 

“Anything to add?” Hotch asks, looking at her. 

“Um.”  JJ struggles to focus for an uncomfortable moment.  

“You ok?”  This time, it’s Emily, glancing her way with a concerned expression.

“Yeah.  Of course.”  JJ clears her throat and swallows.  “Looks like he’s escalating.  Jersey might have been a victim of opportunity, but things didn’t go as expected, so he went after Sarah before he cooled off?”

“Sarah does have more defensive wounds,” Spencer says.  “And the blows to the head might have been an attempt to incapacitate her.”

JJ nods again, glad the spotlight is off her.  Focus, she tells herself again.  What is with you?  You’ve worked while feeling this bad before, no problem.

Hotch starts to lay out plans.  As soon as JJ’s instructed to visit the victims in the hospital with Spencer, she lets her mind wander.  She taps her pen again, absently counting the dull clicks of the plastic against her teeth.  

Five.  The number of Patsy’s broken ribs.  

Twelve.  The number of hours between vics two and three.  

Eighteen.  The age of Sarah McQueen. 

“Hey.” 

JJ jumps, instinctively bringing her hand to her chest.

Spencer appears at her shoulder.  “Sorry,” he says.  “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.”  JJ smiles and drops her defensive position.  “Want to compare notes?”  She looks back to her tight cursive spread over the first page of her legal pad.  As usual, Spencer’s written about five times as much, his untidy scrawl marching across several crumpled-edged sheets.

He quickly reads over her shoulder.  “No, I think you got everything important.”

“Good.”  JJ runs her fingers through her hair, embarrassed of being put on the spot, even though she and Spencer are close.  Her nails catch and pull on a few strands, making her wince.

“You ok?”

“Oh, yeah,”  JJ repeats.  For a second she thinks considers saying headache, but she thinks better of it.  All that’ll do is put another worry in her friend’s mind, one that he certainly doesn’t need.

Spencer pauses and squints slightly.  “Tell me if you’re not?”

“Of course.”

JJ’s glad when the pilot’s tinny prep for landing announcement sounds.  Spencer sits beside her, and she’s relieved to be taken off the spot.  He can’t look at her now without being awkward. 

The silence between them still feels odd, though, so she takes a bottle of water from her bag.  JJ makes to unscrew the cap, but finds her hands trembling too hard to hold it steady.  Luckily the jet hits a patch of turbulence to cover the movement, but she feels caught either way.  Her mouth is full of thick saliva, and she isn’t thirsty anymore.  JJ settles for picking distractedly at the label until the plane touches down on the runway.

The drive to the hospital is downright painful.  JJ’s knees ache as she pulls herself up into the front passenger seat of the shiny black SUV.  She’s not sure how she wound up riding shotgun, but she’s grateful for the bit of good fortune.  The stiff leather seat feels hard and lumpy behind her back, and the air conditioning all but makes her teeth chatter.  Clammy sweat gathers on her forehead, but she wipes it away before the local detective behind the wheel has the chance to notice.

“How far to the hospital?” JJ asks, swallowing hard and trying to smile.  Her stomach twists uncomfortably again as her mind flickers backward to other times she held pain between her teeth like this.

It’s nothing like those other times.  No one is hissing in your ear.  No one is holding you against your will.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes?” the detective says, his voice thick with an Appalachian accent.  “Not too far.”

Not long for you, but a long time for those girls.  A long time when you’re the one tied up.

JJ shakes her head to clear it, but all it does is reignite the throb.  “Good,” she says, though her voice sounds anything but..

Spencer asks a question from the backseat, taking control of the conversation.  JJ silently thanks him, though he probably has no idea.

Or does he?  Guilt joins the noxious brew churning in her gut.  They aren’t supposed to profile each other, but they’re not supposed to keep secrets, either.  However she puts it, JJ knows she’s in the wrong. 

But what’s wrong about hiding a headache? she asks herself.  That’s all it is.  Just a little headache.

The hospital smells of antiseptic.  One whiff practically makes JJ’s eyes burn.  Cold discomfort rises in her stomach again as she picks up something else, something like salt and copper hovering just under the pervasive curtain of alcohol-based sanitizer.

The local cop leads them through a maze of hallways to Sarah McQueen’s room.  Through the window JJ sees her on her back in the bed, a layer of bandages wrapped tightly around her head, giving the impression of a snowy white ski cap pulled over curtains of icy blonde hair.  It looks like a dye job to JJ, maybe even one of those at-home bleach kits.  She makes a mental note to check the details of the other girls’ hair and see if that’s part of the pattern.

You should already know, the voice in her head tells her.  You’re falling behind.

JJ sighs and shakes her head slightly, her own blonde waves moving on either side of her face.  Her eyes feel wet, and she blinks a few times to get a handle on herself.  A pool of tears threatens to loose itself down her cheek, so she quickly swipes her thumb across her lower lash line. 

When JJ lifts her head, Spencer’s staring at her.  He narrows his eyes to a concerned squint, but Sarah begins to cough, and he focuses his attention on her instead.

“Hi, Sarah,” JJ says.  She clears her throat, bursting what feels like a bubble of mucous blocking the top of her esophagus.  “My name is Jennifer, and this is Spencer.  We’re with the FBI.” 

