#like they finally get past the barrier and its the same everywhere else. like the entire earth is already taken.sighh....

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN (TO GET SPLATTERED) OOH MYSTERY! PANIC! DRAMA! EMOTIONS!! LOTS N LOTS OF MEAT, SCARES, AND DICK-OUT FUN! BLOOD IN THE BAYOU HAS GOT IT ALL BABY!!!

blood in the bayou would make SUUUCh a great campy horror movie, its real in my heart, so real.....

[savorysatori]

— 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍. ✗

paring : ushijima x f!reader x tendou.

usage of ‘she/her’ pronouns.

— synopsis : sex with your boyfriend, ushi, was always the same- sometimes even including kinks that you both were fond of, just the usual. yet, what happens when he develops a certain kink to watch his dearest friend fuck you?

content warning: dumbification, non-con, choking, filming, degradation/praise, mentions of anal, blindfolded, oral, use of pet names, sir kink, breast play, biting, dark content.

“Sluts always fall to their knees at the sight of my fingers, dear, what’s so special about you?”

It was a fantasy. That’s all, nothing else. All he did was imagine you withering underneath the touch of his friend’s grasp. It was nothing more, yet, why did he want to make it a reality?

Every glance and stare you gave him, your eyes lingering over the soiled up band-aid’s around his fingers, your thighs clenching together. Ushijima didn't understand. He only observed, watching you closely and the way you interacted with his dear friend. Watching when you purposely slid closer to him during a conversation, all in front of ushi’s eyes. Almost like you didn’t care if he was there.

Yet, here you were laying on his comforter with thin lace draped over the dewy skin of your thighs; nail marks from his rough hands. Giggles leaving your throat like you weren't just eyeing Tendou from his previous practice. It made him mad. Did you completely forget about your seductive gazes going towards Tendou with no shame?

Or were you playing dumb?

“Toshi! Toshi! That t-tickles, ah!”

His calloused palms stopped from running along the curve of your hip, coming to a pause to stare at you, uneasiness settling inside your stomach.

“Babe?-”

“Let’s play a game.” His tone was short & sharp, leaving you no room to question his sudden change of demeanor. You were used to his mood swings but, something like this didn't make you feel good. “I want to try something new, you don't mind, right?”

You shook your head no, of course, you always let your boyfriend explore new kinks because you knew he was curious. Yet, you wish you could go back and change your mind.

The tightness of the material from the ragged towel dug into the side of your cheek, easing a hiss from you. The way the rigid binds locked your arms tightly together - made a new form of excitement fill you up.

Ushijima’s palm was placed on your cheek, running the pads of his thumb against your cheek. You instantly nuzzled against it, sighing in contentment at his soft touch.

“You’ll be a good girl for me right?”

“Yes, of course.” Disobeying him wasn’t a option, you learned to always be careful what you say, especially around Ushijima.

Your shirt was long forgotten. Discarded on the tile floor, along with your bra. Harsh lips were encircled around your nipple, suckling the sensitive flesh. Grazing his teeth against your erect bud, a small hiss left your lips. He’d pull off of it, glistening salvia dripping from both swollen nipples. You’d squirm as he kneaded your soft breast; squeezing it gently and flicking your nipple occasionally to get a rile out of you.

“Ah, u-ushi..!” your nerves were going haywire, brain fuzzy and hard to understand. He’d plop a sweet kiss on your lips, savoring the taste of your chapstick. As he places both of his hands on your thighs, each finger gripping the supple flesh and spreading your legs apart; gawking in awe at your sweet cunt already drooling onto the satin sheets. Before he could finally soothe away the ache between your thighs, a voice speaks up.

“My Turn.”

The voice was low and breathy, if you leaned closer it would also sound child-like. It didn't take long for you to recognize the voice. You twisted around in the binds, squirming to try and get them off of you.

“At least let me prep her first.” nothing was coming to you, you couldn't decipher what was happening. Nothing was clicking in your brain, ‘what was happening right now?’

“Prep? You've had her for so long, I’m sure she's used to your cock now, if so - she’ll be used to mine as well.”

Tendou.

Ushijima’s hands were dusted off your thighs as he sat back, watching everything unfold.

Tendou inched closer to you, peering down at your obvious confused state, eyes creased together with a frown stretched onto your lips, how cute. He’d squeeze both your cheeks together, leaning down to whisper in a honey-like voice,

“I don’t tolerate bad girls kitten, don’t mess this up for yourself, yeah?” His words were sharp, nothing like you’ve heard before. He papped your left cheek and stood up, pleased to see you nod obediently, becoming completely powerless to him with just setting authority. “She’s a good one Toshi, make sure to keep her because if you don't, I'll just snatch her up!”

Ushi grunted as Tendou smirked, even more, turning his attention back to you and swiping a finger over your lips. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

Whatever clothes were on him were long gone, tossed onto the floor. His fingers digging into your scalp, gripping it tightly as you warm throat hugged his cock. Balls slapping against the under of your chin, spit spluttering everywhere. It was a lewd sight.

“Hey, ushi, you don’t mind if I video her do you?” He’d ask, already pulling out his phone. “Just a lil’ something for later alright sweetheart, hm.”

The way that nickname rolled of his tongue only made you want to please him more, show him how could ease all his problems away with just some oral. Your head moved on its own, your tongue rolling over the thick width of his cock head. His gaze lust-lidded, glossed over with bliss. Gathering all of your loose strands of hair in a ponytail, he’d buck his hips forward and keep the camera trained on your messy face coated in pre-cum.

“F-Fuck- keep going sweetheart, you’re doing so good for a well-trained slut.”

Tendou kept your head in place, catching everything on film as he dumps his thick cum in your mouth, covering your mouth in his semen.

“God damn— little slut knows how to swallow like a pro, aye?”

He pulled out of your mouth, his once hard cock softening to its normal state. Droplets of cum dripped from your mouth as you eagerly swallowed it up, your mouth only watering for more of his cum, for more of his cock. A whine rippled from your lips. You were so hopeless, so desperate, you needed him. Badly.

“Oh? Are ya’ horny for me? Yer’ getting off on your boyfriend’s best friend cock? You’re adorable, baby.” He held the back of your head tight, smearing the rest of his dripping cum onto your swollen lips. “Such a good girl.”

“hngh- Tendou..” your scraped knees dug into the mattress, face pushed against the sheets. You were so pretty, cunt already glistening with shiny arousal and Tendou didn't have to lift one finger, he thought you were so cute.

Ushijima would admit, and he would tell you later — you looked adorable, defenseless under Tendou. Hands restrained with eyes covered, you were weak to his gaze and his hands. Nothing could stop him from doing anything to you, nobody could step in. Not even ushi.

His red hair prickled against your cheek, his hands circling your throat and applying pressure to it slightly. “Yer’ so pretty, sweetheart, all nice and warm f’me back here.” He’d angle your head up to face the camera, the flash of light shining on your messy face. The blindfold came undone around your face and slipped off your eyes, revealing the sparkle of lust gleaming in them.

“T-Tendou, hngh.. please- I want it, so badly.” you were in need for the feeling of his cock inside you, dragging along your silky walls, easing his cock head in and out of you. You wanted it all.

“Sorry sweetheart, I only give cock to good sluts who address me as ‘sir’ anything else, and I see you as nothing but filthy.”

Sir?

The moment you parted your lips, you blurted out the word immediately.

“S-Sir! please, f-fuck—“

A cruel smile sprawled onto Tendou’s face, papping your cheek- he'd push away your thighs to lean closer, pressing asweet kiss to your cunt. His eyes holding a sadistic glint. “Maybe I should fuck this cute hole right here, just to tease ya’ and make you completely melt under me.” He’d coo, his finger pressing against your asshole. You'd twitch and nod your head. You would accept anything from him at this moment, anything to feel the veins of his cock.

You were already wet, nice, and dripping to which he didn't have to prep you. He’d switch you to where you were in a mating position, knees pressed to your chest and face peering up at him, ready to take anything he was going to give. When he sat up, your eyes traveled down to his semi-hard cock, staring in astonishment. The tip is red and bulging, veins pumping through the base — tiny drops of pre-cum leaking from the front.

“Ah, I already know you’ll welcome my cock well, pretty baby.”

Tendou leaned down eye-level, keeping contact with you as he pushed his cock into you, his eyebrows knitting together when your warmth sucked him in nice and tight. You bit your lip, eyes watering up at his size, you wondered how you even took him in.

“W-Wait- too fast.. gentle, please.” Your voice was croaky through whines, eyes twitching with tears when he sunk further into the depths of your cunt.

“Shh, you’ll like it. Just wait, baby.”

With that, he’d thrust into you, forcing his fat head past your tight ring of muscles. You’d yelp as he breached past the barrier, leaving you to babble and sob against the pillow like you did with Ushijima.

“Yer’ squeezing me so tightly, darling.” He leaned down to kiss you sloppily, saliva dripping from your chin the minute he pulled away. He’d runt his hips into you, massaging your thighs while he fucked you stupid, the noises leaving your lips filling him up with pride. “Pretty fuckin’ girl, hugging my cock so w-well, think I might cum right here.”

Shifting his hips, he held your legs up and hit your ‘sweet spot’, pounding into you quickly from then on.

“S-Sir!” Rolled off your tongue delicately, voice breaking down shortly from the immense moaning pouring from your mouth. Skin and skin smacking against each other, Tendou’s cock pulsing in your velvet walls.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, cum for me pretty one. Show me how much you love my cock, c’mon baby - yer’ pussy is gushing all over me, might as well cum.”

His dirty words going in from one ear and going out the other, letters all jumbled up together leaving your mouth. Phrases and babbles for “Sir!” sputtering out. Your mind was in a frenzy, eyes glossed over in a dumb look. You could barely even see with your vision so blurry, everything like a bubbly blur.

Your walls tightened around him as he intensifies his pace, cock slipping in and out of you with a slum of pre-cum everywhere.

“S-Sir! ‘m gonna.. Ten-” anything coherent diminishing from your mind as soon as you came, your cum coating his cock head fully.

Beads of perception rolling down his face, Tendou slipped out from your pussy. Face all sweaty with eyes glazed over with bliss. He’d pump his cock in his hand, stroking the sensitive flesh — your pretty little pants were enough for him, his hand gripping his cock as he unleashed his cum onto your stomach.

“Pretty girl, you look so cute with my cum on your stomach.” He’d coo. Picking up his phone from behind, he snapped a picture of your body, making sure to save it for later.

“Thanks for letting me fuck your girlfriend, tosh, I'll repay the favor later.” Tendou pulled up his pants and papped your cheek like before, grinning down at you. “I’ll see you later sweet cheeks and your pretty pussy.”

Toshi’s eyes watched Tendou leave the room and your fucked out body on his bed, cum smeared on your stomach with fluids everywhere. He wouldn't lie, it was a pretty sight. At least he knew this wouldn't be the last time he fucked you, Toshi knew Tendou always wanted another turn, always wanted the cycle to continue.

[creepychan08]

Oikawa x reader - A married life

"Now I'm asking you, what is this?" You shoved the screen of your phone,  towards your husband as he squinted his eyes at the sudden action.

"I told you,  I was at the company party and I-" Oikawa stopped. The picture showed him kissing a woman clad in revealing dress. His hands covered her cheeks as it looked like he was gladly returning the affection.

"Yn,  I know what it looks like but I promise you its not what it seems like to you."

"Then why are you kissing her!?" You threw your hands in the air,  frustrated at your husband. It didn't help that your hormones were skyrocketing and out of place. You were 3 months pregnant, after all.

"Look, she grabbed me out of nowhere and just forced herself on me. I was trying to push her that's why my hands were around her head. Baby, I wouldn't do that to you. You know I only love you."

You were rendered speechless at his explanation. The ache in your chest dispersing as you calm down. He wrapped his arms around you, running his hands through your soft hair.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. He smell so good beneath the smooth texture of his suit. Unknowingly to you, Oikawa's eyes were tightly shut as he bit his lips guiltily.

"It's just whenever I go to your workplace, I always see her sauntering around you. She's obviously trying to seduce you. That's why I asked you again and again to avoid her as much as possible. I don't want to lose you" Voicing out your insecurities made you feel vulnerable. But you know that being in a relationship require two parties involved to be honest with each other. Communication and trust remains the strong foundation of your marriage.

"I know,  sweetheart. But tell me, who sent that picture to you?" He pulled back and just when you were about to answer,  another chime from your phone took both of your attention.

You clicked it open. Oikawa right by your side as he curiously look at your text. You didn't mind it. There was nothing to hide from him anyway.

The message opened to reveal a video. Tapping the play button, it shows your husband furiously making out with the same girl in the earlier photo. They were situated in a corner,  away from everyone as some of his coworkers were busily drinking.

You hands started shaking as tears unconsciously poured from your eyes. Feeling your husband tense from beside you only confirms your theory. The video soon ended and there was tense silence.

You looked up to see Oikawa with his head bowed, hair covering his eyes. Even from your position, you couldn't see his expression. But it didn't matter. The video says it all. You didn't bother asking for explanation this time.

Slowly, you begun untangling his arms around you. Letting out a hollow laugh, you shook your head in dismay.

Funny how you always laugh at those cliche movies whenever a girl experiences heartbreak. They always portray it as a physical pain, symtoms similar to a heart attack. But you deem it as bullshit. Sure, it hurts. But its impossible to feel that much pain just from losing the one you love, right?

So why does it feel like you're dying now? Your heart still beats. But it feels as if it was literally torn and stamp repeatedly. You tried to breath normally but something lodge in your throat and why can't you breath properly?  Why does your lungs seem to stop working right when you need it most?

"Yn!"

"YN!!!"

Choking back a gasp, you return to reality as you see Oikawa panicking as he held you.

"Are you okay? Breath slowly, baby" He instructed, rubbing his hand soothingly on your back as you tried to regain your senses.

"Why, Tooru?" You finally gathered the courage to ask. The feeling of betrayal rang loud and clear on your hoarse voice and he winced from it.

"I'm sorry Yn. I'm sorry for lying. I got pretty drunk at the party. I lose control. We haven't done it for a while after you got pregnant and she was there and just flaunting around and kept rubbing me, saying things how she's going to make me feel good and I just- I!" He rambled, truth finally spilling from those lips you loved so much. His eyes were everywhere but you.

You didn't know what to feel. You asked for the truth, right? But you feel so much worse now.

"Are you blaming me for being pregnant, Tooru?"

"Shit,  no Yn-"

"We planned this together! You said you wanted to build a family with me. And we both decided to refrain from any sexual activities while I'm in my early pregnancy to avoid any possible complications while the baby is being developed. We talked about it and we both agreed! So why are you turning it against me now?"

"I know it wasn't an excuse, Yn! And I know I'm wrong. God,  I'm so wrong.Please, forgive me." Oikawa sobbed, tears cascading down the smooth expanse of his cheeks as he begged for your forgiveness.

"If you can't help yourself then maybe I shouldn't have agreed to have a baby with you!" You cried, anger radiating off you in waves.

"All those nights you came home late. Was it because you were taking your sweet time with her? Hm?" You smiled at him mockingly and his eyes widened in protest.

"No, Yn!" He tightly clutched your arms, desperately forcing you to hear him out, "Listen to me. I took all those overtime to gain extra money. That was in preparation for when our baby comes! Please believe me when I say it was for us!"

You looked at him with dull eyes. The aftermath of the fight just leaves you exhausted. You didn't know what to believe anymore. This was the man you had vowed to be with for the rest of your life. This was the man you wholeheartedly love and respect. Trust had always been your foundation,  hasn't it? 

Where has all the trust gone to?

You placed your hand on your belly. Wondering if he or she can feel the pain their father just bestowed to you. Hopefully not. You never want any harm nor pain come to your baby.

"I'm going to sleep. I'm tired." Coming up with a lame excuse, you turn to walk away when a hand firmly grasp your arms, not in a painful way.

"Lets talk about this, Yn. I don't want us to go to sleep tonight without resolving this issue." Oikawa pleaded with you, eyes begging for a chance. Any time, you will easily give in but after what happened, you don't know how to face him.

"I don't know what to say anymore, Tooru. I just want to rest." You smiled at him resignedly. Oikawa gritted his teeth. His heart throb painfully. How can you say that with such look on your face? Knowing that he caused your pain only increased the frustration and guilt running through his veins.

With a sigh,  he unwillingly yielded to your request. Letting go of your hand,  he watched your back face him as you slowly walked further away from him.

He will later learn that that was the biggest mistake of his life.

That night, both of you slept in the same bed as usual. Although a few inches only separates you, both your hearts were distanced with an invisible barrier. One trying to forget the pain it experienced,  while the other trying to find ways to have you back to him.

It was dead silent. You were tilting in between reality and dreams when a sudden, sharp pain tore through your abdomen and you screamed in pain. Startling your husband who immediately checked on you.

"Yn-chan,  are you okay?  What happened!?" Oikawa asked,  panic covering his features as he took in your pain filled expression. He felt the sheets wet and he clicked the bedside lamp open to see your side in bed covered in blood.

Your pupils dilated as you took in the sight. Another stabbing pain washed over you and you keeled in agony, stifling your screams. You barely felt Oikawa whisper comforting words to you before quickly lifting you up to bring you to the hospital.

My baby. No,  I can't lose him/her. Was the only thought going through your mind.

"It hurts" you groaned in pain as Oikawa comfortingly grip your hand with one of his own as he drive with one hand. (AN: Not safe. Don't do this guys. Always drive safely)

"Take deep breaths, love"

"My baby" Sobbing in distress, you held on your stomach and Oikawa felt like vomiting. A lot has happened in the past couple of hours and the thought of something happening to your unborn child didn't help the queasy feeling in his gut.

"I'm here, Yn. Nothing will happen to you nor our baby." Pretending to be strong for the both of you, he forcefully blinked the tears forming on his eyes.

Everything happened fast after that. It was like everything was a blur for him. You were quickly taken in the emergency room before you were transferred to the operating room. The doctor and nurses explained what was happening to you and what they were about to do. He numbly agreed to what they say. Only repeated over and over again that they must save you.

Before long he found himself waiting outside the operating theatre. His ears were ringing as he looked at his surroundings. It was surreal. Like his body was there but his consciousness somewhere else. He was only brought back to reality when he felt harsh tugging on his shoulder.

"Oi,  Oikawa get a grip on yourself!"

"Iwa-...chan..? How did you get here? "

"You texted me,  did you forget?"

"Ah.. Right" Oikawa mumbled, blankly staring at nowhere in particular. He felt drained but the anxiety running on his body did not allow him to even get an ounce of rest as he waited for the news on his wife and baby.

Iwaizumi frowned. It was unusual to see his bestfriend so distraught. He still didn't know what happened after all, Oikawa only texted him that he was in the hospital after something happened to his wife. But he felt asking would be too insensitive on his part so he stay silent and tried to just be there for his bestfriend.

"It was my fault,  y'know" Oikawa finally spoke after some time.

Iwaizumi patiently waited for him to continue, silently confused on Oikawa blaming himself.

"We had a fight. She saw me making out with the girl she hated from our company. Somebody sent her a video of it."

Iwaizumi was shocked. He knew Oikawa was a huge flirt back in their high school days but that he also outgrew it when he fall in love with Yn Ln. They were happy together and rarely had a fight as much as he knew. Or was it all a facade?

Suddenly,  he felt anger rush through him at the foolishness of his bestfriend. Messing around when he knew his wife was pregnant! Iwaizumi opened his mouth to curse at his close friend when he was frozen at the sight.

Oikawa was staring at him with regret painted all over his face. Tears continuously fall on his cheeks. The usual light in his warm, soft eyes was gone and all that was left was an endless pit of misery and hopelessness.

"I screwed up, Iwa-chan" He whispered, defeated.

Flinching in response, Iwaizumi's anger quickly switch into sympathy for his friend as he assessed his poor condition.

"She's strong. Stop thinking on the worst scenario. Just focus on what you will do after this." While giving him a reassurring pat on the back. Oikawa released a shaky breath as he nodded at his friends' advice.

Suddenly,  the doors to the operating room opened and a doctor wearing scrubs came out. Two nurses were by his side.

"We're looking for the husband of Yn, Ln"

"That is me"

Oikawa quickly stand up from his seat and approach the doctor. He was then escorted to an empty room where the two nurses silently left him and the doctor to discuss the aftermath of the procedure.

With his heart beating loudly, Oikawa eagerly fired questions to the doctor.

"How is she?  How's my wife?  My baby?  Were you able to save them?  When can I see them?"

The doctor resignedly took of his mask.

"I'm sorry to inform you,  Oikawa-san but the baby didn't make it. Your wife had a spontaneous miscarriage. It has no specific cause. Women in their first trimester or early pregnancy are more prone to experience it that's why stress must be avoided at all times especially during this sensitive period in a womans' body."

Oikawa felt like being doused in cold water. He stayed frozen while staring at the doctor who looked grim. After seeing all that blood came out on his wife,  he already knew deep inside that they lost the baby but he simply refused to believe it. He hang on to that tiny hope that maybe their unborn baby can be saved.

He shakily gulped, feeling his heart break. The pain was intense. They were looking forward to the arrival of their first child and for this to happen-

"What about my wife? Can I see her now?" He was hurting. Greatly. But he couldn't imagine how his wife was faring. She was the one carrying their child, after all. He wanted to comfort her and be there for her.

"I-" the doctor stopped and cleared his throat. Oikawa felt something amiss. Like an impending doom but he quickly tried to shoo the thought away.

"Doctor, how is she? I want to talk to her as soon as possible."

"That is another matter I must discuss with you, Oikawa-san."

The nerves were killing him and it took all his self restraint to not jump across the table and force the surgeon to speak at once.

"There was.. a complication while we were taking the fetus out of her. The amount of blood was greater than what it should been. We quickly transfused blood into her but it wasn't enough. We tried to resuscitate her but in the end she.. died due to heamorrhagic shock."

For a moment, Oikawa forgot how to breath. The world around him turn to black and white and the only words resounding in his mind was that she's dead, she's dead repeatedly.

It didn't fully sink in yet. Until he saw his wife, his beloved Yn, lying still in the operating room. Her face was pale under the glare of OR lights. And if he didn't know any better, it looks as if she is only sleeping peacefully after a long day. But as he caress her cold cheeks, no more warmth emanating from those cheeks he love to kiss so much, he was slapped with the bitter reality that she's not coming back.

No more warm smiles and sweet kisses from his wife as he return home after a long day at work. No more delicious meals waiting for him at the table as they talked about what happened during their day. No more cuddles and whisper of i love you's in the darkness of the night as they lay entangled from the after event of making love.

The perfect picture of a happy family with their son/daughter shattered in his mind as he loudly grieved for the loss of his family.

Kami-sama if you are real,  please let me return back time. Let me be with my family again. Please give me a chance to make things right...

Oikawa loudly gasped as if coming back to land after drowning. He find himself gazing at the ceiling in their room. It was dark. Where was he?

A slight shuffle and then,

"Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare, Tooru?"

That sweet, melodious voice.

Oikawa slowly turn towards the source of sound to see, much to his relief, his beloved wife gazing at him with concern while rubbing the sleep out her eyes.

"Yn-chan" He choked, lunging at her to give her the tightest embrace.

"Woah there,  big guy" You chuckled,  patting his back. You stilled when you felt something wet trickled down your neck.

"I'm so glad! So glad to be with you, Yn!" The pure, raw emotion coming from your husband surprised you as he continued to sob on your neck, clinging to you like a lost baby.

"Please don't ever leave me again!  Kami-sama,  thank you for bringing her back to me!" Oikawa yelled, voice muffled as he continued to shove his face around your neck.

"What has happened to you, dear?" You worriedly asked and pull his face away to wipe some of his tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You suggested,  talking about his nightmare.

"No need, love. I just want to say that I *kiss* love *kiss* you *kiss* so damn much!"

You giggled at his affection, loving his kisses.

"Oh and how many months are you again?"

"Silly, did you forget? I'm just two months along. 7 months to go"

Oikawa heaved a sigh of relief. Turning to your stomach,  he leaned down and pulled up your shirt.

"Hey,  little one. I'm so excited to meet you. But for now,  be good for mommy, okay?" Placing a sweet kiss to your stomach,  you smiled at your husbands' attention as you run your fingers through his hair. Oikawa gladly reciprocate your smile with his own.

This time, I'll love you with all of my heart. I won't make the same mistakes again. We will be a happy family, Yn.

Extended ending:

"Yes you heard it right. You're fired." Oikawa coldly said to his assistant. The one who destroyed his past life and made him and his wife suffer.

"But! I-" she whined pathetically, trying to win his sympathy by acting like a pitiful slut. But Oikawa was having none of it.

"I said. Get. Out." The fiery glare in his eyes send shivers down her spine and she immediately booked her way out of his office,  whining like a bitch along the way.

Another extended ending:

7 months later, you tiredly smile at the little bundle of joy in your arms. After 18 hours of grueling labor, you finally had your healthy, baby boy.

"I'm so proud of you." Oikawa wiped the sweat along your forehead as he softly kissed you.

"Thank you for bringing our baby to this world. You make me the happiest person alive, Yn. I love you two so much and I swear to protect you both for the rest of my life." He whispered, tears springing in his eyes at the emotional moment.

"As do I,  Tooru. As do I." You swore,  sealing that promise with sweet kiss.

Fin

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

[ragingbookdragon]

Panthera Felidae et Celeritas

Barry Allen x Meta!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Gonna make a second part...sometime...later...Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The meta-human was fast. And while he wasn’t as fast as Barry, he’d managed to snap the speedster’s femur with a well-placed kick. Barry went down, holding his leg whilst he grit his teeth and shoved his bone back into place so it’d heal; Hal landed beside him, ready to pick up the slack and protect his best friend.

Striding towards them, the meta had a sick grin on his face as he ribbed, “I’m going to use your spine as a toothpick, Lantern.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hal shot back, baring his teeth as he raised his arm, ready to form a construct when a hulking figure of orange, black, and white fur darted from around the corner of a building, sprinting right up to the meta.

It reared onto its hind legs, one big front paw swiping down harshly at the meta, connecting to the middle of its back, and both Hal and Barry watched the man’s eyes widen in first a look of shock, the next of pain as a sickening crack sent the meta to the ground, upper body spazzing as their lower body stilled.

“I can’t feel my back!” he screamed in agony and the beast bent down, its face next to the man’s and opened its mouth, snarling fiercely, flashing long, razor sharp canines. The meta whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and the beast took one last look at him before turning its golden eyes onto Barry and Hal.

They stared back with equal mixtures of fear, but the beast chuffed and turned tail, bounding away as quickly as it had come.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hal asked.

Barry shook his head, blue eyes wide as he said, “I have no idea…but I think there’s a tiger loose in Central City.”

***

There were big cat sightings all over Central City—cheetahs, cougars, jaguars, leopards, snow leopards, ligers, lions, tigers; someone even said they saw a saber tooth tiger, which Barry highly doubted, but sure enough when he’d gotten to the scene and tested the DNA, it linked to a few scientific discoveries and genomes closely relating to the extinct beast.

He’d half a mind to bring the League in on the discoveries, but the animals weren’t killing people, and he was still reeling on how to explain to his team that there were animals running around that weren’t even native to the US, nor having populations in the state. Oddly enough though, the animals were never seen in the same place at the same time. Each sighting was on a different night with a different big cat, telling Barry that this had to be some type of trainer releasing the cats on particular times.

He spent almost an hour, well a human hour, not a speedster hour, triangulating territory across Central City before he finally found a common location inside the sightings—an old amusement park that had been shut down a few years before, waiting on renovations when someone would finally buy it.

So, what did Barry do? What Barry did best—he went alone to see which kitty cat he could find first.

***

The entire park was eerie, dark and creaking, rusted metal and cracked plastic everywhere. It almost made him think of those post-apocalyptic video games. Still though, he quelled his fears, though they boiled in his stomach, and hopped over the barriers, quietly walking the silent park.

Every noise had the hair on the back of his neck rising, turning in circles to look behind him at whatever it was, and at one point, he briefly considered calling for Superman—nothing gave you nerves of steel like the Man of Steel.

Shaking his head, he reaffirmed his own abilities. He could do this. He was fast enough to escape danger, he just had to sense it coming.

The sound of nails on metal echoed in Barry’s ears and he shivered, peeking around the corner of an abandoned booth to see a sleek black jaguar scratching at a metal door until it shoved open, and it slipped inside.

His brows furrowed and he looked around before quickly following it, slipping inside the doorway. It led down a further hall and into a tunnel, and with the large metal pistons and wheels in the walls, he assumed it was the underneath of an out of order roller coaster.

Glancing down, he saw paw prints in the dusty ground that obviously hadn’t been disturbed in a couple decades. Barry frowned and continued down the hallway, coming around a corner.

The second he turned it, he ran smack dab into something, and he gasped, immediately shoving out. Whatever had run into him went to the ground with a pained grunt and he blinked in the darkness, looking down, surprise bleeding through him as a woman’s face cleared in the darkness.

Barry had so many thoughts running through his head, but their safety overrode it and he bent down, hauling her up as he whispered harshly, “Never mind what you’re doing here, we have to leave now.”

“What?” she hissed back, letting him tug her down the hallway. “Who are you!”

“My name is Barry. I work at CCPD.” He glanced back at her, well, over her shoulder. “There’s a big cat somewhere down here and we need to get away. If my calculations are right, there are more around.”

“Wait, you know?” she questioned, feet skidding to a halt and Barry looked back at her.

“What do you mean? That the big cats are hiding around here?” she nodded, and he tipped his head. “Yeah. I figured it out with the police scans and public sightings.”

Her jaw started to go slack, and he tugged her again. “C’mon, we have to get out of here before that panther comes back.”

“It’s a jaguar.”

He stopped. “What?”

She pulled her wrist out of his grip. “It’s a black jaguar not a panther.”

Barry cocked a brow. “How do you know?”

“I…” she seemed hesitant, diverting her gaze. “I can’t tell you right now.” She hurried past him. “But you don’t have to worry. There are no cats here.”

“But my calculations—”

“Are wrong, Blake. There are no cats here.”

“It’s Barry,” he retorted. “Barry.”

“Whatever your name is,” she scowled, pushing the door open so they could both get out.

As they did, he pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight upwards so he could see her features. “Who are you?”

She blinked. “It’s not important.”

“It is. If you know about the big cats roaming the city and hurting people, then I need to know.”

Her face pinched. “They’re not hurting people. They’re helping.”

Barry recalled the meta-human incident—the meta’s spine had been broken in one swipe of that tiger’s paw. “Breaking spines and other important body parts isn’t helping people.”

“It’s not like I’m eating the criminals!” she shouted, then slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and Barry gaped at her.

“What did you just say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything!”

“No, you said something alright. It sounded like you said you weren’t eating the criminals.” He leaned closer. “Who are you and what do you know about the cats?”

For a moment, she merely gazed at him, then she let out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as she resigned herself. “Alright…I’ll talk.” She exhaled. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I’m a part-timer at the STAR Labs research facility. A few months ago…I was helping one of the scientists identify a common DNA strand found in the Panthera family and how it would react if spliced together in a new animal when—”

She trailed off, unsure of herself and Barry encouraged, “When?”

(Y/N) sighed again. “I don’t know. There was a mistake with the experiment. Some kind of electromagnetic shock that caused an entire building outage.”

“What else?” he questioned, and she shrugged.

“When we went inside after the power was back on, the test subject was deceased. Doctor Lesia asked me to clean up and I did, but I must’ve gotten contaminated somehow. Maybe through an open wound? I don’t know.”

She inhaled, meeting Barry’s blue eyes. “The DNA sequencing experiment didn’t fail though.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously and she looked towards the door.

“Give me a moment.” As she walked back inside, she quickly stuck her head out and said, “Don’t be alarmed and don’t run, okay?”

He was wary of that and after a few moments, he heard scratching at the door and the door handle bent down, then the door pulled open, and the black jaguar bounded out.

Barry was quick to step back with a sharp, “Shit!” but the cat didn’t do anything, it merely sat down and looked at him; he took a closer look, eyes widening and he breathed, “Oh my God…it resequenced your DNA.”

She nodded, making a low growling noise, then disappeared back inside, only to reappear herself once more. “I’ve been able to transform into any cat whose DNA sequence belongs to the Panthera family.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I have to transform at least once a day, or it’ll happen without my control, and I can’t risk it happening at my job or out in public. So, I come here and transform, then run around Central City.”

“And fight crime,” he surmised, and she tipped her head side to side.

“It didn’t start out like that, honest. I realized I had all this energy pent up and running and scouring seemed to get it out.” (Y/N) blinked. “The first time I ever fought ‘crime’ was when I stopped a meta human from attacking Flash and Green Lantern.”

Barry stared at her. “You broke the meta-human’s spine.”

She winced. “I…didn’t realize I’d hit him with that much strength…but it was that or risk him hurting another hero and I didn’t want that to happen.” (Y/N) looked at him. “Please…please don’t tell anybody you know this. I’ll stop, just please don’t tell anyone. If you do, who knows what government science squad will come after me and kidnap me.”

Her face was the picture of pure terror and she reached out, grabbing Barry’s jacket, tears welling in her eyes as she begged again, “Please Barry, don’t tell anyone.”

Barry took her hands, squeezing them gently. “I won’t. I promise.”

She blinked tearfully and asked, “You won’t?”

“No, I won’t tell.” He smiled at her and fiddled with the ring on his hand, showing her the lightning symbol on it. “Not after I owe you for saving me and Green Lantern.”

(Y/N) eyes widened, and she gaped at the ring, then at his face. “You—you’re him…the Flash.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Barry sighed, looking around, seeing the moon high in the sky. “Look, it’s late right now. Why don’t we both go home for the night and meet up sometime later?”

“To do what?” she questioned, and he met her eyes.

“Well, I doubt we’ll be able to undo the resequencing of your DNA. There’s no telling how damaging it could be to you if we try.” He thought for a moment, then decided, “So how about this, we meet up, and we’ll see about training you.”

(Y/N)’s face pinched. “But I’m not a speedster?”

“True, but technically you’re like me. You’re a meta-human now.” Barry smiled, wide and toothy. “And if there’s one thing I know how to do—it’s help meta-humans control their powers.”

She searched his gaze for a few moments, then she nodded. “Alright…that seems like a fair plan.” (Y/N) held out her hand and Barry took it, shaking it firmly. “Glad to be apart of the team, Flash.”

“Glad to have you, er…” his brows furrowed. “Do you have a name yet?”

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought, then her face lit up and she replied, “Panthera.” Barry snorted and she flushed. “I know…I’m a nerd.”

He shook his head. “So am I.”

[sebbytrash]

Through His Eyes - Part Nineteen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings -  self reflection, sad bucky, probably swearing

A/N - HERE. I FIX. This is it my pals, buckle tf up. 

HUGE thank you to my other half @manawhaat​ for her exceptional Betaing as always

Through His Eyes Masterlist

It was a cold day, a sharp day. One of those ornery spans of time that climbs inside your skin and lets it’s roots take your bones. The sky is everywhere and nowhere, a borderless open canvas without the depth of sun or the vitality of night. The trees are brittle, breakable and the drying leaves are skittish.