The girl doesn’t even have her eyes open, but if the doctors and local PD are letting them question her, JJ assumes Sarah is up to the challenge. 

“Mmph.”  The girl makes a little groaning sound.  Her lashes flutter slightly, but other than that she remains motionless.

JJ swallows.  She can’t decide if she needs to cough again.  Her vocal cords feel tight, as if an invisible hand is pressing down on the front of her throat. 

Spencer picks up where she left off.  “Do you remember how somebody attacked you?  When you were—Were you walking last night?”

Sarah’s eyelids move again as she squints up at them.  A litany of facts and figures flick at the back of JJ’s mind.  Don’t walk to your car by yourself.  Don’t go out alone after dark.

Don’t give up information no matter how hard you’re questioned.

Don’t let men have their way with you.

Sarah starts to say something, her voice low and raspy.  Only a few sounds come out before she moves her head painfully to the side to hack and sputter into her shoulder.  A few flecks of blood spatter on the pale green fabric of her hospital gown.

JJ can taste the copper from across the room.  She swallows quickly, but cold sweat gathers on the back of her neck as her gag reflex moves jerkily up and down.  She practically feels thick fingers reaching for her shoulder, then her throat.

“It—“ JJ starts, desperate to shake the feeling.  “You’re not in trouble.” 

Too much spit froths under her tongue.  Of course Sarah’s not in trouble.  Why would she even think that?

Maybe you’re the one in trouble.

Guilt bubbles in her stomach again, combining with something hotter and angrier that sends sickly tendrils up into JJ’s chest.  She crosses her arms in front of her, hoping the pressure will at least give her a momentary hold. 

“Just, anything you remember can be helpful.”

Sarah opens her mouth.  It makes a wet sound, and somehow that’s the last straw for JJ.  Oh god, she prays silently, please no.  Please not now. 

Sourness rises in the back of her throat, and not the kind that can be swallowed back down.  Her jawline prickles as her gut presses upward into her chest.

“I’m—excuse me—“ JJ delicately touches her lips with the tips of her fingers, then turns on her heel and hurries from the room.  There has to be a bathroom, a trash can, even a mop bucket.  Something she can get to before she completely destroys her dignity. 

There are emesis basins stacked neatly on the counter at the nurse’s station.  JJ snags one and hurries down a deserted hallway.  She slows, her breathing ragged, as a heave makes her stomach contract and her shoulders jerk forward.  She holds the basin against her chest and backs into the wall, slowly sliding down into a crouch.  Stars flicker in the corners of JJ’s vision.  Nausea rises up in her, and sourness blossoms across her tongue as she vomits, bringing up bitter coffee and orange juice along with the remnants of last night’s dinner. 

The basin trembles in her grip, sending ripples through the disgusting fluid.  A drip runs to the end of JJ’s nose.  She sniffles, getting a good whiff of the odor of her own sick, and gags painfully again. 

“JJ?”

She hears her name from the end of the hall.  It sounds miles away, echoing and hazy, but it brings an icy jolt of panic over her anyway. 

“No,” she says in a choked whisper, but whoever it is doesn’t hear her. Either that or he doesn’t listen.  

Footsteps approach.  Spencer’s hand drops onto her shoulder, and JJ jumps, the basin sliding from its loose position in her arms and clattering to the floor.  She swears under her breath as the pool of vomit seeps into her shoes.

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to—again, you know,” Spencer stutters, grasping at her arm to keep her from falling.

“I—it’s—”  JJ can’t control the retch that bursts from her chest, and she throws up a third time, bile dribbling in strings hanging from her lower lip.  “Oh my god.  Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Spencer says quickly.  “It’s ok.  You’re alright.”  He pauses, cringing, to correct himself.  “Well, you’re not, but, it’s fine.  You have to breathe, JJ.”  He pats her on the back a few times, the soft percussive movement forcing air into her lungs. 

JJ’s throat burns with acid.  Her mouth waters, and she goes through the motions with a fourth, tiny heave.  She stands bent at the waist with her hands on her knees, her hair obscuring her burning face.  Spencer tries to help her upright, but JJ resists.  “No,” she murmurs.  “Just—just a second—”

“Of course.”  Spencer gently touches the back of her neck.  “I—you feel really warm,” he says.  “Do you think you have a fever?”

“No,” JJ says automatically.  She whips her hand behind her head to catch Spencer’s wrist.  His touch is nothing but soft, but she still can’t stand it.  “I’m sorry.”  She slowly begins to straighten, retracting her hand into her sleeve and dragging it across her lips. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes again.

“Don’t worry about it.”  Spencer’s eyes are huge and glassy with concern.  A soft wrinkle forms between his brows.  JJ wants to reach up to smooth it out, but that would require touching him, and she isn’t ready for that yet.  “You’re really sick.”

“I’m…”  JJ plans on saying fine, but she knows she can’t continue to lie.  “Yeah.”  It comes out as the tiniest whisper, quiet and crackling with the physical and emotional strain of pushing out the word.  “I guess.  Yeah.”

“Should I get a doctor?”  Spencer glances around.  “A nurse, maybe?”