The world around you holds its collective breath, waiting and watching and wondering. The leather of the steering wheel groans in protest as your fingers tighten in time with your inhales. Your thunderous heartbeats reverberate inside the car, the one borrowed from Clint after nearly wearing away the soles of your shoes just to get to his house in the first place, or maybe just inside your bones, shaking you from the inside out. There’s still miles between you and home, still plenty of time to arrange your thoughts, still time to run. 

You won’t. Not this time, and not any other future times that voice in your head might say it, that seductive cowerdess with a honeyed voice. 

Clint’s words were razor-sharp, cutting away those strings of guilt and doubt, the sudden and impossible realisation that perhaps, just maybe, happiness was for you after all. The ghost of the words you’d last said to Bucky came carried on the wind of regret, were all too happy to remind you that, actually, you had discarded that happiness and had no real right to hope for it. So you didn’t hope, you held the prequel to hope gently in your heart, the soft stretch of winds before hope’s flight. 

You left without a plan, nothing but the need to lessen the distance between you and him, no longer ready for his eyes to become a memory or your sheets to lose his scent. It feels like a race, like he’ll be whisked away by the bitter winds that hammer so persistently against the side of the car. But as the miles pass and the sound of your heart slows to a steady gallop, you think and overthink about what you might say, how you might explain your outburst and the following drama but more importantly, how you might say it, those words, how you will admit how you feel. 

Impossible, the coward whispers again, he won’t want you now. 

He might not, you think, but at least you will have tried. At least you won’t have that to regret, too. Simply add the others to a long list of what-ifs and could-have-beens, a pile of chances never taken and moments unlived. This chance, this hopeful not-hope, is the biggest risk you’ve taken in a long time. The thought alone lets you measure just how much you’ve changed, how much he’s changed you. The hollowed out, broken man who quietly put himself back together right under your nose. Even the you from before would have scoffed at the thought of being changed by a man, any man, but it’s true. He changed you then and he's changed you now. 

And, perhaps, the pieces you’ve so diligently stitched back together are better than the whole you were before. Maybe not better...but more undeniably you, real and honest. Honest forgiveness, and then, honest love. The word itself is still a weight in your mouth, tongue and teeth unable to cooperate to let it escape. 

You check your phone at the next set of lights, clear a bunch of useless notifications and find a text from Sam. 

“You can do this.” 

He knows, then. You wonder if Clint told him but more likely, Sam just knows like he always does. Sentient Sam. Well, with the company you keep it’s probably more surprising if he isn’t harbouring some sort of preternatural ability.

The rest of the journey passes in a blur of colour, faded bits of brightness that dull when you look at them too long or too quickly, all the spare spaces in your brain just eaten up by the word you can’t form and yet, the words you need to say. When you arrive, the shared spaces are mercifully empty and you make it to your room without so much as glimpsing another soul, not entirely unexpected given that day had again turned to night somewhere in the miles you’d gone. You shrug off the travel induced grime in a hot shower, as hot as you can stand it, let your tongue gather a few drops like it might loosen it, set those words free. 

It doesn’t. 

Now you sit, perched on your bed, water still dripping from your hair down your neck and back. Ready, but not. 

Without thinking, you lay back, head on the pillow you never use and try not cling to the soft wisps of his cologne, the one he started wearing for your moonlit visits, like a raft against the sea of your own thoughts. A hand clasped gently over your chest, bruised and tender from the furious beats of your furious heart, the other thumb running gently over those scars again. They no longer hold the same power over you they once did, angry raised flesh that shackled grief to your soul, no, now they are just another page in your story. Not the final chapter you once believed them to be. You take a steadying breath, and then another, and think finally, it’s time for the next book to begin.

His door is the same, and it’s not. It doesn’t loom with darkness, instead it stands like the space between stars, dark and filled with potential. You eye it from afar, still hovering on the edge of that hopeful-not-hope and wonder if you stare hard enough you might see within. It remains stubbornly solid, much to your dismay, and so you urge your feet forward, one step and then another until you reach it. You forcibly unclench your teeth and knock, soft enough that you barely feel the scrape of the wood on your knuckles but it swings inwards anyway and reveals a very exasperated Bucky. He stills immediately, mid sentence, face falls off a cliff and lands somewhere between shocked and confused. You want to laugh, and cry, the relief of finally seeing him again threatens to claim your voice from your throat and derail this whole thing before you can utter a single word. You look at him with those fresh, unburdened eyes and marvel, not for the first time, at how very not-soldier he is. 

“Hi,” you say, voice still under siege. He says nothing, simply stares like he’s not sure you're real and so you continue. “Can we talk?”

“Uh…” He blinks a few rapid blinks and comes back to himself. “Yes. Yeah, come in.” He gestures towards the room but when you take a step inside he gives you a wide berth, feet shuffling clumsily to put the coffee table between you. A barrier, a shield.

Your bruised heart aches with every step and the hope flutters a little in protest. It feels awkward as you hover over the couch like you don’t deserve to sit, all the air in the room suddenly prickly, like there's too much air or not enough space between the molecules and you hate it. You hate this distance that’s between you again. The one you created with your panic and denial. 

“You’re back.” He states, eyes wandering over your face like he's checking over those bruises again and you wonder if he’s dreamed of you since, if he’s had a night without you behind his eyelids like you haven’t since this dizzying new world opened up and swallowed you whole. 

The fear gains a foothold, your hope is the oxygen and his quiet apprehension is the flame. “Yeah, like an hour ago.” Say something else, your mind begs, say anything else, your heart joins. But you can’t. Cold dread eats up all the heat in your bones like a slow moving frost, stealing and taking whatever muster you have left. 

“Steve said you went to Clints.” His eyes finally meet yours, ocean filled and storm tempered, simply unable to blink away the rough shores and instead they pour out of him, beating waves against you that make your knees wobble. He looks at you with the same uncertainty he did all those months ago when he first arrived, filled to the brim with those sloth like emotions. If melancholy had a face, it would be his in this moment. 

You expect it, the guardedness and the caution, but it still throws you off when you see it written so clearly on his face, still whittles away at your nerve until the words you need to say are taken hostage in your mouth and instead, “I needed some time,” you begin, fingers picking away at a loose thread on the couch, “Well, uh, perspective, actually.” 

“Right.” He says plainly, clearly unsure what to make of that answer or why you are here in his room saying nothing important with an important looking face. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” You admit, finally, choking on the words as you do and stifling the need to take them back, or say them again. It’s a desperate feeling, dry mouthed and aching jaw, frantically turning you in circles to find a whole and complete sentence you might say to ease the look on his face. 

Agony turns down the corners of his mouth and he whispers, defeated but defiant, “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Your lungs protest, sudden and sharp, all of your fears leap and dance inside your chest. This is it, the shoe finally dropping. Run,run,run.

“Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry for us.” He begs it, quietly but earnestly, frown deepening as he does. “I’m not, and if you came here just to drive the point home...” He looks away like he can’t bare it another second, eyes shut tight to protect or contain. 

You take a quick, pointed second to delight in his response, “No, Bucky, I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I said that.” He looks at you, cautiously, guarded, and you ache to smooth the frown from his face with your fingertips or your lips. “I don’t regret it... us. Not at all.” He sinks into the couch, deflating as he does like he expected a fight or a blow and isn’t sure what to do now that it’s neither. 

“I was scared. Shit, I still am. I didn’t know if your feelings were real, if they could be real, or if it was just some leftover need to make up for something that was never your fault in the first place. Or maybe I did it, you know? Maybe I took it and made it into something else. I didn’t trust it.” Now that you’ve started speaking, the words tumble and pour from your mouth, a river of feelings rushing at him faster than he can take and faster than you can say. 

“And then, the dream happened and it just felt like I was hindering your progress. And you were too nice or I was too selfish to do something about it.” The frown deepens again and you can tell he wants to fight you, that he thinks this is something else and so you raise a hand. “Please...just let me finish?” His mouth twists like he's bursting to say something, anything, but he nods anyway.

“I should never have made that decision for you. I know that now. I didn’t see it for what it was. Not until Clint verbally slapped me in the face, I guess.” You smile, a small tilt of the lips and watch him fight to contain his in response, like even now when he has no idea how you feel he still has to smile back so the curve of his lips match your own. “So, I’m sorry. Sorry for taking that choice from you, sorry for doubting you, sorry for leaving, but mostly…” runaway tears slip down your cheeks, the unsettling overspill of regret and longing, “I’m sorry for not telling you I love you, too.” 

“You--” Bucky’s mouth crumples and his face goes tight, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows bunched up beside each other, he stays that way for several seconds, long enough for your hope to vanish and your gut to roll like you were going to meet your lunch again. 

“Buck?” You take a step towards him and then stop, wondering if that step should have been towards the door instead. If he no longer wanted this version of you who ran and came back, but instead the one who hid behind walls inside her own heart. 

“I want it too much.” He says, finally, and looks at you with the same ocean eyes he always has, a lifetime's worth of hope drowning inside. He smiles your smile and reaches a hand for yours, tentative, soft fingers sliding around your wrist and your skin bounces.

“Me, too.” You let yourself be guided into his lap, his fingers sweeping away the tears that loosen at the sheer weight of your relief, foreheads pressed together and shaking hands clutching onto shaking bones. Your grip on his shirt turns painful, aching to be near and his is just as tight, yet, somehow gentle, balancing all that love on the edge of his smile. 

Cool fingers cup your neck, a thumb pressing gently along your jaw and then he kisses you, his lips fitting together with yours like they did before, his ribs fitting under your hands the same way they did before. Fingers and hands and thighs all fitting together, exactly like they did before. 

The butterflies wreck havoc in your belly, like they did before. 

He kisses you, again, and again, lazy lips and eager tongues, losing minutes to the flush of heat inside your blood and the way the stars sing. You let his lips chase away the fear and let it be replaced with something else, something new but familiar, such a weightlessness that you might float right off the couch if he wasn't holding you like his anchor to the earth. You laugh in between kisses, faces wet and sore from all the smiling and kissing, and smiling. 

After, seconds or hours, you push back just enough to say, hushed against the stubble of his jaw, “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me.”

“Not possible.” His answer is immediate, without consideration, his thumb trails along your bottom lip and his eyes follow, then he pauses in thought, a shadow passes across his face in an instant but he stays quiet. 

“What was that?” You ask, letting your fingertips find the edges of his frown, fascinated and terrified by how you long for him even while holding him. 

“It’s just... I can’t promise I won’t have any more nightmares. Or that there won’t be bad days, you know?” He says it like it’s an admission of guilt, or like it might change your mind. Your heart twinges at the thought that you put those very particular worries inside his head, that he still doesn’t know what he is to you, the way it reaches marrow-deep. 

“I know. And I’ll be there when you do.” You smile sadly, “I’m not going anywhere. I want this, with you, for real this time.” You try to carve your intentions into those words, try to say it so it pours straight into his veins and is carried right to his heart. 

 He nods, still unconvinced or maybe contemplating, something still waiting to be said and you see him consider it, see him turn it over in his mind a few times before he says. “And I don’t wanna be....I don’t want us to be a secret anymore.” 

That does it, the simple, quiet admission that lets you feel exactly all the ways you’ve hurt this broken-not-broken man without even knowing you were. He’s loved you in ways you can’t even count and all you’ve done is poke at his wounds with oblivious hands and poison coated kisses. It knocks the wind clean out of you for a few short moments, empty lungs grasping at your jagged ribs, before you collect yourself, let every ounce of feeling show on your face and say, “No more secrets. I’m in this, Bucky. I’m in it with you.” 

Stay, stay, stay.

Divider by the super talented @writeyourmindaway​ (You should really check them out, there’s something for everyone!)

[picsofsannyas]

OSHO, IN THE PAST ALL FAMOUS ARTISTS HAVE BEEN WELL-KNOWN FOR THEIR BOHEMIAN SIDE OF LIFE. OSHO, PLEASE CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING ABOUT CREATIVITY AND DISCIPLINE?

Santosh Sneh, the bohemian life is the only life worth living! All other kinds of lives are only lukewarm; they are more ways of committing slow suicide than ways of living life passionately and intensely. In the past it was inevitable that the artist had to live in rebellion, because creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence. If you want to create you have to get rid of all conditionings, otherwise your creativity will be nothing but copying, it will be just a carbon copy. You can be creative only if you are an individual, you cannot create as a part of the mob psychology. The mob psychology is uncreative; it lives a life of drag, it knows no dance, no song, no joy; it is mechanical.

Of course, there are a few things you will get from the society only if you are mechanical: respectability you will get, honors you will get. Universities will confer D.Litts on you, countries will give you gold medals, you may finally become a Nobel laureate, but this whole thing is ugly.

A real man of genius will discard all this nonsense, because this is bribery. Giving the Nobel prize to a person simply means that your services to the establishment are respected, that you are honored because you have been a good slave, obedient, tha

The creator cannot follow the well-trodden path, he has to search out his own way, he has to inquire in the jungles of life, he has to go alone, he has to be a dropout from the mob mind, from the collective psychology. The collective mind is the lowest mind in the world; even the so-called idiots are a little more superior than the collective idiocy. But the collectivity has its own bribes: it respects people, honors people, if they go on insisting that the way of the collective mind is the only right way.

It was out of sheer necessity that in the past, creators of all kinds -- the painters, the dancers, the musicians, the poets, the sculptors -- had to renounce respectability. They had to live a kind of bohemian life, the life of a vagabond; that was the only possibility for them to be creative. This need not be so in the future. If you understand me, if you feel what I am saying has truth in it, then in the future everybody should live individually and there will be no need for a bohemian life. The bohemian life is the by-product of a fixed, orthodox, conventional, respectable life.

My effort is to destroy the collective mind and to make each individual free to be himself or herself. Then there is no problem; then you can live as you want to live. In fact, humanity will really only be born the day the individual is respected in his rebellion. Humanity has still not been born; it is still in the womb. What you see as humanity is only a very hocus-pocus phenomenon. Unless we give individual freedom to each person, absolute freedom to each person to be himself, to exist in his own way.... And, of course, he has not to interfere with anybody -- that is part of freedom. Nobody should interfere with anybody. But in the past everybody has been poking his nose into everybody else's affairs -- even into things which are absolutely private, which have nothing to do with the society. For example, you fall in love with a woman -- what has that got to do with the society? It is purely a personal phenomenon, it is not of the marketplace. If two persons are agreeing to commune in love, the society should not come into it, but the society comes into it with all its paraphernalia, in direct ways, in indirect ways. The policeman will stand between the lovers; the magistrate will stand between the lovers; and if that is not enough then the societies have created a super-policeman, God, who will take care of you. The idea of God is that of a peeping Tom who does not even allow you privacy in your bathroom, who goes on looking through the keyhole, watching what you are doing. This is ugly. All the religions of the world say God continuously watches you -- this is ugly. What kind of God is this? Has he got no other business but to watch everybody, follow everybody? Seems to be the supreme-most detective! Humanity needs a new soil -- the soil of freedom. Bohemianism was a reaction, a necessary reaction, but if my vision succeeds then there will be no bohemianism because there will be no so-called collective mind trying to dominate people. Then everybody will be at ease with himself. Of course, you have not to interfere with anybody, but as far as your life is concerned you have to live it on your own terms. Then only is there creativity. Creativity is the fragrance of individual freedom.

You ask me, Sneh:

OSHO, PLEASE CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING ABOUT CREATIVITY AND DISCIPLINE?

"Discipline" is a beautiful word, but it has been misused as all other beautiful words have been misused in the past. The word "discipline" comes from the same root as the word "disciple"; the root meaning of the word is "a process of learning." One who is ready to learn is a disciple, and the process of being ready to learn is discipline.

The knowledgeable person is never ready to learn, because he already thinks he knows; he is very centered in his so-called knowledge. His knowledge is nothing but a nourishment for his ego. He cannot be a disciple, he cannot be in true discipline.

Socrates says: "I know only one thing, that I know nothing." That is the beginning of discipline. When you don't know anything, of course, a great longing to inquire, explore, investigate arises. And the moment you start learning, another factor follows inevitably: whatsoever you have learned has to be dropped continuously, otherwise it will become knowledge and knowledge will prevent further learning.

The real man of discipline never accumulates; each moment he dies to whatsoever he has come to know and again becomes ignorant. That ignorance is really luminous. I agree with Dionysius when he calls ignorance luminous. It is one of the most beautiful experiences in existence to be in a state of luminous not-knowing. When you are in that state of not-knowing you are open, there is no barrier, you are ready to explore. The Hindus cannot do it -- they are already knowledgeable. The Mohammedans cannot do it, the Christians cannot do it. My sannyasins CAN do it.

Hence it happens every day.... Every day I receive many letters, many questions. One friend has come from the West. He says, for three, four years he has been reading my books and he was so excited, he was in such great love with me, that he wanted to come somehow as quickly as possible. Now he has been able to manage to come, but here he feels frustrated. For four years he was in deep love with me, and now he says, "I cannot say the same because you are so shocking to me. You irritate me, you annoy me; you go on hammering on my cherished ideas."

It is easy to read a book because the book is in your hands. I am not in your hands! You can interpret the book according to your ideas, you cannot interpret me according to your ideas -- I will make so much trouble for you! He was not in love with me, he was in love with his own ideas, and because he was finding support from my books he lived in an illusion.

But with me illusions are bound to be shattered. I am here to shatter all illusions. Yes, it will irritate you, it will annoy you -- that's my way of functioning and working. I will sabotage you from your very roots! Unless you are totally destroyed as a mind, there is no hope for you.

Discipline has been misinterpreted. People have been telling others to discipline their life, to do this, not to do that. Thousands of shoulds and should-nots have been imposed on man, and when a man lives with thousands of shoulds and should-nots he cannot be creative. He is a prisoner; everywhere he will come across a wall.