JJ shakes her head.  They are in a hospital after all, but she can’t accept help.  She can’t let the team see her like this.  Fever be damned, she’s been through much worse.  She isn’t supposed to fall apart.

“No, I just—”  JJ pauses to swallow.  “Let me just—back to the hotel.  Or the police station.  If I just lie down for a minute, I’ll be fine.” 

Speaking leaves her fatigued and short of breath.  JJ feels herself sway on her feet, and Spencer gently catches her shoulders.

“Please don’t…” JJ murmurs.  She can’t stand his touch anymore; it’s as if his long fingers are leaving red-hot furrows that burn away her sweater and blister her delicate skin.  “I’m sorry.”

“Ok.”  Spencer slowly nods.  His face blurs, and JJ isn’t sure if it’s the vertigo finally taking over or a fresh round of tears.  “Should I call someone?  Hotch?”

“No—”

“Emily, then?”  It’s clear what he’s not saying.  JJ hates to admit it, but she would feel more comfortable with a woman.

“I—”  JJ wavers.  “I don’t know.  I guess.” 

“Alright.  Here.”  Spencer reaches for the disgusting basin she still has clutched to her chest.  “Are you, uh, done?”

“Yes, I think so.  Sorry, that’s…”  She shakes her head, reigniting the nauseating pain throbbing behind her eyes. 

“A natural process of the human body,” Spencer finishes.  “I won’t give you any more facts, I promise.”

JJ tries to smile, but her face feels heavy and frozen in a pained expression.  “Thanks.”

They drop the basin on an abandoned nurse’s cart and slip out a back door, then down the steps to the parking lot.  As soon as Spencer helps her into the car, he dials Emily and puts the phone on speaker.

“Prentiss,” the other woman answers on the first ring.  “Did you get anything from Sarah McQueen?”

“Oh.”  JJ’s practically forgotten about the girl.  Another swoop of guilt rises in her stomach, and she has to swallow hard to keep it from turning into something worse.  “Um…”

“You have any luck with the victims’ online presence?” Spencer asks, covering for her effortlessly.

“Actually, yes.  Garcia’s pulled what she can from all their accounts, and it looks like they were all into fitness.”

“What, same gym?”  The words sear on the way out of her throat, but JJ’s desperate to participate.

“No, more like trail running.”

“That’s really dangerous,” Spencer pipes up.  “Women going out alone after dark.  Probably wore their hair up.  Ponytails are easy to grab, making them more appealing targets…”  JJ sees the cogs turning in his head. 

“Could it really be that simple?” Emily asks.

“Talk to their friends.  See if you can recreate their running routes,” JJ suggests.  The last word sticks, and she covers her mouth before the resulting cough can turn into a gag.

“You ok?” Spencer reaches for her again, but retracts his hand quickly.

“JJ?”

“I’m fine, I just—”  Nausea rises in her, sending sweat trailing down from her temples.  “Oh god.”  JJ scrambles to open her door and hang her head out of the car.  She barely frees herself from her seatbelt when she throws up a weak stream of bile, almost all of it running sideways into her hair. 

“What was that?” JJ hears Emily ask, panic plain in her voice.

“I, um,” Spencer waffles.  “Actually why I was calling.  JJ’s sick, and I was wondering if you could meet us…  I don’t… I just…” he loses steam and begins to stutter.

“What’s wrong?  What happened?”

“An anxiety attack, maybe?” Spencer guesses.  He undoes his seatbelt and scrambles out and around the car.  “She’s vomiting, and I think she has a fever.”

“You’re still at the hospital, aren’t you?  Try urgent care—”

“No!” JJ says firmly.  She wipes her mouth with a shaking hand and uses the car door to push herself upright again.  “I just spooked.  I’m fine.”

“If you need a rest, you can take one,” Emily says.  “Hotch will let you—”

“Please don’t tell him.” JJ presses her fingertips into the corners of her eyes.  “I can’t let this get in the way.  What if someone else gets attacked tonight?”

“That’s not on you.”  Spencer shakes his head emphatically.  “We need you at your best.  Even just a little sleep will help.”

JJ sighs.  Guilt and sickness weigh heavily with the excess saliva running under her tongue.  He has a point.  She’s not at her best.  She hasn’t been at her best for weeks, and a nap isn’t going to make much of a difference.  “I’m sorry.”  JJ shakes her head.  She’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for, but she feels she needs to.  Badly. 

“JJ��”  Spencer looks from her to the phone.  “I know there’s something you’re not telling us.”

She shoots him a venomous look, and he quickly continues with, “You don’t have to say anything.  And I promise I won’t profile you any more.  But, just, you have to know we’re here for you.”

JJ swallows.  Her throat feels tight, and she isn’t sure if it’s more or less comfortable than it was before. 

“That’s,” she rasps, “I mean, thank you.”  She wants to explain more, but at the same time, she’s glad to remain silent.  “I will.  Sometime.”  A hiccup forces its way up, and she covers her mouth.  “Sorry.”

“Forget the police station, ok?” Emily says.  “I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“Don’t—” JJ starts

“No, I’ll have Garcia load up some files.  I’ll look at them while you rest.  Then maybe we can put our heads together once you’re feeling a little better.

“I…”  JJ knows she can’t protest.  “Thank you.  You’re… Just, thank you.”

“You’re just welcome,” Spencer says at the same moment Emily says, “Of course.”

Spencer drives back to the hotel.  He appears to do his best to move the car smoothly, only skidding through one dangerously short yellow light.  “Ok, here we are,” he says after a few minutes of silence.

Thank god, JJ thinks.  She opens her door with trembling fingers, pausing to breathe through a queasy hiccup before attempting to exit the vehicle.

“Let me help you--”  Spencer runs around the back of the car and meets her on the passenger side.

“No!” JJ squeals before she can stop herself.  “I--I’m sorry.”  She covers her mouth with one hand and holds the other up to stop him.  “I just--I can’t.”

“That’s alright.”  Spencer stops in his tracks and holds the car door open instead.  “I won’t touch you.  Is it fever aches?”

The kid has to know that isn’t it.  He’s offering you an out, JJ thinks.  Take it.

“Um.  Yes,” she says with more formality than she means.  She wraps her arms around her chest as she stands up, a shiver wracking her thin frame.  

“Here.”  Spencer holds his hand an inch or so off the back of her shoulder, ready to catch her should she fall.  “We have rooms on the ground floor this time.  No elevator ride.”  He offers a wan smile.

“Good,” JJ manages.

They walk to the end of the hall.  Spencer taps on the last door in the row, and Emily opens the door.  “Oh, my god,” she says upon seeing them.  Then, “I’m sorry.  That’s--you look--”

“Dead?” JJ suggests with a dark smile.  It’s so inappropriate that she wonders if she’s getting close to delirium.

“Well, that’s not what I was going to say, but now that you mention it…”  Emily trails off, shaking her head.  “Get in here and take your shoes off.”  She points to JJ’s vomit-covered loafers.  

“Looks like you’ve got it from here,” Spencer says.  He lifts his hand in thanks to Emily, then gives JJ a hard stare.  “Take care of yourself, ok?  We’re all here for you to lean on.”

“Yes, exactly,” Emily echoes.  She looks to Spencer.  “Hotch wanted you back at the police station.”

Spencer nods.  “Ok.  See you later?  Hope you feel better, JJ.”

“Thanks,” JJ whispers.  

Now that she’s in a room where she can relax, her energy seems to be draining out of her along with her guard.  She divests herself of her shoes and gingerly moves toward one of the beds.  Emily helps her sit, then slips into the bathroom to run a washcloth under the tap.  

“Did you bring files from the station?” JJ asks.  “I thought Penelope was putting some on a laptop for us.”

“Yes,” Emily answers.  “But for me.  You need to rest.”

“I--”  JJ starts, but her train of thought leaves her as a wave of exhaustion crushes over her.  Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes as she feels tired and frightened and thankful all at once.  

“Hey.”  Emily sits on the edge of the bed and begins to carefully sponge JJ’s face.  “It’s ok, you know?  We all have our days when we need a little help.”

“Hm.”  JJ nods and presses her lips together.  “Yeah,” she whispers.  “Thank you.”  

[kristatotheworld]

What I’ve Learned on My Exchange

I’ve learned so so much here-- so much about me, about others, about the world, about life. I’ve mentioned a few times how much I’ve changed on this exchange, but I’ve never gone into details on the things I’ve learned. I could probably write an entire novel filled with all of the things I’ve learned. But, for today I think I’ll just stick to the more important things. 

By the way, these are in no certain order.

1. How to go out and do things alone: This is something I feel like a lot of people struggle with. Who wants to go out to eat alone? Who wants to sit in a cafe alone? Well, me. Before coming here though, I was definitely like that. I didn’t wanna go anywhere alone, and there was no way I would ever enjoy it. In fact, I would pretty much avoid doing anything alone in public if I could. So how did I come to enjoy doing things alone in public, you ask? (Or maybe you don’t care, but I’m gonna tell you anyways). I realized that nobody cares if I’m alone, so I shouldn’t either. I realized that being confident and comfortable with myself enough to go out alone and enjoy it doesn’t make me a loser, but radiates BDE (uhhh.. superiority). Once I overcame the anxiety that held me back, I realized spending time alone and having fun is quite therapeutic. I go to cafes alone, to karaoke alone, shopping alone, travelling alone-- really anything that I want to do. 

2.  No shame: This one is like a mindset. I say this quite often. It kind of goes hand in hand with the last one. It’s about not caring about what other people might think, realizing that most people don’t care and aren’t judging you, and not caring even if they are. I realized that, in a lot of cases, the only person judging me was myself. I also realized that people don’t care about what I’m doing as much as I make them do in my head. Things like not wearing makeup when I went out used to give me anxiety. I wish I could tell my past self, “Krista, nobody but you cares if you’re wearing makeup or not. Nobody but you cares about that pimple. The only one judging you is you.” And for the very  very small amount of [butt]holes that would judge me, or anyone for something like that-- well, screw them. They’ve got more problems with themself than with the people they’re judging. The lesson here is: do what you want (if it’s legal, of course)-- no shame. ;)

3. Get those steps in: I say this multiple times everyday. It promotes physical activity and being green, so only positives there. I’m not exactly sure when my friends and I made this a thing, but I know we pretty much live by it now. Here, I walk pretty much everywhere that I can. I get quite a few steps in on a normal day. My iphone tells me I walked 11,635 (7.2 km, or 4.47 mi) steps yesterday, but my highest amount in a day in the past few weeks was 21,194 (14.7 km, or 9.13 mi). Basically, I get those steps in whenever I can. I take the stairs instead of the escalator, I will refuse a ride if I can walk (unless I’m like, sick or dying or something), and when I have time, I take the stairs to my apartment instead of the elevator. (I live on the 18th floor. It takes me approximately 2 minutes going down if I run, and way longer going up-- so if I’m in a hurry, I’ll probably take the elevator). 