The creative person has to dissolve all shoulds and should-nots. He needs freedom and space, vast space, he needs the whole sky and all the stars, only then can his innermost spontaneity start growing.

So remember, my meaning of discipline is not that of any Ten Commandments; I am not giving you any discipline; I am simply giving you an insight how to remain learning and never become knowledgeable. Your discipline has to come from your very heart, it has to be YOURS -- and there is a great difference. When somebody else gives you the discipline it can never fit you; it will be like wearing somebody else's clothes. Either they will be too loose or too tight, and you will always feel a little bit silly in them.

Mohammed has given a discipline to the Mohammedans; it may have been good for him, but it cannot be good for anybody else. Buddha has given a discipline to millions of Buddhists; it may have been good for him, but it cannot be good for anybody else. A discipline is an individual phenomenon; whenever you borrow it you start living according to set principles, dead principles. And life is never dead; life is constantly changing each moment. Life is a flux.

Heraclitus is right: you cannot step in the same river twice. In fact, I myself would like to say you cannot step in the same river even once, the river is so fast-moving! One has to be alert to, watchful of, each situation and its nuances, and one has to respond to the situation according to the moment, not according to any readymade answers given by others.

Do you see the stupidity of humanity? Five thousand years ago, Manu gave a discipline to the Hindus and they are still following it. Three thousand years ago Moses gave a discipline to the Jews and they are still following it. Five thousand years ago Adinatha gave his discipline to the Jainas and they are still following it. The whole world is being driven crazy by these disciplines! They are out of date, they should have been buried long long ago. You are carrying corpses and those corpses are stinking. And when you live surrounded by corpses, what kind of life can you have?

I teach you the moment and the freedom of the moment and the responsibility of the moment. One thing may be right this moment and may become wrong the next moment. Don't try to be consistent, otherwise you will be dead. Only dead people are consistent. Try to be alive, with all its inconsistencies, and live each moment without any reference to the past, without any reference to the future either. Live the moment in the context of the moment, and your response will be total. And that totality has beauty and that totality is creativity. Then whatsoever you do will have a beauty of its own.

Osho.

The Goose is Out Chapter #9 Chapter title: Rejoice to abandon!

[umbry-fic]

kakurenbo

Summary:

"How do you always find me?" Colette would ask every time, pouting.

"Because I'm the best seeker around for miles!" Lloyd would declare, grinning.

Their disastrous first game of hide-and-seek, and a promise made between children.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Genis Sage Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Genis Sage Rating: G Word Count: 2565 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 27/09/2021

Notes: A short fluffy fic about hide-and-seek, featuring a lot of kids being kids!

~~~

Their first game of hide-and-seek, when Colette was eleven, was… something of a disaster. Even that was something of an understatement, considering the situation she found herself in now - shivering and alone.

Lloyd was the one to introduce it, like always, this game where one person covered their eyes and everyone else ran around like headless chickens. He was the one that coaxed her and Genis into trying out the games that they were all no stranger to - having spent many years peering out the window at the other children, caught in the middle of merriment - but had never experienced for themselves. He would clamour on about whatever exciting game had caught his interest at the moment, gesturing wildly, infectious energy spreading from him. So much, that even Genis couldn’t help but succumb, leading the three of them to make plans in hushed whispers during class, always in danger of getting an earful from Professor Raine but revelling in the thrill of it.

And then they would carry out their plans, clumsily, but always with childish exuberance flooding the air. Giggles bubbling from her chest while Lloyd grinned, Genis letting out a laugh of his own. It would end in disaster half the time - things just had a tendency to go awry when it was the three of them - sometimes burying them head-to-toe in mud, sometimes completely drenching them, and sometimes leaving them covered in tiny scratches and bruises, though they were never happier.

They never learned their lesson. Because they did it, over and over again, her and Genis always following Lloyd’s lead. It was so easy to fall into step behind him, to trust in him to bring them on fantastical adventures full of joy and wonder, that they had once barely known. Like he was a captain, leading his measly, but very enthusiastic crew, onwards with large, confident steps.

Which led to them starting an ill-advised game of hide-and-seek in front of Dirk’s house in the late afternoon after school, each one of them raring to win. Even the usually reserved Genis was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a competitive fire burning in his eyes. The matter of setting boundaries, one of the most important parts of hide-and-seek, had slipped their minds completely. Or perhaps it had never occurred to them at all, three children utterly lost in the heat of the moment.

The games their classmates played were always confined to the school grounds, the insistent ringing of the bell by Professor Raine a sign to stop or face her wrath.

Out here, there was no indicator for the game to end, no barrier as to how far they could wander. They could go on forever if they wished to, until they disappeared beyond the edge of the forest, perhaps even past the edge of the world.

And that was how Colette came to be sitting here, in this log that acted as her hiding spot, for the past two hours.

She’d been confident that no one would find her here - this massive log hollowed out by rot that she had only found by complete accident, tripping and tumbling head-first into this space on one of the days that she’d wandered into the fringes of the forest to get away from everything. She’d sat up rubbing her head, hoping there wouldn’t be a bump arising in the next few hours - only to find that she couldn’t see past the entrance of the log, wreathed in deep green, the overgrown leaves hiding her away from the world. Crawling out had revealed that the entrance was completely obscured, nigh invisible to someone who didn’t already know it was there.

It had become her go-to spot, when she just needed to be alone, to bury her face in her knees, let the weight of everything press down fully and leave her in the form of sobs that wracked her shoulders, her back trembling, here where no one could hear her.

Past the river, turning right at the stone that resembled Noishe, pushing past the branches that scratched at her skin.

The same path she had followed as Lloyd had bellowed out the countdown, hands cupped over his mouth and voice audible even through the denseness of the forest.

She’d sat here, relaxed with her legs stretched out before her, feeling ever so proud of herself. Her first game of hide-and-seek, and she would be clinching the victory!

That certainty had given way to doubt as time continued its inexorable march, each second almost tangible as Colette struggled to keep track of them. It felt like they were all piling atop each other, her mind sluggish as her eyelids grew heavy. The cold wasn’t helping matters - the morning had certainly started off more chilly than usual, but it hadn’t been this bad. The temperature must have plunged since she’d gotten here, and it was enough to make her huddle her knees close to her chest, rubbing her hands together as she shivered.

She knew she’d been here for too long, but she didn’t want to leave, an uncharacteristic stubbornness gripping her. It wasn’t fair that she was the one who had to leave and risk getting tagged! That would mean immediate defeat!

It wasn't fair... But nothing was fair...

No, she would stay here, she decided, clinging on to the idea of victory, of winning the bet that she’d made with Lloyd. She would be the one to snack on the last of Grandma’s odd number of baked cookies! No more would she have to duel Lloyd for the rights to it, a duel that usually ended with the two of them rolling across the ground, each aiming to subdue the other with tickles. The victorious would get to experience a delightful sweetness that melted in the mouth, while the loser had to watch the final mouth-watering cookie disappear.

She would spare herself the trouble this weekend by deciding things, here and now.

The heaviness continued to press on her, however, no amount of painting imaginary scenes of playful dogs on the walls keeping it away. The darkness claimed her not soon after, head falling slack against the wood behind her.

~~~

She awoke with a violent sneeze, the shivers returning in full force as she wrapped her arms around herself.

She registered a thudding sound overhead, and glanced up with bleary eyes. It appeared that sometime during her sleep, the heavens had opened up. It would certainly explain why it was so cold.

The roof appeared to be leak-free, thankfully, though there was a shallow layer of water filling the bottom of the log, even more slowly seeping in through the entrance. The bottom of her white robes was submerged, and she knew they’d be heavy if she attempted to stand, water falling off her in rivulets.

Colette had to concede by now that staying in here wasn't as comfortable as she'd once thought it would be, her legs starting to cramp from being squeezed in this position for so long.

Where were Genis and Lloyd? Was Genis still hiding, or had he been found? And what about Lloyd? Was he still running around everywhere, poking his head in every nook and cranny, peeking around every corner, trying his very best to find her?

Or had he given up entirely?

That last thought sent something dark crawling into her heart. And no matter how much she told herself that it was just a stupid fear her tired mind was conjuring up, for she knew she wouldn't be stuck in here forever, knew that she would most certainly be seeing her friends again... It was futile. The cold could only spread, a cold deeper than the shivers she currently felt.

She was alone here. Alone, in a way she hadn't been for a long time. She hadn't realised, just how much she would miss the company of her friends when they weren't by her side.

Was this what it would feel like, once she left everyone behind? She would be all alone then too. Where no one could see her, or hear her, or even know where she was... Where the only thing she knew would be silence, eating away at her...

She buried her face in her knees, but there were no tears this time. She was too tired to move, and it felt like she was gradually becoming as motionless as the wood that surrounded her.

Slowly rotting…

The rustling of leaves at the entrance gained her attention, her head raising as she realised that the thudding had grown significantly softer in the time that had passed.

She watched, as slowly, a hand poked through the curtain of green, followed by a familiar head of brown hair, and then the entire body of a boy, tumbling to a stop before her. It was almost strange to gaze upon a human again after not seeing one in so long, but it was just Lloyd. Familiar old Lloyd, if a very drenched Lloyd, hair falling into his eyes and clothes two shades darker than usual.

"I finally found you! Wow, this is a good hiding spot," Lloyd said in a whisper as he picked himself off the floor, unwilling to talk loudly in the sacred confines of the log. Only to bang his head against the top of it, letting out a little squeak as he quickly sat down, rubbing his head sheepishly.

"It's my private little spot," she whispered back, smiling at Lloyd’s antics. The words felt a little foreign in her ears after such a long period of silence, but it felt good, to finally say something. To hear her voice again.

"Oh! Sorry for intruding..." The tip of Lloyd’s ears flushed a little red, his expression shifting minutely. Why, she didn’t know.

She only knew that it made giggles burst out of her, the strange misery that had been filling her chest vacating instantly like it had never been there, the hole it left behind filled with that bright happiness she always felt in Lloyd's presence. "Don't be silly, Lloyd. I'm glad you found me.”

I was starting to think you never would…

"I'm glad I found you too! I promise, I'll always find you!" Lloyd declared with a confident grin, his hand grabbing hers. And despite the droplets of water rolling down his hand - for he must have been looking for her even in the heavy rain - his fingers were so, so warm. She couldn’t help but grip onto his hand tightly, letting the ever-present warmth he exuded chase away the cold biting into her bones, let it stop the shivers, even if for just this moment.

“Now, let’s go home,” he said gently, leading her out into the open, the word “home” echoing in her heart. Always leading her, with her hand in his. It was how she knew she was safe.

In the outside that she’d nearly forgotten existed, rainwater dripped from leaves, creating an almost mini-shower that landed on her face and made her blink.

“Where’s Genis?”

“Oh, he was hiding by the riverside. I found him pretty quickly! He’s gone home. But, uh,” Lloyd muttered, averting his gaze. “Your father’s here. You’ve been gone for quite a while.”

“I see…” she murmured, head bowing.

Father would no doubt scold her harshly once she got home. The Chosen wasn’t supposed to partake in such frivolous activities, not least ones that endangered her. Such irresponsible behaviour wouldn’t be easily forgiven by the Church.

“It is my fault for not setting a time limit! Dad’s hammered that into my head already, so I can just tell your father that!”

“No, it’s fine,” Colette replied, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I was the one who decided to stay in there for so long.” She couldn’t even explain it now, why the need to do so had been so strong, so insistent. It had been a foolish thing to do.

Some strange act of defiance, nothing more than a childish impulse - the kind not allowed of the Chosen.

“Hey, it’s not that serious!” Lloyd retorted, chasing away her thoughts as the two of them fell into a playful argument that lasted until they left the darkness of the forest and stepped back into the dim light of the evening, washing the world in a coat of warm orange and pink.

Most people would label this a terrible experience. One that ended in Father berating her, and both her and Lloyd falling victim to a terrible cold, as Genis lamented having gone along with everything.

Yet she cherished it anyway. The aftermath wasn’t all bad, after all. Lloyd had recovered first, and spent the days where she remained on bedrest sitting by her bedside, feeding her cookie after cookie, taking none for himself. “A treat,” he exclaimed, waving another cookie in the air and dropping crumbs everywhere as she alternated between sneezing and laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

And she couldn’t help but paint the promise Lloyd had made into vivid memory, memorise the warmth of his hand.

Though she never did figure out how he found her.

The answer to that question continued to elude her in future hide-and-seek games, where Lloyd never failed to sniff out her hiding place, no matter how hard she tried. Scarily fast too. Maybe he just possessed a good eye?

In response to her grumbling and pouting, he would only grin. And declare, “Because I'm the best seeker around for miles!"

He never made mention of the promise he’d made her. To him, surely it must have been nothing more than a trivial turn of phrase, not to be taken seriously and easily forgotten.