4. How to say no/ stand up for myself: I’ve always been quite a passive person (in almost all situations). It was very hard for me to tell people no. I often got myself into stressful situations because of this. Here, I’ve definitely learned that I can say no if I don’t want to do something, and that doesn’t automatically make me a terrible person. That being said, I will still do just about anything (emphasis on just about) for anyone because I like to be nice, and helping people makes me happy. I’ve also learned how to stand up for myself. If someone says something to me or about me that I don’t like, I’ll tell them. I’m not afraid of confrontation anymore.

5. How to leave my comfort zone: This is something anyone on an exchange has to be able to do. In the states, I did have a pretty large comfort zone, but leaving it was not something I liked to do. After all, who likes to be uncomfortable? (Me) Of course, when I say uncomfortable, I mean a healthy type of discomfort, a type that you can (and should) overcome. Not a weird, scary type of discomfort that’s probably a warning sign that something isn’t right. If a stranger asks you to get in their car because they have candy, yeah, you definitely should be uncomfortable. And you definitely should NOT get in the car. Now that I’ve made that clear, I can move on to what I do mean. I have to speak a language I’m not confident every day. Of course, sometimes it’s embarrassing, and sometimes it makes me uncomfortable. But I leave my comfort zone. Something I’m particularly uncomfortable with is being naked in front of people (I feel like that’s pretty rational). Korean women, however, don’t seem to relate-- a cultural thing. And that’s okay. I’ve seen a lot of naked Korean ladies (in locker rooms and things like that-- not just walking around). Yeah, I’m not really uncomfortable with changing clothes in front of other girls anymore. 

6. I am capable with so much more than I thought: There’s this saying like: “You can do anything you set your mind to.” While anything is a bit of a broad category, it’s true. (Maybe you want to become a bird, which is kind of impossible, but who knows, maybe if you set your mind to it, it’ll happen). If someone tells you you can’t do something, do it anyways and take pictures. If you tell yourself that you can’t do something, do it anyways and realize that you should never let self-doubt hold you back. If I really want to do something, and I’m willing to work hard for it, I will make it happen. Instead of telling myself that it’s too hard, I tell myself that I’m willing to put in the work to make it happen. 

7. How to go with the flow: There’s this thing in Korea that I like to call 가자 (pronounced ga-ja) culture. 가자 means let’s go. Basically, my Korean parents had a tendency to not tell me when there was a plan, and just come to my room and say “가자”. It was quite stressful. I realized that this is a cultural thing. When your parents say 가자, well you just 가자 then. At first this was quite stressful. Why couldn’t they just tell me like, maybe 2 hours in advance? Why couldn’t they ever give me any details? But, now I’m pretty okay with 가자 culture (most of the time-- sometimes the lack of communication and details given still gets on my nerves, but I am a very structured person). I’ve learned to just roll with it, or to go with the flow. I go for what I thought was a  short car ride and end up at a random river 30 minutes away with ducks aggressively hissing at me? Okay, cool. (Yes, this happened to me). 

8. How to be healthy: I’ve learned a bit of healthiness here. I’ve become physically and mentally healthier here. I lost some kilos, and became less anxious. I’ve learned how to control myself-- my host parents just bought a whole bunch of snacks and bread? Great, I’ll take a banana. I’ve come to crave fruits, vegetables, and healthy foods a lot more than I crave things like ice cream or chocolate. But, that doesn’t mean I never eat those things. It’s about balance. It’s about the mindset. I learned that I shouldn’t constantly deprive myself of all “bad” foods because I want to lose weight. Rather, I should make a conscious decision to eat healthier because I want to be healthier, and I will naturally lose fat (not weight!! muscle weighs more than fat! the number on the scale means wayyy less than they way your body looks, or the way you feel). I’m also extremely physically active here, with all the walking, and muay thai or crossfit every week day. I’ve also learned how to take better care of myself, self-forgiveness, and self-validation. These are important for a healthy mindset. My body needs sleep, food, and water. I have to make sure I give my body those things so that my body and my mind feel better. Sometimes, I lost a bit of my self control, and I ate a lot of sweets or bread because I was feeling bad, but the next day I would forgive myself and try again instead of feeling guilty about it. Self-validation is also very important. My emotions and feelings are valid. I am valid. I used to invalidate the way I was feeling a lot. But, I’ve realized that all emotions are okay and valid. The first step in dealing with emotions is to acknowledge that they are valid. I’ve also learned to take breaks if I really need one. If I’m feeling exhausted and drained, there’s probably a reason. 