That was alright. It was enough for only her to remember, and to continue having fun with her friends, in the time she still had left.

~~~

"Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Lloyd, glad to feel his warmth again after weeks of empty coldness. "For... finding me."

How strange of her, to put it that way. What Lloyd had done was tirelessly work to restore her soul, to let her take control of her body again instead of being locked behind a thousand chains. But it truly felt like he had reached into the darkness and found her, pulled her out into the light.

Just as he’d done when they were little children still filled with naive hope, in the hollow of a log. And countless times after. Always leading her, back into safety, back into the world, back home. Sometimes playfully, sometimes desperately, but always, always ensuring he never let go.

She felt Lloyd's laughter reverberate through her, shaky but full of joy.

"I promised, didn't I? That I would always find you."

How silly, she thought, burying her face in his chest as laughter shook her shoulders as well. How silly that he would still remember such a trivial little promise. How silly of the both of them. Like it meant the world to him in the same way it did to her.

His hands resting on her back, he pulled her closer, and she could not be any more at peace.

Here, where she was safe in his arms. Here, where hope still shined strong, and childish joy still thrived.

Here, where she never needed to hide, and so would never be lost again.

[lunarsaga]

Chapter 6: The Poison Master

Here it is, Chapter 6!

Chapter 7 is in the works, and will be going up on patreon soon! Stay tuned and follow me on Twitter for updates!

Don't forget that this is meant to read like a graphic novel, meaning the art pieces are part of the story and aren't meant to be skipped!

Also trying a new thing! "========" <- Lines like this are scene breaks "// ~ ~ ~ \\" <- and these are perspective changes!

ENJOY, MY LOVES! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

===========================================

“I’m going after Jakotsu.”

It was said with such confidence—the confidence of a man who had not just been struggling to keep himself from getting sliced to pieces by an undead murderer that kept trying to flirt with him—that Luna just had to wonder if it was really Inuyasha saying it. (It was, of course. She was just being sarcastic.)

“That’s funny, I thought I just heard you say you were going after that psychopath.” Luna said to the half-demon. She idly pulled her hair down from her ponytail and began to weave it into a loose braid.

“I am!” Inuyasha said, indignant. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Yes, but Inuyasha,” Miroku interjected, “aren’t you worried about that poisonous gas?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Thoughtful, Miroku glanced off in the direction where they’d encountered the first of the Band of Seven. The cloud had almost entirely dispersed, but if you looked hard enough, you could still see wisps of the toxic smoke drifting into the sky. “Well, Jakotsu seemed to know something about it.”

“You’re right…” Inuyasha said, “You think it’s another member of the Band of Seven?”

“Could be…” Sango mused, “but didn’t Jakotsu seem to be in danger himself? Why would a member of his own team endanger him?”

“Infighting?” Luna guessed, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “They’re ruthless mercenaries, I wouldn’t expect them to be one big bloodthirsty family… Unless…” She tilted her head, trailing off in thought.

“Unless what…?” Kagome asked, looking at her sister in concern.

Luna paused another second, still deep in thought as she began to weave her hair into a loose braid. “I mean… If Jakotsu knows the guy? He probably knew that there was still time to avoid the poison. He did tell Inuyasha to get out of the way, remember.” Only Inuyasha, but still.

Inuyasha turned away from the rest of them, uncrossing his arms. “Whatever the case, I’m not letting him get away. You all stay here, and stay safe.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Luna called after him as he ran off.

“You’re one to talk.” Ai snorted, earning her a gentle kick from the Hunter sitting next to her.

Kagome stood from where she’d been rifling through her bag, holding a nearly-empty plastic bottle. “Ah, we’re almost out of water… I think I saw a well on our way over here, I’m gonna go fill this up.”

Luna arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Is going off on your own a good idea when there’s a bunch of killer zombies in the area?”

Kagome sighed, smiling back at her. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far. Shippo, why don’t you come with me?” Shippo grinned and jumped into Kagome’s bike basket as she got it on the road. “You should show Sango your crossbow, Luna.”

“Crossbow?” Sango asked.

“Ah, yes, I’m actually interested in seeing how it works up close,” Miroku said, “I saw you use it on Jakotsu, it was impressive.”

Luna smiled and shook her head. “Alright, be safe, Kagome.” She hoisted up the crossbow to show her friends how the arms unfolded, getting a little chuckle out of it when the two of them jumped.

“It does that all on its own?” Sango asked as Luna handed it over to her. She was unsure where to hold it for a second, but Luna showed her how.

“Yep, they’re spring-loaded, so they just pop out,” Luna explained.

Luna went on to answer all sorts of questions about it, and while Sango and Miroku (and even Kilala) seemed interested in the strange contraption, Ai had heard it all before, when Luna had first returned to this world with it. She stretched herself out, her tail fluffing itself out as she curled up against a warm rock. Mmm… warm… Her eyelids began to droop as she got comfortable there; it had been such an exhausting day already…

But as she was about to drift off, she took a deep breath, and a rancid smell hit her nose. She jolted upright with a disgusted hiss, trying to find where the smell was coming from.

“Ai?” Luna asked, “What’s up?”

Kilala seemed to pick up on the scent too—something foul was drifting in the air. The elder cat demon transformed into her full form, and Ai stood, hair bristling.

“Something doesn’t smell right.”

Luna picked up on the tension right away, and her thoughts immediately went to her sister. “God damnit, Kagome...” She hissed, going to her backpack and rifling through it.

“Kagome’s in trouble?” Miroku stood, worried.

“The smell’s coming from the same direction she went,” Ai said.

“And the smell could be that person with the poison,” Sango had already grabbed Hiraikotsu and was putting on her Slayer’s mask. “We don’t wanna take any chances—it’s too bad I only have one of these…”

“No worries, I’ve got these. Here, Miroku.” Luna pulled a medical mask out of her kit to hand it to her friend. “It won’t do much, but it’ll at least keep you from inhaling anything.”

“Thank you, Luna—what about you?”

Luna held up something from her bag: her own mask. It was a military-grade gas mask with a clear face shield, modified to fit a Hunter’s needs. “This one’s mine. It’s made specifically for Hunters like me,” She said as she slipped it over her head. She was well aware that to the locals she might look like a demon, but fuck if she cared; her sister was in danger. The first thing in hand was her crossbow, and she grabbed her ammo bag as she was taking off running.

As it turned out, they were right to call the masks, but Luna certainly didn’t expect to find an entire village choked with poison like a deadly mist. It was barely past lunchtime, and they’d already seen so much death—it was disheartening to see bodies strewn everywhere. But through the mist, they could see Shippo rolling on the ground and coughing, Kagome crouched on her hands and knees, and some weird little figure looming over her. (Well, maybe looming was a strong word. The guy was like three feet tall.)

Sango didn’t hesitate to swing Hiraikotsu; the first swing shattered the poison bottle in the creep’s hand.

“Stay back!” Shouted the little toad of a man.

“Like hell I will,” Luna snarled, aiming her crossbow at the poison master. “Step away from my sister. Now.”

Shippo was finally able to scramble to his feet, and, unsure of what else to do, proclaimed: “I’ll go get Inuyasha!” and took off running.

“Ai, go with him!” Luna said to her friend. The Bakeneko hesitated a moment, worried, but then shifted into her full form and took off after the young fox demon.

“He had to be the one behind the smoke,” Miroku said, of the poison master, “Which means he must be another member of the Band of Seven!”

The laugh that exited the little man made Luna want to vomit. “Yes! I am Mukotsu, Poison Master!”

“Then tell me, Mukotsu, someone must have resurrected you all,” Miroku continued. “Is Naraku behind all this?”

“Hehehehehe, couldn’t tell you! You’ll have to ask the Captain…” He trailed off, reaching back into the little box he was carrying on his back and quickly retrieving another bottle of poison. “Should you survive, that is!”

Luna wasn’t about to give him another second to unplug the bottle. She tried to step toward her sister again, but she only got to fire once before her vision was blocked by powerful black smoke that ejected towards them. Kilala—completely unaffected by the poison, it seemed—jumped in front of Luna to block the bulk of it.

“NO!” Luna shouted, trying to see around the giant Nekomata, “Kagome!”

Luna felt the crushing weight of helplessness almost immediately. That was her sister, helpless and about to pass out, and she couldn’t help. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t do… anything.

It was less than a minute until the smoke cleared, but it felt like an eternity. When she could see again, it only confirmed what she already knew: her sister had been taken. She knew her mask would’ve filtered out whatever the poison was made of, but her legs were still shaking. Not with pain, not with shock… but with pure, unbridled anger. Her lungs could only draw in sharp, furious breaths.

Lock it up, she told herself. She focused the energy buzzing around in her head on keeping herself contained—as best she could. Her face was solid as stone, and she snapped into work mode. She needed to make sure Sango and Miroku were okay—she could just see them again through the dissipating smoke. She looked them both over quickly, trying to make sure they hadn’t been affected.

“We’re alright, are you okay?” Sango asked her, “Where’s Kagome?”

“Gone.” Luna said flatly. “Let’s move. That little freak couldn’t have taken her far.”

“We should go back to where we were first,” Miroku suggested. “I have a feeling we are going to need the rest of both of your supplies.”

==============================================

When Kagome regained consciousness, she was in a completely different place. Her vision was still blurry—all she could make out was a wooden floor beneath her, and a hearth a few feet away. She tried to reach up to rub her eyes, but her arm wouldn’t move. She blinked, but her eyelids were so heavy. That was the only movement she could manage, and it was like trying to lift blocks of concrete.

My body… I can’t move…! She could feel her heart pounding in terror. She was trapped, in the worst way possible.

That guy—the “Poison Master” guy—he was a member of the Band of Seven. He’d done something… She could hear him, a few feet away from her, cackling in a way that made her stomach turn.

“We’re surrounded by a barrier of poisonous gas,” He uttered as he moved closer to her, “no one can disturb us!”

If she could move her face, she would have winced in disgust. This guy was creepy to the extreme—she knew in the back of her mind that if Luna were here, she would’ve kicked the absolute crap out of him. Kagome wanted to, too, but…

The Poison Master—Mukotsu, that’s what his name was, wasn’t it?—he kept chuckling as he grabbed Kagome’s chin. “Such a rare beauty—I’m so fortunate getting married to such a pretty girl~”

MARRIED? Kagome felt sick.

“You see, believe it or not,” Mukotsu reached up to remove the cloth mask covering most of his face, “there are some that find me unattractive.”

And no wonder, she thought as she was able to take in his full visage. He looks like a toad!

Kagome had no option but to physically abide by the “bridal preparations”; she felt like a ragdoll. It was humiliating. Surely her friends were coming—lord knows Luna would tear the countryside apart just by herself to find her, and if Shippo went to get Inuyasha? Kagome knew she was going to be okay, eventually, but she wasn’t about to just sit here and let this creep treat her like an object.

I have to find a way out of here, she thought, resolute. But how…?

She couldn’t move her head more than a little, but as Mukotsu was trying to dance her around for a “Marriage Ceremony” (gross), she caught sight of something glinting in his neck.

That has to be a Jewel Shard! If I can just get it somehow… Now she had to figure out how she was going to do that. Thankfully, the Universe provides. Mukotsu returned her to the floor after their “marriage dance”, this time directly facing the hearth, and she saw her opportunity: sticking upright out of the ashes was the fire poker. Now if I can just grab it...

Then, like a miracle, help finally arrived. “Arrived”, meaning “crashed through the roof”, but her friends and her sister arrived all the same.

“Kagome!” She heard Sango’s voice first, right next to her. Her friend helped her roll over, and from there Kagome could see her sister and Miroku: Luna had her crossbow ready to fire, pointed at Mukotsu—and she had on this odd-looking mask. Something from her arsenal, no doubt.

“Kagome, are you alright?!” That was Miroku.

There was a click as Luna drew back the crossbow’s string, ready to fire. “Get the fuck away from my sister.” Her voice was gravely steady—she almost didn’t sound like herself.

“How dare you interrupt our wedding ceremony!” Mukotsu grabbed one of his poison jars.

“Oh, so you wanna die, then!” Luna snarled.

Sango stood, quickly drawing her katana and brandishing Hiraikotsu like a shield. “Luna, leave him to me! Get Kagome away!”

No time to argue. Luna growled and stooped to grab her sister, just as Mukotsu unleashed the contents of the jar. Kagome watched Sango and Miroku stagger back, before Luna rolled her out of the way.

As the poison billowed around the room, Kagome felt her fingers regain some motor control. As her sister pulled up the hood of her flannel shirt to try to shield them from the cloud, Kagome managed to tug on it.

“The Shard…” Kagome managed to utter. “In… his neck…”

She saw the realization in Luna’s face, and the older girl nodded. “Got it, aim for the throat. Try to hold your breath, sis, I’ll have everyone out of here in a sec.”

“Those masks of yours won’t help!” Gloated the Poison Master, “This poison enters through the eyes and skin!”

“God damnit!” Kagome could only watch as her sister swore and staggered. Sango and Miroku had already fallen to the floor, and Luna was clearly not going to last much longer, either.

I have to help! Steeling her resolve, Kagome forced her hands to move. Come on, body… move! She pushed herself up just enough to grab the poker from the fireplace.

// ~ ~ ~ \\

Luna refused to crumble. She stood between her sister and Mukotsu, stumbling and shaking but still able to raise her crossbow. But with her arms getting weaker by the second, aiming steadily was getting pretty damn hard. Still, if she could just hit the bastard…

She was only able to let off one bolt, and the force of it sent her staggering backwards, until she stumbled into the wall and hit the floor. She felt sick; she doubled over onto her hands and knees, her vision drifting between blurry and straight up red. She was not going to be defeated by this lowlife.

You keep fighting, kid. No matter what happens, you keep fighting.

The voice echoed in the back of her mind, a voice she knew all too well. Her arms couldn’t hold her up anymore, but as she watched Mukotsu get closer to her sister again, she pushed herself away from the wall. Tears in her eyes, she struggled a few feet across the floor on her stomach to grab her crossbow again. She saw her sister, finally getting her strength back, stab the motherfucker in the throat. She wanted to cheer for her, but that would have to wait.

Mukotsu smacked Kagome back to the floor, which only fueled Luna’s rage. Her crossbow was ready to fire—but damn, she couldn’t see through the cloud of poison! It was starting to fog up the face shield on her mask, making it even harder to aim. But with the fucking creep trying to choke her baby sister out, she had to fight.

Dammit!

Luna took a deep breath, ripped the mask off, and got in position to aim—which was a tall order. Everything was fuzzy and she was mere seconds from passing out. She saw the light of the jewel shard (was that what that weird glow was?) and aimed for it. She only had one shot, it had to be enough. She hoped it would be enough. She let the bolt loose… and heard Mukotsu cry out.

She could barely see, barely breathe, barely move—but… wait… that glow wasn’t the Jewel Shard after all, was it? This glow was a sickly sort of green. And there was a lot of white behind it. Was she… was she seeing things? Was that….

“Kags…” Her voice was weak as she tried to crawl toward her.

“Luna…!” Kagome was still just as weak, but managed to shift toward her sister.

“Tell me, is Inuyasha here?”

Kagome turned back toward the powerful demon who stood over them, completely unaffected by the cloud of poison. Luna followed her gaze, and for a second she thought she was hallucinating; she could’ve sworn, even in her delirium, that she saw the bolt she fired buried deep in Sesshomaru’s shoulder. The end of it was letting off little sparks of purple light that quickly faded—but Luna’s vision was finally going out. She could hear her sister calling her name one more time before she fully passed out and crumpled to the wood floor.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH64

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 64: Seed of Slaughter (III)

The airship gave a whistle when the ship started, and the airship that looked like an old ship at sea moved. The Qi Leren sitting in the cabin moved his body uncomfortably, waiting for the airship to lift off and fly to the main body of the Village of Twilight across the sea.

Sunset Island, where players lived in compact communities, was strange to Qi Leren, because he had never been to Sunset Island in the game, but had taken on many quests on the mainland where NPCs lived in compact communities. Today, he would go there because of one such quest.

A quest that probably involved the main plot of Nightmare World.

Although attempting the main quest now was basically equal to dying, the pre-task was mainly running errands and getting familiar with NPCs, and there was no danger before going to the Holy City, so he would just start doing it while he’s free now.

The airship flying in the air made the roar of mechanical operation, and Qi Leren looked at the sunset outside the small round window with his cheeks propped up, which was different from the mood of when he had sat in an airship the first time. This time, he had no curiosity and excitement, but was empty and faint.

He guessed that this was a repercussion left by the last mission, and his luck in both missions had been bad. After listening to the task of the Witchcraft Sacrifice, Dr. Lu expressed sympathy to him, and repeatedly stressed that the quests for general newcomers were relatively simple. If all the tasks were calculated according to the same difficulty he encountered, 90% of players would be killed in the first mission.

The next task was chosen by Dr. Lu -- he insisted that his luck could crush that of ten Qi Lerens. They could choose some easy and high-rewarding tasks to finish while they were still in the preferential period for newcomers. Qi Leren had no objection to this, as he already knew his own luck very well.

From time to time, there were guests moving around in the airship. When looking around, they were all young people who were about his age. Were they players? Bored, Qi Leren tried hard not to look at this group of people too suddenly, guessing their age, character and time they entered the game.

A tall and beautiful woman returned to the cabin from the mess hall, with a cup of boiling water in her hand, and white water vapor emitting from the transparent glass. She closed the mess hall door behind her, and then walked towards an empty seat nearby.

Qi Leren's line of sight followed her, his full stomach made him sleepy, and his thinking was dull. He casually compared this beautiful girl with the goddess, and then woke with a start and suddenly remembered that Ning Zhou was a man.

He had repeatedly restrained himself from thinking about Ning Zhou again and again, and let his dead first love stay in the underground palace forever, just as if he had had a short and beautiful dream, but he still couldn't help but think of…

This uncontrollable situation made him depressed.

The young woman walked to the vacant seat and hesitated a little, because in the small area of eight chairs around a table, a man in a cloak was facing the direction in which she was walking to. She instinctively didn't want to go near this stranger who disguised himself, but there were people everywhere else, so she sat down.

Qi Leren looked at the cloaked man from a distance, and he didn't like this kind of cloaked man either, which reminded him of the last accident on the spaceship. Two outlaws threatened the passengers to die together and coerced everyone to hand over ten days of survival.

The woman sat down, took a sip of hot water, put the glass cup on the table, and the water surface swayed slightly with the airship. She still didn't want to have more contact with this suspicious cloaked figure, so she moved to the seat inside, sat on the corner diagonal from the cloaked man as far away as possible, and the position against the wall gave her a little sense of security. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a nap, waiting for the airship to land.

The traveler in a cloak put his hands on the table and folded them neatly. His hands were thin, and there was a black totem on the back of his hand near his wrist. Under the magnificent sunset, the totem looked like it was climbing out of his sleeve, winding and twisting.

Qi Leren wasn't sure if he was dazzled. Just then a few travelers walked past him and tried to sit down on the table and chair beside him, blocking his view.

A crisp sound. The sound of broken glass, and Qi Leren’s heart shook.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly stood up.

A loud noise instantly quieted down the cabin, and everyone looked at the place where it came from. The cloaked man that Qi Leren had noticed stood straight like a scarecrow, and countless black thorns and vines emerged from under the cloak, and the sword nailed the young woman to the wall.

At the moment before her death, she should have been extremely shocked. The glass placed in front of her had been broken by the thorns. Even before she could struggle, she was stabbed through her body and limbs by the black thorns, and blood splashed everywhere.

There was an uproar in the cabin, and the frightened crowd panicked to get away from the murderer's side, but the murderer seemed to have no consciousness of killing. Instead of moving, he stood in front of his seat frozen, then slowly turned around, his face covered by the cloak shrouded in shadow, and his expression could not be seen clearly.

Qi Leren, whose heart beat faster, noticed his hands. His skinny hands were covered with totems.

What was that thing?

That bunch of hard thorny vines retracted like springs back into the murderer's cloak, and the crucified body lost its support and fell, making a dull noise.

The sound of it falling to the ground kicked off the feast of death. In the next moment, the calm cabin turned into a bloody Asura field, and the shouts collided with the instruments that were played at random, playing a symphony of death. There was chaos in the cabin, and several thorns and vines shot out from under the cloak of the assailant, attacking innocent travelers unscrupulously, and blood flowed everywhere.

Someone shouted: "It's a seed of slaughter, the seed of slaughter in him has awakened!"

The cloak of the assailant was torn by thorns, and the hood on his head quietly fell, revealing a thin and ferocious face. Like his hands, those horrible black totems have covered his whole face, from forehead to chin, everywhere, thickly dotted.

A few skilled travelers began to fight against him, and more people hid in the corner. In the chaos, Qi Leren was at a loss. Several fleeing passers-by ran past him and pushed him in their panic. Qi Leren stumbled and fell ungracefully under the table.

There was a loud noise on the table, followed by shrieks. The man who pushed him away just now was nailed to the wall by several black thorns. The fallen Qi Leren reluctantly climbed out from another direction. As soon as he looked up, he saw several thorns again. They nailed a traveler who had just wrestled with the assailant to the ground, less than half a meter away from him.

The traveler was not dead as a doornail. He struggled while twitching, with more and more blood leaking from his mouth. However, the strength behind his struggles became less and less, and he finally lost his life slowly.

He was dead.

The chaos in the cabin continued, and Qi Leren was afraid to stand up. He crawled under the table and chair carefully, and there was a burst of shrieks and fleeing sounds above his head. From Qi Leren’s perspective, he could only see pairs of fleeing legs and bodies lying on the ground. How long could hiding like this work? If no one could stop the murderer, it would be his turn sooner or later, and avoiding blindly couldn’t solve the problem. This reality had taught him too many lessons like this.

A popping explosion sounded, and Qi Leren saw someone throw something similar to the miniature bomb in his inventory, but it was blown away by the thorns of the assailant, and exploded with a roar, which was far less powerful than the miniature bombs, but killed several innocent players.

Throwing a bomb couldn’t hurt him at all. It must be closer, closer!

Another scream sounded closeby, and Qi Leren finally made up his mind.

Come on, use all your might!

Qi Leren clasped his last miniature bomb in his hand, rolled out from under the table, and saved!

A thorn grazed his face and plunged into the ground of the cabin. Qi Leren propped up his body to avoid another thorn coming towards him. He did not dare to throw the last miniature bomb at will. He would rather face the pain of dying himself and make sure that one blow would kill him.

Close, very close!

Several passengers closest to the cloaked man had formed a protective enchantment, trying to hold on, and the milky barrier light hanging over them was getting dim under the attack of the thorns, while the cloaked man is crazy, waving his arms, and countless thorns drilled out of his clothes, spreading around like a black wave.

Less than five meters from the cloaked man!

Qi Leren hooked his hands on the table in front of him and flipped it. Two thorns that flew by him were violently stabbed into his hand, and a sharp pain spread in his wrist. The miniature bomb fell from his hands--

Regardless of the danger, Qi Leren let himself tumble to the ground, picked up the miniature bomb and continued to rush forward. Several people who were enveloped by the enchantment looked at him in shock, like he was a madman. Qi Leren rushed to the cloaked man regardless, and he finally noticed that this audacious man wore a strange smile on his non-human face.

More, more thorns came towards him.

Come on!

Qi Leren held the bomb and smiled at him with a certain victory.

There was a loud bang and the bomb exploded.

Amid the smoke and screams, Qi Leren was loaded back to the table. He wiped his eyes that were wet with smoke and dust. A gust of wind poured in from outside the cabin, and Qi Leren opened his eyes wide.

The place of the explosion had been near the edge of the cabin, and a big hole with a width of two or three meters was blown out of the wall. The sea wind poured into the cabin, blowing away the smoke and dust.

Black thorns covered the explosion like a spider's web, and wrapped the assailant firmly inside.

Those horrible and disgusting thorns squirmed slowly, like countless black bugs, slowly spreading out, revealing the bloody body of the murderer.

He slowly raised his head. Having lost his eyelid, his eyeball hung from the eye socket, making his already strange face more terrifying.

The eyeball turned and fixed on the place where Qi Leren was.

He smiled grimly.

-----

The author has something to say:

PS: To put it simply, the Nightmare World is like an online game, players are online at the same time and can't go offline. The main world quest affects the game process and all players. For example, if a group of players kill one of the Three Devils, the Vatican in the main world may be happy. Even if these players die, they are part of the history of the Nightmare World, because he participated in the history of the main world. Other tasks that are not in the main world are like making an instance world, which may be modern, future and eschatological. The Novice Village hospital is this type, which does not affect the main world, but only affects the players who participate in this task.

In addition, NPCs know that players are different from them. Players are strange foreigners in their eyes. The Vatican knows more and knows that they come from other worlds. But they don't think it's a game, because it's their world. And in the eyes of NPC, players are just strange people.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[captaindodson]

To the Boy I loved Before (t.h oneshot)

Authors Note: Honestly, I don’t know what inspired this, but since this is my first time writing about Tom I thought I’d make him a dick. 

Synopsis: Why give power to your ex when you can show that you’re doing better off without him.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Angsty my dudes and dudettes (also some fluff?)  

“Miss L/N, Miss L/N! We have arrived.” 

My driver breaks me from my trance. 

“Thank you again, Frank.”

“Anytime Miss L/N, enjoy your night.”

My driver looks up into the rear-view mirror and gives me an eye crinkling smile. I return the smile as my door is opened and I am met a roar of screams. A hand helps me out of the car and another hand helps to make sure my outfit isn’t caught on the door as it slams shut. I’m guided by a man with a walkie-talkie and a clip board to the carpet where all the noise is coming from. As I turn the corner, I stand in awe at the sight before me. 

A large pastel pink staircase is covered in celebrities from reality stars, singers, actors, and models. Each individual wearing expensive, but perfectly designed outfits. Photographers are lined up on both sides of the carpet, but are unable to move any closer due to a waist high barrier. As my eyes swing from one famous person to another, one level to the next, my eyes stop on one man that sticks out like a sore thumb at the top. 

Tom stands in a white suit with his arm around the waist of a woman in a dazzling dress at the front of the entrance of the actual event. He and his date are about to enter the hall, but he turns his head to brush a piece of loose hair around her ear, and that is when he spots me. His eyes light up like a deer in the headlights like he’s shocked I’m here. As I get closer, the words he said to me during our final exchange drip into my mind like it was yesterday. 

“You’re so insecure, you think I would cheat on you? Don’t be delusional, I love you Y/N and nobody else.” 

Step and pose. 

“I don’t know her Y/N.”

Step, pose, and smile.

“She’s just a friend calm down!” 

Step, pose, smile, and wave.

“The love I had for you died months ago. Its been going on for four…..”

I stopped listening to him after the word died had left his lips. My feet started moving on their own up the stairs and into Toms room where I started throwing my stuff into a duffel bag. He trailed behind silently as I quickly grabbed my things through the tears I was trying to hold back. I zipped up my bag, grabbed my laptop and rushed out of the room to the front door in silence to only be met with 3 pairs of eyes. 

“Excuse me,”

I whisper as I push the three bodies out of the way to get my shoes on and attempt to disappear into the streets of London, to eventually get to an airport. No one tries to stop me, no one comes after me, I guess the boys felt the same way as Tom. 

When I returned home every waking minute I begged the universe to tell me what I did wrong to deserve what felt like a life sentence of heartbreak. I cried and cried for months putting my life on the back burner because the pain of it all was too much.The man that I loved for two years strung me along and people who I thought were my friends, were just putting up with me because I was their best mates girlfriend. 

As I stayed buried in my blankets my parents would try and cheer me up with nostalgia of my childhood,  by putting on shows I would constantly quote and bring me my favourite food, but no luck. My friends tried to bring me out to get away from his presence online, but there were billboards everywhere with his face, but also the woman whom he left me for. It became so suffocating felt if I was choking on my own heart.  For two months every day started and ended the same. I would wake up, eat, cry, sleep and shrivel in my own self-pity. It was a cycle that I found comfort in and I was going to let it be my life. Until one person used a much more effective way in helping me get back on my feet. 

“Get up.” 

My older sisters voice breaks the silence of the room. 

“Don’t ignore me Y/N, I know you can hear me.” 

I stick my head out my blankets.

“Yes?”

I grumble out as she kneels down next to my bed and gets right next to my face. 

“Its been two months, this is getting out of control. I know your hurting and I know how much you loved him, but you can’t live like this”. 

I attempt to cover my face with my blanket but she stops me. 

“ You’re Y/N L/N, don’t let that boy determine your worth. He was a piece of shit for giving up on a beautiful and talented girl like you. Are you going to weep for someone that didn’t have the balls to be a man or you gonna show this shit head what the fuck he gave up?”

“I’m gonna weep till all my tears are gone, now leave me alone.”

I flip onto my stomach and shove my face into my pillow. I hear a deep sigh as she leaves my room to let me have my pity party.  Not even what feels like fifteen minutes later, my blanket is ripped off me and I feel a large wave of ice cold water hit the back of my head. I quickly climb off my bed that is now soaking wet. 

“NOW, are you gonna weep all day for a dickhead or are we gonna show this dickhead what he’s missing.”

“I’m gonna-”

She cuts me off. 

“You say option one again, there’s going to be another tsunami in about 6 seconds.”

My sister disappears into the hallway to what I assume is her getting another bucket of ice water.

“UH SIS YOU DON”T NEED TO DO THAT AGAIN!” 

I rushed out my door into the hall to stop her from soaking me and my bed any further. She stands in the hallway with arms crossed. 

“Since I got your attention now, what are you gonna do, Y/N?”

She proposes. I wiped away my wet hair from my face and I took a deep breath before I spoke. 

“Show that dickhead that I’m better off without him.” 

“Good. Now, this journey will be painful and it will suck so much, but all that pain will be worth it when you can finally live your life again.”

The shouting of my real friends bring me back to reality.  I’m now at the top of the large staircase, ready to head into the building where the event is being held. My friends are yelling and waving at me from the other side of the hall with large, wild smiles plastered across their faces. I wave back with the same enthusiasm as I squeeze past fellow attendees to get to them. 

As I am swimming through the crowd I meet Tom’s eyes for a final time that evening. He stares at me, eyes filled with an emotion I cannot read, but who cares. His date seems bothered by this and proceeds to slap him on the chest. He doesn’t react and that’s all I care enough about to pay attention to. I turn my attention back to the people who are worth my time instead of the boy who I loved before.

[outshinethestars]

The Single Greatest Act of Hypocrisy in European History (Hetalia fic)

So, the Berlin wall was down, everyone was reunited, everything was awesome.

Prussia himself was perfectly happy, far happier than he ever expected he could be (Prussia didn’t know why he wasn’t dead, and he didn’t know if he would die, and he didn’t know if his living was hurting Germany somehow, and he didn’t know if his being alive meant that something catastrophic was about to happen to Germany, and he had never been perfectly happy and at peace before and he didn’t know what to do with himself and-).

However, in this modern world of happy perfection there was one great, glaring imperfection .

Hungary and Austria’s love life.

Or rather, lack thereof.

When Prussia had asked Hungary about it (yes, really, he’d asked, okay maybe not directly, but she’d known what he meant) she’d said something about times changing and moving on, and how they were their own nations now and who knew what the future would hold, a relationship could complicate things.

And it had been quite a long time since they were married, and it honestly hadn’t been the happiest of marriages then.  It wasn’t like Hungary needed Austria, seriously, it was Austria who needs him, but Prussia could tell by the way she laughed about it that she still loved him, and sure she was perfectly fine without him, but she missed being with him.  She just wouldn’t admit it.

And of course, Austria, the idiot, had no idea.

The problem, in short, was communication.  Austria and Hungary needed to talk about their feelings (don’t laugh).

So, this wasn’t the first time that Prussia had done this.  It wasn’t even the first time that he had done it to Austria.  Prussia had, in fact written countless fake love letters to Austria over the centuries, posing as all sorts of people, much to other people’s anguish and Prussia’s own amusement.

Prussia had never, however, done this with good intentions before.

It somehow made the whole thing feel morally iffy.

But Hungary was pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t, and Austria was pining.   He wasn’t even trying to pretend not to be pining, because Austria, the melodramatic sop, let his emotions dribble all over the place.  Not, like, loudly, because he was a gentleman, or whatever.  But his pining drooped everywhere, annoyingly obvious if you knew him at all, which Prussia unfortunately did.  He was pining so piningly that his whole country was covered in Essence of Pining, a miasma so thick that it threatened to leak over the border. Ew! Gross! No!  Something had to be done.

Enter the Awesome Prussia.

Prussia was very good at what he did.  The handwriting forgery was not the easy part , but it was the part that Prussia was so practiced at he could almost do it in his sleep.  He’d forged the handwriting of almost every nation in Europe, as well as nations outside of Europe, people who weren’t nations, etc.

The trickier part was the actual content of the letter.  Prussia had written these before, but never like this.  No, this time it needed to be sincere .  No clever insults that are only apparent on second or fourth reading, no subtle undertones that imply that the sender is an idiot, only deep, genuine heartfelt love, the love that both parties felt, but were too stubborn to come out and admit.  Idiots.  (really, don’t.)

The letter to Austria was by far the easier of the two, even though Austria was about as attractive as a damp rag.  Less attractive, actually, damp rags are useful.  Still, it wasn’t too hard to write a fake love letter to him, firstly because Prussia had done it before, and secondly because because as far as Prussia could tell Austria didn’t have the good qualities God gave damp rags, any good qualities he could think of to mention were ones Hungary had told him about, and finally because he knew Hungary pretty well, so impersonating her wasn’t too hard or, like soul-crushingly horrifying or anything.

Hungary, on the other hand, had innumerable good qualities, and Prussia had no idea which ones of them Austria actually appreciated.  And furthermore, writing to Hungary involved impersonating Austria.  It involved getting into the headspace of Austria, it involved getting into the headspace of Austria deeply, amorously in love with his best friend.  Ew!  Yuck!  Who would ever want that ??? Also, Prussia had only written Hungary a fake love letter exactly once.  It was supposedly from Poland, the fallout was fantastic, and Hungary had made him promise, on pain of terror, Never to do that again.

… This was for a good cause, though.  Hungary would forgive him.

… … Right?

He didn’t really need to send a letter to Hungary.  She could see Austria’s egregious pining as well as anyone else.  But still, there’s a difference between knowing and being told outright.  Just because someone knows you love them, doesn’t mean you don’t still have to tell them.  Austria was a wimp.  (...)

Anyway, Hungary wouldn’t be any less furious with him for writing a fake love letter from her, he’d never done that before.  Might as well go all in.

The letter came on a sunny spring morning.  The sky was blue, the birds were singing, everything was beautiful and as it should be.

Hungary’s heart stopped a little when she saw Austria’s familiar handwriting on the envelope.

It was a love letter, and it was so incredibly romantic and heartfelt, that she teared up a little in spite of herself.  She read it through, and then read it again.  

Some highlights include:

“I think of you often.  I think that I have never stopped thinking of you, you who have always held my heart in your keeping.  But now that there are no barriers between us, no physical ones at least, I cannot seem to think of anything else.  My thoughts are always turned towards you, and it breaks my heart to wonder if you ever think of me in return.”

And:

“Though it’s embarrassing, I’ll admit that I spend hours of every day staring out my window, the one that faces you.  I miss you so very dearly.  All my music is mournful, yearning music now, I try to play more cheerful things and my heart is not in it.”

It concluded:

“I don’t know if you have feelings for me still.  I know that we were not married long, and our marriage was not always a happy one. I only write this to tell you how I feel, and to ask: are you willing to try again?  

If you have moved on, if you have no romantic feelings for me, I will understand and accept it.  I cannot promise not to be hurt, but I know such feelings are selfish, and I will hope and endeavor to one day be a better friend to you than I was once a husband.

Yours eternally,

Roderich Edelstein.

Hungary thought of all the reasons she had to not to pursue a romantic relationship.  They all seemed so hollow and empty in the light of Austria’s letter.  She wanted to speak to him in person.  She called him.

Austria, meanwhile, had received his own letter.  He had suspected it was some cruel joke of Prussia’s at first, but upon reading it all doubts left his mind.  The letter sounded like Hungary, it felt like Hungary, and it was such a very kind letter.  He didn’t think that Prussia was capable of such kindness even as a joke.  He had read the letter five times and paced around his house with it held tightly to his chest, as if he could inscribe its words on his heart.  He hadn’t dared to hope.   He had no idea what to do with himself now.  His phone rang.

“Hello,” he said, not sure yet if he was relieved by the distraction or annoyed by it.

“Hello Austria?”  It was Hungary, her voice uncharacteristically shy, “I would like to speak to you.  Could I come over to your house this afternoon?”

“Yes, of course, yes!”  Austria said.  In his heart, he was agreeing to a proposal of marriage.

“I read your letter,” Hungary said, taking it from her pocket.

“My letter?” said Austria, “But you wrote…”

Both of them realized in the same moment.

Prussia will Pay , Hungary thought.

It was like a swooping empty feeling, the realization that all those things in her letter, all those things that had made her heart warm and her eyes tear up, had been empty, hadn’t been real at all.  And almost worse than that, it was a betrayal.  She would never have dreamed that Prussia would do this to her, not like this, not with something he knew she cared so much about.

“Give me yours,” she said to Austria.  Wordlessly, he handed it to her.

She began to read and… She couldn't be angry anymore.

Whereas the letter Prussia wrote impersonating Austria was sweepingly romantic, hers was much more frank.  It detailed her feelings, all of them, as if Prussia had looked inside her mind and scooped them out of her.