9. A friend can be made anywhere: Being on an exchange, I have friends from all over the world. I’ve also made friends in so many places. You never know who you’re going to meet in the place you’re at. Maybe someone you’ll meet will become someone very important to you. 

10. There is so much love in the world: There was a time in which I could only see that bad in the world. I was really depressed and pessimistic. When I came out of that, I realized I never wanted to think that way again. Sure, there’s bad in the world. That can’t and shouldn’t be ignored. But there’s also so much good and beauty in the world. A whole lot more good than bad. I love people, and I love the world. 

11. How to do things for myself and not for others: I like dressing up, taking care of my skin, wearing makeup, and not wearing makeup. But I’ve learned to do those things for myself, and not because I’m concerned with how other people are thinking about me. I do those things to feel more confident with myself, not because I feel like I should. I’ve felt ashamed for wearing makeup, and for not wearing makeup before-- because I was so concerned with how others saw me. Now, I’ll do my makeup if I feel like it. 

12. I hate alcohol: I’m really glad I learned this on my exchange. There are some experiences that people just need to have. My experiences with alcohol are something that I needed. I learned that alcohol isn’t as great as it sounds. It tastes disgusting. I can have so much more fun without it. This is for me: I’m not saying this applies to everyone. But for me, I just really really don’t like alcohol. I have no reason to drink it. There are plenty of things that taste way better than alcohol. I’m not demonizing alcohol, either. But, now I know. I’ve had my experience with alcohol, and I’ve learned that I don’t care for it (or the morning after). I’m perfectly fine with some apple juice-- or maybe some milk tea. Those are nice drinks.

13. How to see the good in every day: In America, sometime it felt like every day was the exact same, only a little different. Like okay, different things happened maybe, but in the end it was just the same. Here, I’ve learned how to see the difference in every day, how to notice every good thing that happens every day. I learned this through journaling. I’ve journaled my entire exchange. I journal pretty much every day in detail. Being able to spot the details in every day has made me appreciate them much more. 

14. I have something in common with so many more people than I thought: I feel like a lot of the time, it’s easier to see the differences between us and others than it is to see the similarities. I realized that I can relate with so many people-- people different from me in so many ways-- and find something in common with them. 

15. Loneliness is okay: Loneliness isn’t always as bad as it’s made out to be. And sometimes, it can be a good thing. Loneliness doesn’t last forever. I’ve learned how to feel more comfortable with myself, how to improve myself, and how to get to know more about myself through loneliness. Sometimes we’re lonely because we need to learn how to be comfortable with ourselves before we can be comfortable with others. Sometimes we’re lonely because we need to fix problems we have with ourselves before we can put that attention into others. And I’ve learned that loneliness is more of a feeling than an actuality for me. I’m not ever really alone. But I feel alone sometimes. In those times, it’s usually because of an inner problem than an outer problem. My loneliness is time for me to put my attention on helping myself. 

16. How to love myself: Self love is very important. Every number before this, every thing I’ve learned here and before has contributed to my journey of learning to love myself. When I learned how to love myself, it felt like the world became a different place. But it didn’t. It was just me that changed. Self love changed so many things for me. It’s a real journey. I had ups and downs. And self love doesn’t mean I feel amazing about myself 100% of the time. It means I treat myself like I love myself. Of course there are times when I still feel a bit insecure, but those times don’t consume me like they used to. I’ve learned how to respect myself like I love myself. My self talk is positive. I help myself when I need it. I take care of myself. 

That’s all for this post! I hope you enjoyed it :) As always, if you have any questions, my dms are open. 

Quick note: I only have 2 more months left in Korea. That’s so crazy. Time goes way too fast. I’m not ready to say goodbye anytime soon. This exchange has been so incredible and life changing.  I want to make these last 2 months amazing, and I know I will. 

[eternityunicorn]

Love is Madness: Part Three

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Eventual Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: AU of an AU: Elijah and Eternity had been lovers centuries ago, in a brief but profound love affair that ended terribly when Eternity had betrayed Elijah by choosing duty over the heart and nearly killing him along with his siblings. Now in present day, they find themselves forced together by dire circumstances that have intertwined their paths once more, but what will become of them when it becomes clear that their love for each other is still as profound now as it had been all those centuries ago?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

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Weeks went by after the awkward meeting with Madame LaRue. Since then, Elijah found himself at the Mikaelson compound more often than he needed to be. Marcel had wanted him to continue to help build a new vampire community across the river from the French Quarter and he did his best to focus upon that task, as he was just as passionate about it. 

However, the Original was simply distracted at all times, called to the compound every waking moment by some unseen force. He wanted to say it was his deep concern for his little niece only that drew him back there, but he’d be fooling himself if he dared to believe that. 

Elijah knew exactly why he was being drawn to his family’s ancestral home. 

Eternity’s face haunted him in such a way he hadn’t experienced in over a century and a half, since they had parted ways. He could see her lovely rounded face, childlike and innocent. He could smell the sweet earthiness of her skin, taste the lusciousness of her mouth, even after all the time that had past. It was as if it had been yesterday since he had last held her in his arms or kissed her lips.