“But what do you see in him,”  Prussia had asked her once, it must have been close to a century ago now.  Here were all her answers. Sprinkled in lovingly between all her present hopes and fears.  All the things she’d told him in conversation, and all the things in between that she hadn’t said, but he had recognized all the same.  He had remembered all of it, understood all of it, and put it all into words for her.  She thought it might be, in it’s twisted, Prussia sort of way, the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

It ended thusly:

“I’ve told myself so many times over the past few years that I don’t need you.  And in all honesty, it’s true that I don’t.  But I think that we, as nations, sometimes get too swept up in what we need.  We forget that it’s alright to want things, that what we want matters too.  I don’t need you, but I want to be with you.  I’ve decided that what I want, what we want, is important enough to overcome any difficulties that might come.  

With love,

Hedervary Erzsebet”

He’s right,   Hungary thought, he shouldn’t have chosen for me, but he’s right.

Austria cleared his throat cautiously, “You read this,” he said, holding the letter she’d received in his hands, “and then you came to see me?”

Hungary smiled at him.  What did it matter that it had taken Prussia’s meddling to get here, they were here now.

“I meant this,”  Hungary said of the letter she’d just finished, “every word.  I didn’t write it, but I should have.”

“I would have written this too,” Austria said, “if I’d gotten up the courage.”

“Please, as if you could come up with something as romantic as “ your smile is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, it warms me to my very soul,”’  Hungary laughed. Now that she didn’t feel quite so lied to, the whole thing felt ridiculous,  “Do you really stare out your window in my direction for hours every day?”

Austria blushed, “That could have been an exaggeration.”

“It could have,” Hungary agreed , “but was it?”

“No,” Austria admitted.  Hungary grinned at him.

“You’re adorable,” she said.

“How did he know about this ,” Austria said, hints of outrage coming back to him, as the situation truly sank in.  He pointed to a part in the letter that read,

“ I wrote a piece for you.  I didn’t mean to, it began as something else, but as I wrote it, and as I played it in my house, in the loneliness, every note was for you.  So I scratched out the title and wrote For Hungary at the top of the page.”

“I imagine he broke in and went through your things,” Hungary said.

“He did break in and steal all my underwear once.  And,” Austria added thoughtfully, “Someone has been cleaning the house while I’m not looking.  I thought it might be you?”

“Austria, I love you,”  Hungary said, and oh how easily she said those simple words now that it felt as though her soul had been laid bare, “But I don’t love you nearly enough to be that deranged.  Apparently Prussia does, though.”

“Prussia,” Austria sniffed, “is simply deranged.  I think I’ll start making messes on purpose now.”

“No you won’t.  I’ll be coming here often, and I refuse to be in a pigsty.,” Hungary said.

Austria sighed.  “I suppose I won’t then,” he said,  “Really, though what was the point of all this?”

“The point,” Hungary said, “Was that we, or, well mostly me, were being ridiculous, and he put a stop to it.”

“What, and there’s no ulterior motive?”  Austria scoffed.

Hungary shrugged, “You can keep reading the letters until your eyes bleed, but I doubt you’ll find any.”

Austria shook his head,  “My love life was rescued by Prussia ,” he said, “I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from the ignominy.”

Hungary laughed, “I won’t tell,” she said, “It is an irony, though.  Prussia would die before he’d admit he has emotional needs.  Now, come play me the music you wrote for me.  I’ve been wanting to hear it all day.”

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 22

Summary: Five hundred years before Feyre Archeron is born, the world is much different from the one she lives in. Humans are slaves, seen as little more than animals by the Fae who rule. But things are beginning to change. Talks of rebellion is spreading and on the Continent, some Fae territories begin to consider the potential gain of War. All it takes is one spark and everything will explode.

Masterlist

----

The war keeps raging.

Soon, the days begin to blur together into a never-ending circle of battles, each one more brutal than the last. It seems like each battle ends with more corpses lying on the battlefield after the fighting ceases. Corpses piling high, entire swaths of land reduced to ashes. Sometimes, Miryam feels like the entire world is drenched.

For a few months, the Alliance keeps the upper hand. But before long, the tide begins to turn. They are losing ground and soldiers, far more than the enemy. And suddenly, they are not winning anymore.

Battle after battle, day after day.  Miryam is being sent around more, now. Soon, she begins to cherish the diplomatic trips. They are far better than the days when her help in battle is requested. She hates those days the most (she is not a soldier, she never wanted to be a soldier), but she is their only witch, so there is no choice. Some days, the Loyalists send one of their own witches to battle against her. Even when Miryam does her best to limit herself to wards, those days still end with scorched earth, entire battalions of soldiers dying in the span of heartbeats. It still surprises Miryam that she ends up winning the fights more times than not.

With each passing day, she understands more about her powers. But even though setting up wards, countering spells, now feels as natural as breathing, her magic becomes unwieldy. It feels like with each time she uses it, it slips her control more. It begins tugging at her, pushing her to let go of her control. At first, she thinks nothing of it, but soon, she has to fight for control more and more.

She doesn`t tell anyone about it. Not even Jurian. After all, everyone else is as busy as she is, trying to put out fires left and right. She figures no one really needs her problems on top of their own and with everything that is going on, her trouble with her magic seem so insignificant they are barely worth talking about.

The months bleed together. Soon, the war has been raging for two years. Three. Still, no end of the slaughter is in sight. So they keep fighting. And still, the war keeps raging.

----

They`ve been sparring for close to an hour. It has been raining all day, so they are both soaked to the bone and covered in mud. It is quite annoying, really, but Jurian certainly isn`t about to be the first to suggest that Drakon could put up a shield against the rain. If he`s being honest, he hoped the prince would do it on his own account, but he seems to be just as stubborn as Jurian and by now, they are both wet enough that it doesn`t matter anymore.

After another half an hour, they finally lower their swords. Drakon shakes his wings, sending mud flying everywhere. Then, he flicks his wrist and both him and Jurian are instantly dry.

“Fancy”, Jurian mutters, “If you ever get tired of the Prince-thing, you could still make a living as a hairdryer.”

Drakon laughs and passes Jurian his water bottle. “I think I`ll pass on that offer.”

If anyone would have told Jurian three years ago that he would ever consider a Fae – a prince, no less – one of his closest friends, he would have called the person a madman. But over the past two years, Drakon has truly become one of his closest friends. They share the running of the camp – together with Miryam, of course – and he supposes that could either lead to them becoming enemies or friends.

“Where`s Miryam, anyways?”, Drakon asks.

“Off in Telique. There was some politics stuff that needed to be done, but she should be back soon.” It`s only half the truth. The human queens wanted to see Miryam over some meeting they have planned, but it was supposed to be secret, so Jurian isn`t about to talk about it in the middle of the camp. He passes the water bottle back to Drakon and grins at him. “And while we`re talking about my amazing lover: What about you?”

“What?”

“Well, do you have your eyes set on anyone?” Jurian winks at him. “You and Mor seem to be getting along quite well. Is there anything you aren`t telling me?”

“No”, Drakon says, “No on both counts. I´m friends with Mor, nothing else.”

“Come on, now”, Jurian says, “There has to be someone. Our lives are serious enough as it is, a little joy on the side is good for you. And you really shouldn`t have trouble finding anyone.”

Truth is, Jurian thinks a little distraction would be good for Drakon – and if it turned into something serious, that would be even better. With the War, they are all busy, but Drakon isn`t just trying to keep his army together, but also run a country at the same time. As one of his best friends (together with Miryam, that is), Jurian is a bit worried.

Unfortunately, Drakon shakes his head. “There isn`t anyone. Really”, he says.

“Oh, come on, surely-“

“What are you talking about?”, a voice asks from behind them.

They both turn around to Miryam. She has pulled the hood of her cloak deep into her face to ward off the rain and is jumping from one foot to the other against the cold.

“Uhm…”, Jurian says. He looks to Drakon for help, but he quickly begins brushing some dirt off his wings. Coward. “Boy stuff”, Jurian finishes a bit lamely.

Miryam looks between them, brows raised. “Are you trying to play matchmaker for poor Drakon again?”

“No?”, Jurian says. When Miryam doesn`t look convinced, he throws his hands in the air in expiration. “Fine! I stand by what I said: Him and Mor should give it a try.”

Miryam frowns slightly. Unlike Jurian, she doesn`t seem to think that the two of them fit together, but she never told him the reason. Maybe he should ask her sometime. For all he knows, Mor might be interested in someone else.

“Talking about Mor”, Miryam says, “It`s her birthday in a few weeks.”

“You`re planning anything?”, Drakon asks. He seems eager to take the subject away from his non-existent relationships.

“We haven`t celebrated birthdays in a while”, Jurian points out. Usually, the war doesn`t allow it.

“Exactly”, Miryam says, “We`ve had preciously little to celebrate these past months. Maybe we should change that sometime.”

----

The meeting room is smaller than their usual one Telique. Darker, too. But it serves its purpose well enough, given that it only has to host less than half of the Alliance council`s members and that the meeting is supposed to be secret. Miryam had to spend the better part of the last day setting up wards around the palace a few hours away from Telique that they are using as their meeting place.

“I don`t like this”, she says softly, “If the Fae find out that we`re meeting without them – in secret, no less – it will be considered a political éclat.”

“I`m sure they also have separate meetings of their own”, one of the human queens says.

“Not that I know of.”

“If you are so against this”, Nakia drawls, “then do us all a favour and just leave. I don`t know why you got invited anyways, given that this is supposed to be an all-humans meeting.”

That comment earns her a glare from Andromache and a soft hiss from Jurian, who is sitting to Miryam`s right. Miryam for her part just ignores it. After three years of sitting on the Alliance council, she is quite used to Nakia`s sharp comments. The insults barely even sting anymore.

“What is it you called us here to discuss, then?”, she asks in her best just get this over with voice.

Nakia leans back in her chair. “I think by now, it should be clear to everyone that we are not exactly winning this war anymore. It is past time we take precautions.”

Jurian bristles. “The war is far from decided. It is too early to turn tails and run.”

“Still”, Nakia says, “it is our duty as rulers to think of ways to save our people, should this end badly.” She glances around the room, face grave. “Out Fae allies have less at stake than we do. They might lose some influence, but for us, losing might mean that every human will become a slave. We cannot risk this.”

Murmurs of agreement rise around the table. Miryam nods as well. What Nakia is saying is the truth, but she sees no way to solve that problem. They have always been gambling with high stakes in this war, but there is no other option for them to play the game.

“A good idea”, she says, nodding to Nakia. For all their personal dislike for one another, she can respect the queen`s dedication to her people. “What manner of precautions were you thinking of?”

“That is what I called you here to discuss”, Nakia says.

So they discuss. For hours, or so it seems.

“We`d need a way to keep the Fae out of the human lands”, Andromache says after a while, “Like a wall.”

“Yeah, sure”, Jurian mutters, “Let`s just pile up a bunch of bricks around the human lands. Might slow these bastards down for a total of five seconds.”

Miryam nudges him in the side. They are both tired after a sleepless night spent stuck in another meeting, but Andromache is their friend and ally. Speaking out against her like this is bad form.

“And if we used magic?”, one of the non-royal human commanders asks, “I mean, if we could create some kind of strong magical barrier – like a ward - around our lands, it might serve the purpose.”

“Might be a good idea no matter how this war ends”, someone mutters, “I, for one, would like to keep the Fae permanently out of our lands.”

“We`d still need the Fae for that, though”, another says.

“Not necessarily”, Nakia cuts in.

And suddenly, everybody is looking at Miryam. It takes her a heartbeat to catch on. (Cauldron, she is tired.)

“No”, she says, shaking her head, “I can`t… You`d need an impenetrable ward, able to hold back Fae and withstand their powers. Not only that, but it would need to be thousands of miles long. I don`t even think such a thing is possible.”

“You think”, Nakia says, “You don`t know.”

“Well, I`ve certainly never heard of anything like it.”

“But you haven`t looked into it, either.”

Miryam has to fight to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she says, “No. But even if it was possible, I wouldn`t be able to do it. It would be too complicated.” And with the way her magic is acting recently, she certainly doesn`t want to risk trying. She seems to lose control the more she uses her power, and even trying anything of that size might well be the thing to send her over the edge.

“Are you sure?”, Nakia asks, “Or is it just that you don`t really care what happens to the rest of us, as long as your precious slaves get freed?”

The entire table falls silent. Miryam just stares at her.

“You take that back”, Jurian says softly but with an edge in his voice.

Nakia lifts her chin. “Am I wrong?”

“Of course you`re wrong!” Miryam shakes her head. “I… How can you even say something like this?”

“Nakia”, Andromache says, frowning, “You`re way out of line.”

The queen hesitates for a heartbeat, then shrugs. “Apologies”, she drawls, but the smug expression remains on her face.

“Miryam”, Andromache says hesitantly, “I think we all understand that there are challenges. But it might still be worth looking into, don`t you think?”

Miryam doesn`t want to look into it. Not at all. Unfortunately, everyone else is looking at her hopefully, which means there is no way she can refuse. And even if she could… There are lives on the line. Thousands of them if this war does indeed end badly.

“I`ll do my best”, she says, “But I can`t promise anything.”

----

For the first time in weeks, the camp is quiet. Both Miryam and Jurian are gone for some meeting Drakon isn`t supposed to know about, it has been weeks since the last battle and for once, there aren`t any fires to put out. All letters are answered, his two other armies are fine and Drakon spent the entire day solving the most pressing issues back in Erithia with his council.

For once without anything pressing to do, Drakon has retreated to his tent. The entire table and large parts of the ground are covered in books and papers. Drakon is just finishing up the last paragraph of his thesis when the tent`s entrance opens. As a gust of wind blows in, some of the papers start rustling and he hastily sets up a ward.

“Sorry”, Miryam says and hastily pulls the entrance close behind her. Curiously, she looks around. “What happened here?”

“Oh, uhm…” Drakon surveys the chaos he created. His cheeks heat. “It`s nothing, really. Just something I`ve been working on.”

“Can I see it?”, Miryam asks. She carefully steps over the papers to the table.

“It`s not finished”, Drakon mutters.

And he doesn`t usually show around the things he writes. When he was younger and studying at university, he published a few papers, but no one but a few scholars ever cared about what he had to say, and he hasn`t done it since he became Prince. But Miryam is one of his closest friends these days. If he can show it to anyone, it would be her.

He sighs and hands over the sheets of paper he just finished. “It isn`t edited”, he says, “Just a few thoughts, really. You`ll find it boring.”

“I doubt it”, Miryam says and takes the paper, “You`ve never shown me your writing before.”

Her eyes dart over the pages. Drakon can barely watch as she reads, frowning slightly in concentration. He begins cleaning up his books, mostly just to have something to do with his hands. Finally, Miryam sets down the paper.

“Just a little something?”, she asks, “Drakon, this is amazing!”

Now, he blushes in earnest. “Well…”, he mutters.

“Why don`t you ever let anyone see?”

“I`ve learned my lesson about playing around in international politics, Miryam”, he says, “I`m not making the same mistake twice.”

Miryam, however, is not deterred. (She`s nothing if not determined.) “This isn`t politics, though.” She waves the paper at him. “And something like this could truly make a difference.”

“Wouldn`t it be better if this was written by a human?”

“Yes”, Miryam says, “And if we lived in an ideal world, Fae might actually care about the words of a human. As it stands, though, the word of a Fae – a Fae royal, no less – have far more weight.”

Drakon flares his wings in annoyance and puts the last book on a stack. “And you truly think anyone would listen? To me?”

He knows exactly what most of the Continent thinks of him. Miryam and Jurian may be too polite to tell him of the whispered insults, but his emissary is obliged to inform him of what`s going on in the Alliance.

“Not being able to play by their rules is only a weakness as long as you make it out to be one”, Miryam says, “You could own up to it, stop running. You have enough strengths by far – you shouldn`t let yourself be reduced to one thing you can`t do.”

Well, he can certainly imagine how she managed to create this Alliance from scratch. How she gets Fae who are centuries her senior to do her bidding. For a second, Drakon is almost tempted to give in. But then, the image of his family`s statues on the Mountain of the Dead flashes through his mind. He remembers the absolutely horrible feeling of standing in Ravenia`s palace, knowing fully well that he is messing up every single rule of Continental politics. He imagines what it would be like to join the Alliance council meetings – the whispers and pitying looks. The pretty words hiding sharp insults that he never manages to detect because he just can`t keep the thousands of rules straight.

“No”, he says softly. “I´m sorry, but I can`t.”

Miryam watches him closely. Whatever she sees in his face has her set down the papers. “Alright”, she says and nods towards the entrance. “I was going to visit Rhys to arrange Mor`s party. You want to come?”

Drakon tries not to feel like a coward for refusing. It`s for the best, he tells himself.

“Sure”, he says and offers his arm to Miryam. “Let`s go.”

----

Tags: @sjm-things

[evoedbd]

Red

Summery:   Vivienne gets a wake up call when she finds Nadia holding Silvana on the edge of the roof. Finally, her father's words make some sense, and Vivienne acts on her unspoken threat. So this is basically my take on what might happen after ep 9. I'm so sick of reading all the assumptions that Vivienne is going to royally fuck things up or cheat or some other funky stuff. So, I took it in the opposite direction. ********************************************************************** Red. It was a word Vivienne was intimately familiar with. It was the barrier she put between herself and a lover. It was the only word which could turn her dominance to soothing without question. It was the word Vivienne used when she was trapped, speechless at the potency of invasive questions delivered from delectable lips. It was the full stop, move on. A non-negotiable end of current conversation. Red was the wall between her and discomfort. It was the colour the cape she wrapped around her shoulders when her skin could not bear the brunt of strangers leering or cold breezes. It was the colour of her favourite pair of high heels which helped accentuate her long legs and ample hind quarters. It was the colour of her toxic lipstick, her final line of defence and her control over any who would take the kiss she never truly wished to offer. It was the fate of those who didn’t take heed when they heard Vivienne Tang was poisonous; a viper in human skin, a seductress without a heart, one who would use her body to disable her prey, then claim whatever she desired from them, before leaving them cold, alone and robbed. Red was the colour of emergency sirens, the flashing which accompanied alarms. It was adrenaline, the fire Vivienne wished could burn eternal. Red was anger. It was passion. It was roses, devotion, and romance. Red was everything Vivienne had tried to embody, yet never truly had. Red was the unattainable hovering above the palm of her hand, only to become a ghost should she try to touch it.

Red was the only thing Vivienne could process.

It was the blood roaring in her ears, rushing through her veins as her pulse spiked. It was every alarm screaming in her mind as tainted white threatened to consume her. White suit jacket with nothing underneath. White suit pants sculptured to the woman wearing them. Blonde hair, which turned to shadowy black at the roots. The illusion of light where only darkness lived. White was Nadia. Gorgeous, tall, blazing Nadia. She was a creature of passion and violence, a demon who gladly defiled those too weak to endure the heat of her flames. This was the woman who pursued Vivienne with more ruthless intent than she could ever recall in her life. Nadia was an animal who violated secret after secret, digging deeper and deeper into Vivienne’s head without ever communicating. Nadia was the temptation, the demon with the offer of Vivienne’s lifelong desire. Nadia was also the monster holding Silvana on the very edge of the roof.