These sensations are just as strong in the current time as they had been back then, all those years ago. It was enough to drive the Original to madness. Even distracting himself with Gia’s loveliness wasn’t enough to starve off this strange pull toward the immortal beauty who frequented his thoughts often.

The madness was made worse by the fact that every time Elijah came around, his younger brother Kol was always with Eternity. At all times it seemed, he sat or stood close to her, had his arm around her or had his fingers laced with hers; he kissed her cheek or the back of her hand often. Elijah’s younger brother would stare at her fondly, flirt shamelessly, and all these gestures the ethereal woman accepted or reciprocated in kind.

Elijah did his damnedest to not let these sights get to him. Their time together was done, he thought to himself. It had been for many years - too many to still feel so...attached. He tried to keep her betrayal in the forefront of his mind, as a way to keep himself from pining for the shimmering woman. If he only remembered the threat she had posed to his brothers, then his lingering feelings for her would wither. 

At least, that was the lie he chanted like a mantra in his mind and it worked...sort of.

One afternoon, Elijah had come to the compound to speak with Niklaus about the unruly crowd witches that were causing problems in their city. He had gone up and headed toward his hybrid brother’s bedroom, where he was sure he’d find him playing with Hope or painting. On the way there, he came across Kol and Eternity in the common room, talking amongst themselves. 

He was going to walk on by without pause, but then he caught his younger brother come to stand right in front of the shining woman out of the corner of his eye. Unable to help his curiosity, he hid in the shadows just outside of the doorway and listened as Kol softly said to Eternity, “I have loved you since I met you. You are a fascinating creature, darling, but you have always only had eyes for my brother; the suave, well-dressed, Noble Elijah.”

Elijah’s brother cupped her face in his hands as he stared adoringly at her as he murmured, “Yet, perhaps now, it is my turn to freely love you and have your love in return.”

Then Kol kissed Eternity, and it was here that Elijah sped away, unable to watch any further. His heart felt constricted as the sight of his brother’s lips upon hers chased after him down the hall. He found it difficult to breathe, though he knew there wasn’t supposed to be any reason for it. He was supposed to be over the ethereal beauty. In fact, he was supposed to despise her for her attempted extinguishing of his brothers’ lives. 

Elijah knew he should feel anything for her, let alone feel jealous or wounded for her decision to be with Kol. For one thing, the goddess wasn’t his anymore; he hadn’t any claim upon her, and so she was free to love whomever she chose, just as he had moved on from her. 

For another, he might not despise her as he should, but he was still anger about her betrayal all those years ago. It had broken his heart completely, when she had chosen her duty of him and his family that she had cared so much about. Kol might have forgiven her, and Niklaus as well, to some extent, but he wasn’t quite ready to forgive her. He simply couldn’t take it if he did and then she betrayed him again.

Yet, he couldn’t deny the strong feelings he had for Eternity, despite everything. They followed him wherever he went, no matter how he tried to escape them.

And so, from then on he swore to avoid his brother and Eternity at all costs, as to not let himself get swept away by the attachments he had found he retained. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Not now. Not this time.

However, it seemed the torment was to carry on, to test his will. One day, soon after his visit to the compound, Elijah was busy continuing his training of Gia in martial arts at Marcel’s loft apartment, their chosen training grounds. He had made the decision to intensify the baby vampire’s instruction after the rogue witch attack upon Marcel and his new vampire community the other day when Gia had texted him with the request for his presence across the river. 

It had been extremely dangerous a situation, as the enemy had been strong, and his lady love hadn’t been as prepared as she should have been during battle. He found he had to protect her more than he should have. So, there Elijah was carrying on teaching all he knew of fighting to the dark beauty, if only to ensure she could keep herself safe. 

It was in the middle of this latest educational session, when Kol showed up with Eternity in tow. The younger Mikaelson looked absolutely amused as he entered, while Eternity’s expression was unreadable. 

“What are you doing here, Kol?” Elijah asked, pausing in his instruction of Gia to acknowledge the newcomers.

His brother shrugged as he came in, “I was actually looking for Marcel. I have the information he was seeking, in regards to those rogue witches, whom attacked the other night. Yet, it seems I’ve stumbled into something more interesting.” 

The older Original rolled his eyes and then questioned Eternity, whom stood close to Kol - too close for his liking, “And you? Are you not supposed to be guarding my niece?”

The immortal queen gave him a pointed look, not at all appreciating the curt way he spoke to her. “You know better,” she said in that even, soft-spoken voice of hers. “I do not need to be in constant presence in order to protect others. I have a guard around young Hope that will keep her from harm, while I am away.”

“I invited E along,” Kol chimed in. “I thought she might like a nice tour of the Quarter. It was she who helped me get the information about the rogue witches actually.” He grinned at Eternity adoringly, taking her hand in his, “It is quite fortunate that she has returned to us, brother. Our enemies won’t be able to hide from us.” The younger Original lifted her hand and kissed the back of it charmingly.

Eternity smiled softly at Kol in return, making Elijah’s blood boil. He wanted to strike his brother for daring to touch her, despite how irrational the impulse was. 

Though, he did well to hide his darker desires. He masked them beneath his usual cool and collected exterior masterfully. He smiled tightly, as he said, “Well, Marcel is currently outside with the other newer vampires. Perhaps you should head out there to fetch him, Kol.”

“Ah, I’m actually not in that much of a hurry,” his little brother said, as he moved away from the queen and plopped down in one of Marcel’s armchairs. “Please, brother, proceed with your lessons. It’s always entertaining to watch you instruct another.”

Just as Elijah was going to insist he leave, Eternity stared at the female vampire curiously before she floated across the room to come and stand before Gia, whom had stood by in quiet annoyance at the interruption. The baby vampire gazed at the immortal woman with a bit of attitude mixed with a curiosity of her own, as the latter looked upon her with an all knowing look. 

“You are learning to fight,” the queen observed slowly, as if reading the other woman. “Yet, you struggle with it, because you simply do not have a strong fighting spirit, at least not in the supernatural sense, the one that matters. You’re too gentle for this vampire life, yet you chose it for yourself anyway. You are trying to find acceptance, purpose, a family in the vampire community. All things that eluded you as a human. So you have chosen to become a killer, yet you are not one - not at heart anyway.”

Gia shifted uncomfortably under Eternity’s prying examination of her mind. She licked her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, as if that would block the ethereal woman from seeing into her inner self. “Yeah? What’s your point?” She responded tersely, her voice tight with her discomfort.

“You are going end up dead, my dear, and no amount of Elijah’s tutelage is going to save you,” replied Eternity, not to be cruel, but to state a simple fact based on what she could see in her. 

Elijah knew what the regal woman said was true; though he hated to admit it. There was always a hesitation in Gia’s movements, a lack of heart in her fighting prowess. He tried to correct her, he tried to encourage, he even tried using musical terminology and concepts to guide her with some success, but it seemed she remained reluctant. But he believed in Gia, believed she could succeed, so he kept at it, kept trying.

“Gia is stronger than you know, and more capable too,” he came to the young vampire’s defense. “I have faith in her.” He smiled at the dark beauty and she gave a small, fond one in return.

“Oi! You’re just saying that because you’re sleeping with the baby vamp and you have to,” Kol chortled with a roll of his eyes. “You’re letting your other brain keep you from speaking the truth, brother. Your paramour is going to get herself killed one of these days since she doesn’t have what it takes for this violent, kill or be killed lifestyle.”

Eternity whirled on him before Elijah could retort with warning in her voice as she shouted, “Kol! Please!”

The younger Original shrugged with a scoff, “What? We all know it’s true.”

The queen turned back to Gia apologetically for Kol’s bluntness. “Forgive my crude friend,” she said with a small friendly smile, “and forgive me, if I come across as cruel. I do not say these things to be so.”

“No, no, of course,” the dark beauty replied quickly, with a bit of attitude.

 “A bit of advice, simply let your baser instincts as a vampire guide you,” Eternity told her. “Let that dark beast inside lead whenever you find yourself in battle. It will serve you well, young one.”

Gia shifted on her feet and looked away as she mumbled, “Thanks for the advice.”

The white-haired woman gave her a curt nod, before she turned to Elijah and spoke brusquely to him, “Your brother, Niklaus, has been trying to get ahold of you to no avail it seems, so he wanted me to pass along a message unto you. He needs you to join him at the compound. He said something about werewolves and witches, but wouldn’t give me details since, and I quote, my ‘place is to protect Hope and nothing more. Everything else is family business.’ Apparently, he doesn’t want my council or aid, despite the fact that I have the power to make all his troubles go away without anyone getting hurt or killed.” She shrugged, and it was obvious to him that she felt insulted by the hybrid’s dismissal of her.

“Is that why you’re out helping Kol?” He couldn’t help but grin at her knowingly. “Sticking it to the man, as they say?”

She cheekily smiled in return, “Aye.” Then she corrected herself, “Well, actually that, and simply because your brother asked me to join him here.”

Eternity turned and flashed a smile at Kol, beckoning him to her side with an outstretched hand. Elijah’s brother was out of the armchair and over to where they all stood together. He took her hand and laced their fingers together as he did.

Elijah watched their small display of affection with irritation that he hid beneath his cool and collected mask, something he found he was doing at an ever increasing rate. Still, he shoved his hand into his pants pockets to hide his clenching fists and couldn’t stop himself from narrowing his eyes at them.

“Well, I shall be returning to the compound then,” he said quickly. He looked at Gia with a fondness that wasn’t entirely genuine, “Come with me?”

She smiled in return, seemingly unaware of his partial falseness, and nodded, “Sure.”

With that, Elijah collected his suit jacket and then returned to Gia’s side, taking her hand in his and laying a brief kiss to the back of it. He had done it just to see Eternity’s reaction, but she remained blank-faced, watching indifferently, making it so he was unable to read her. 

Frustrated and disappointed, he left the loft with his unaware lady love in tow, leaving the ethereal beauty to his brother.

“She seems nice,” Gia said as they went, but it fell on deaf ears.

Elijah was simply too caught up in his own chaotic thoughts to hear her, lost in the madness that was his lingering love for the white-haired beauty whom had stolen his heart all those years ago and had yet to give it back to him, it seemed.

To Be Continued....

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