There was an old saying, “Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning”. It spoke of bad weather, of hard rains and storms. Perhaps it was why the morning skies were scarred red, bleeding into fiery orange clouds against the skyline of Paris. It felt right. It was the only sunrise worthy to compliment Vivienne’s emotions; the dangerous storm brewing within. Perhaps the world had known this was coming. Perhaps Earth had wanted to warn Paris to hide.  Maybe it was warning the people to lock their doors and bar their windows, to hide from what was to come.

All it took was one look into Silvana’s normally comforting dark hues for Vivienne to snap. She finally fucking exploded. The fear in Silvana’s eyes was the final spark. Vivienne didn’t see the shutdown, startled fear she had when Inez had pushed Silvana to whisper red. It wasn’t the same adrenalized fear seen when guns had been pointed at them. No, what Vivienne had seen was far worse. It was the acceptance that fear was the only reaction, that it was valid and birthed by truth. Silvana’s expression was the fear of someone trying to decide what they feared more. Which fear would claim them? It didn’t matter what she was scared of. Silvana was afraid, and it was enough to make Vivienne act.

Red heels seemed powered by flames as Vivienne closed the distance, her usually controlled expression twisted into something devoid of sanity. Dark eyes became the shadows of hellhounds, perfect lips contorted into snarl to rival the devil himself. Pale features became the mask of the reaper, gleaming beneath the shadows of inky hair.

Her father had told her time and time again not to levy idle threats. He had mocked her, even taking Silvana’s poppy to prove a point. He’d shown her no respect, but he’d taught her something. Never levy idle threats. Nadia had pushed every boundary, continuously showering Vivienne in gifts and flattery that would have lured the seductress away under any other circumstance. Nadia had taken the bait as Vivienne played her role, dragging Nadia’s focus away from The Poppy, away from Silvana. Even as Silvana raged, Vivienne played the game. She thought herself in control, even when Silvana spoke of Nadia’s threats to her. Even in the darkness of the catacombs, in her moment of surrender, she never considered herself as anything but in control. It was a moment she allowed herself to be blinded, to scream how she belonged to another. Then, she’d boldly staked her claim once more, taken control with screamed delights and unspoken threats. Still, she’d been foolish. She had given Nadia one final chance. She’d given Nadia a glimpse of what laid beneath composure and seduction. A glint of the savage darkness Vivienne had never fully given into. One single warning. “Do not threaten Silvana again.” No promise was made, no threat was given. Just that single warning, delivered by the slip of Vivienne’s mask. Nadia had not taken heed, and just like Dean, she had pushed the boundary further. Vivienne was smarter now; more invested than ever before... and Nadia was not her father.

If Nadia wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, Vivienne was all too happy to oblige. Vivienne hadn’t cared to process how she had crossed the distance, nor when Nadia had turned. Before a word could be spoken, Vivienne’s hand had shot out, grasping the opened edge of Nadia’s silken suit jacket. Her grasp was vicious, fingers briefly skimming the naked breast beneath as her fist tightened. The barest tease just a blink before she pulled Nadia close and kissed her.

It was not a chaste gesture, nor was it gentle. It was heat. It was lips and tongue and teeth. It was clashing; violent and sloppy. It was makeup smearing as Vivienne channelled all her rage into a single kiss. It was hatred, the cumulation of months of violated boundaries and tense relationships exploding. It was passion. Nothing else could describe how Vivienne’s spare hand captured a fistful of hair, as close to the roots as possible. Pulling. Demanding. Dragging Nadia’s lips into the perfect position as Vivienne’s tongue plunged into the caverns of the defiler’s mouth. A tongue bearing her lipstick. A wicked tongue which worked to trap her poison behind Nadia’s teeth, down her throat, along every tastebud. Anywhere and everywhere.

There was one moment, a single second in time where Vivienne’s mind echoed with her own words. So many times, she had refused to accept death as the solution to a problem. She had forgiven deeds unforgivable in order to cling to that last semblance of humanity; to prevent herself crossing that dark, unspeakable line everyone in the criminal world faced. She had seen what happened to those who crossed it, even for a second. The darkness on the other side followed them. Haunted them. It was her line in crime. The one thing she couldn’t even fathom doing, even at her most enraged. Then, there was the darkness. Love would have its sacrifice, yet it offered one single mercy: the choice. For Vivienne, it was not even a choice. This woman had crossed the one line Vivienne could no longer forgive. She had gone after Vivienne’s family; she had gone after Silvana. The woman who walked in darkness to follow a light Vivienne thought dead. The Angel who brought worlds to life for all to enjoy, who captured beauty in ways nobody could see until she opened their eyes. Nadia had ignored all the warnings and gone after Silvana.

This time, Vivienne had been unable to put words to her threat, but it was no longer idle. The Viper’s coils tightened, pulled back into an S position as she waited for the perfect moment. Then, Vivienne claimed her penance in blood. Her teeth framed Nadia’s lower lip for a fraction of a second before Vivienne bit down. Hard. Harder than she had ever bitten in her life.

The Poppy didn’t kill, but this was not the Poppy. This was Vivienne Tang.

Even as she bit, she drove her fist forwards, plunging the fangs of her Viper Ring directly into Nadia’s heart.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nadia’s quiet grunts of alarm were piercing compared to the heavy breaths escaping Vivienne. The seductress heaved and huffed, withdrawing from the kiss with blood staining her teeth, her lips and her chin. Her composure was long gone, shattered along with the mask of indifference. Humanity only showed in Vivienne’s gorgeous form, otherwise she was everything people said. Heartless. A seductress, leaving her prey helpless as she claimed what she wanted. A viper with incurable venom.

Nadia groaned, trembling as her legs gave out. She flopped, suspended only by Vivienne’s grasp on her jacket. Her skin was warm against Vivienne’s curled fingers, so painfully soft in ways only a woman could ever be.  In the past, it would have been precisely what Vivienne hunted for.  That softness beneath silken ropes; tangled in knots that Vivienne had created to ensnare her willing victim.  Now, all she longed for was for the warmth to return to Silvana’s dark eyes.  To see chocolate hues unburdened by fear, or doubt, or that awful, unspeakable pain Vivienne was beginning to realise she had put there; that she continued to cause with her own inability to be a normal human being, to be the partner the artist needed.   Vivienne also knew she was precisely what Nadia needed.  With Nadia, she could have been perfect once more.  She wouldn’t have had to gaze into that pain, to spend hours fighting with it in her mind.  She wouldn’t have been burning inside as she tried to understand, or tried to change every behaviour she had created to survive.   Even as she stared down into Nadia’s eyes and saw the potential, she couldn’t choose that easy road.  Every moment Vivienne thought she could step onto that golden pathway to her dreams, she realised the path had turned to muck. The road she was choosing was going to hurt, perhaps she would lose what she was fighting for, but to let Silvana go… it was more unspeakably terrifying than anything else.   She thought that nothingness was her biggest fear, yet it paled in comparison to the moment she had seen Silvana on the edge, the crushing moment she believed she was about to lose her.

Vivienne turned her gaze to Silvana, expecting to see horror etched on her timeless face.  Instead, she found Silvana on her knees, trembling from the adrenaline flooding her veins.  Despite everything, Silvana’s eyes were calm.  Fear had faded, leaving only the endless pool of warmth and acceptance. Of course, Silvana wasn’t afraid of her. Silvana was, perhaps, more insane than any woman she had met and yet the only one who could keep her grounded.   Silvana, the one woman who could endure her kiss, the woman who actively poisoned herself for the chance to kiss her. Silvana was the only one who had seen those shadows in Vivienne and had loved them instead of run.  They were not a negative she tolerated; they were a part of Vivienne that Silvana had begged for.  Silvana had expressed how she wished Vivienne’s poison would flood her veins, until her own body changed to accept it.  Never had Silvana asked Vivienne to leave her life behind, or to change the core of who she was.  She constantly gave to Vivienne, always asking instead of just trying to take.  The only reason she didn’t know what gifts to give Vivienne, because she would never push the boundaries Vivienne had set. She didn’t know things by Vivienne’s own design and did her best to accept the blindfold instead of violating the trust she was given.   Perhaps the light Vivienne was chasing would drive her blind, but as Silvana had pointed out, sight was only one of five senses.  The Gilded Poppy, Vivienne’s family, was enough to enrich her life beyond what she had sought.  And Silvana… she was worth whatever price Vivienne had to pay to keep her.  She was worth enduring discomfort, worth uncovering and facing her true fears.  Silvana was worth letting go of everything for.  All Vivienne had to do was let go.  And so, she did.  With one final look at Nadia, Vivienne Tang let go.

It was not the end Nadia had expected, not an end which would be spoken about for generations of criminals. Not that burst of life before sudden death. It was near silent. Quiet, on the rooftops of Paris as the Sun rose in the sky. There was no fanfare when Vivienne released her jacket, nor when her body fell into a heap. It was... peaceful.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 131: Off Colors

“And this is Lars. He’s all human.”

Forty-seven seconds is an eternity in an eleven-minute episode. Steven and the Stevens (the song) is forty-one. The final scene of Winter Forecast, my favorite in the series, is an even thirty. And when Pearl first poofs in Steven the Sword Fighter, it may take her several weeks in-universe to come back, but it’s only seventeen seconds until Amethyst and Garnet reveal that she’s okay.

Off Colors ends with Lars at his finest, bouncing around from friend to friend to save their lives from an alien drone, culminating in a brave, goofy rodeo show on the robotic menace. He comically yelps as the machine bucks and sprays lasers everywhere, then the baker who was once terrified of letting people try his food yells “Eat this!” as he deals the final blow, solidifying the cartoonish victory we’ve seen time and time again in action shows for kids. But then the drone explodes, and it kills him.

Laramie Barriga, the first person we ever see Steven speak with, the first human who’s ever named on the show, a depressed grouch that has resisted every opportunity to grow but can’t help growing anyway, who after countless false starts has finally seen his inner hero emerge, dies a sudden, violent death. And he remains dead for forty-seven seconds.

False deaths abound in Steven Universe, from Pearl’s aforementioned poofing to the Pink Diamond faking her own shattering. But none feel as visceral as Lars’s, because it isn’t false. He not only dies, but we see his lifeless body tumble to the ground like a rag doll, and must linger with him as the weight of his death settles in. The Off Colors are jubilant at their victory, and their cheers create the discordant atmosphere that so often accompanies death, the shock and confusion as life goes on even as another life ends. Steven is the only person on the planet who understands that humans don’t die the same way Gems do, and he doesn’t need to say a word as he grasps for signs of life and finds none.

According to interviews with the crew, there was some question over when the episode would end, and whether this death would be a cliffhanger. I’m so glad they went with this approach, and not because I think it would be too brutal for young viewers (I was raised on Don Bluth and The Lion King, kids can handle it); reviving him in the next episode would be a pacing nightmare, but reviving him here forces that uninterrupted wait, a moment that can’t be escaped by the episode ending and focusing on something else until the next one comes on. Plus, I’d imagine it helped with the censors to have him come back in the same scene, because I’ve never seen a children’s show portray death with this much physical realism; in the rare instance of a character dying on-screen, it’s always a dramatic affair with a final speech and a last gasp, but Lars is dead before he hits the floor.

The other reason Lars’s death stands out is that even if it’s temporary, it’s permanent. The rules of Steven’s inherited revival powers aren’t examined too deeply, but it’s clear that Lars is no longer mortal in the way he once was. He’s pink, with white hair. He barely has a heartbeat. If he’s anything like Lion, there’s a chance he’ll never age. This and more will be covered in Lars’s Head, but even now, it’s clear that the Lars we knew died on a cold and foreign world, and it’s another Lars that wakes up.

There’s obviously more to Off Colors than Lars’s death, considering the episode is named for the new set of characters that we spend most of our runtime meeting. But its very first line, after another stylish pan down from the title card, is “Lars, are you okay?” Much like The Good Lars appears to be a Lars episode but ends up being about Sadie, Off Colors appears to be an Off Colors episode but ends up being about Lars. Every moment he’s on screen is a reminder that he’s an alien on Homeworld, from his earthly need for food to his battle plans adopted from Jurassic Park to his vital lack of a gem. Even before he literally changes color, he fits right in with the misfits.

But let’s not cut the Off Colors short. It isn’t easy to introduce four distinct characters at once, so each gets a quirk to make them stand out fast. The Rutile Twins have two heads that paraphrase each other. Rhodonite fuses the nervousness we’ve seen from rubies and Pearl into a whole new level of perpetual fear. Fluorite speaks in the deep, slow voice of a six-Gem fusion. And, of course, Padparadscha has visions of the recent past, a running gag that I don’t predict I’ll ever get tired of.

Still, even in this first appearance, there’s more to this little family than their quirks. We meet the Rutiles first, voiced by Ashly Burch (one of the 2010s’ best new talents and the co-writer of my favorite latter-day Adventure Time episode, Hall of Egress), and despite a lifetime on the run their instinct is to help instead of hide. Rhodonite, voiced by Enuka Okuma (who like Padparadscha/Sapphire’s Erica Luttrell is a Canadian actress who started young and has steadily built up a considerable resume), doesn’t let her anxiety or societal pressure stop her from living as a fusion, which in a way makes her braver than the more confident Garnet. Fluorite, voiced by Kathy Fisher (primarily an EDM singer for the band Fisher) is proudly polyamorous and has a lot of grace for a giant caterpillar. Padparadscha, voiced by the aforementioned Luttrell...well, she pretty much is just her quirk, but she’s still a delight.

Given how many characters we meet and the amount of time we devote to Lars’s heroism and death, Off Colors can’t do much with its new characters besides introduce them. But the episode reveals their struggles not only with their words, but the setting they hid themselves in. Rather than spend any amount of time in the high tech environment of modern Homeworld (the place that reared the likes of Peridot and terrified Lapis Lazuli) we head straight to the ancient remains of perhaps the oldest Kindergarten in the universe, a massive chamber in a hollowed world without any more room to form new life. 

Like Earth’s Prime Kindergarten, it’s a perfect place for horror, this time from a drone that’s so relentless that it kills one of our characters. The drone’s theme resembles the opening of the Love Like You reprise and Holly Blue Agate’s motif, adding another layer of looming alien danger to the atmosphere, and the machine itself has the vicious efficiency of Peridot’s old robonoids. The world is old, but the technology hunting the Off Colors down is new, lending the sense of an endless struggle that must be endured rather than overcome.

Life on Homeworld is dictated by doing what you were created to do, but it’s important to show that deviating from this path doesn’t lead to instant happiness. If Gems could break away from their oppression with ease, it wouldn’t be much of an oppressive state, so the Off Colors trade lives in constant servitude for lives in constant survival mode. It isn’t as if we needed more evidence that Gem society is a mess, but there’s power in personalizing how misfits are persecuted to this day, compared to how the Crystal Gems were able to form in the past. The struggles from back then remain the struggles of the present, and the only way to fix them is with an outside push. We won’t see that push until the end of the series proper, but are primed to understand the power of external changers from Blue Zircon’s own ability to stand outside of the story and punch holes in the narrative the characters took for granted. It’s no wonder that Steven is fated to do the same thing.

It’s refreshing to see Lars and Steven get along from the start, instead of going through the usual ornery motions until they reach the sense of understanding they had in Stuck Together. It makes sense that we’d cut to the chase in an episode with this much to do, but given how often Lars forgets his lessons, it’s a nice change of pace for his growth to stick.

Even more refreshing is Steven forgetting about his martyr complex for a moment as his own survival instincts take hold: we see him instead channel the leadership lesson he learned with Peridot in the drill, assuring Lars that everything will be okay even when it’s clear that he doesn’t believe it. This time it’s Lars who must deal the barriers he sets up for himself, railing against his own cowardice and needing Steven’s positivity in the same way Steven needed his negativity on the spaceship. When Lars shows signs of an imminent panic attack, Steven gives him the same hand to the heart we’ve seen in Lars and the Cool Kids and Lion 3 and tells him that it’s okay to be afraid, a line Lars repeats to psych himself up for his last stand.

Steven also forgets about Zircon’s big reveal, which initially seems like a negative. As viewers, we’re invested in learning the truth about Pink Diamond and are made to wait even longer to get more clues. But I see this as the beginning of a major step forward, because even though Steven is hardly over his issues with Rose, this is where he starts focusing on where his priorities should be: his life in the present, rather than his mother’s ancient past. In Off Colors and Lars’s Head it’s all about escaping Homeworld and helping Lars and his new friends, then it’s straight to the Breakup Arc, and both journeys recenter Steven in a way that lets him grow enough to reexamine Zircon’s information through fresher eyes.

And as complicated as his relationship with Rose has become, let’s not forget that this episode ends with the first instance of her healing tears emerging from her son. He’s had healing spit for ages, his own Steven-y take on his mom’s power, but he evokes her far more directly as he revives Lars with a method that solves a mystery we weren’t even thinking about as we entered Homeworld: the origin of Lion. But more on that next time.

For now, it’s enough to have a full-to-the-brim episode of new friends and tense drama, written and animated to punch you in the gut with a surprise death that feels no less powerful when it’s half-reversed. The Off Colors show us problems unique to Gems (Homeworld society, fusion stuff, malfunctioning psychic powers), and Lars shows us problems unique to humans (general physical frailty, from hunger to the inability to shrug off explosions), but both reach an understanding that makes their imminent team-up feel as natural as can be. Each of them lives in fear, and each of them learns that the only way to work past this fear is to accept it and work together to overcome it. I know that they can be strong in the real way, and they’re about to prove it.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

The streak of Love ‘em episodes holds strong. What seems to be a pure set-up episode is blown up by its shocker of an ending, and while it may lead to yet another cliffhanger, there’s a sense of completion as Lars goes from cowering mess to genuine hero.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

I Am My Mom

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(Despite the header image looking very Sugary, there’s no official promo art; that lovely picture is actually from the wonderful ferryperson.)

[jadegrey711]

Shelter From the Storm

Duke Crocker x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you @faye666-999 for requesting some much needed Duke Crocker fic! There is definitely a shortage when it comes to this Thief with a Heart of Gold so i hope this is everything that you wanted and enjoy! 

*NOT MY GIF*

Warnings: It’s smutty unprotected sex and a bit angsty SO ya know the usual. 

Prompt:  Reader is a troubled person who’s trouble is that she is a reverse empath to where people feel her feelings with such intensity with just the slightest touch, so she’s closed off and in consequence she’s incredibly touch starved. She lives in the apartment above the Grey Gull as Duke’s tenant.

Word Count: 2,081

Song Inspo,

I’ve been Loving You Too Long - Cat Power 

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

The rain was coming down hard, and lightning crashed across the horizon when you heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?” You called, walking toward the front door.

“It’s Duke. Can you let me in please before I drown out here?” You laughed to yourself and rushed to the front door and quickly opened it to find Duke standing out in the rain completely drenched.

“Come in, quick!” you laughed, quickly moving out of his way so he could come inside and so he couldn’t brush past you as he came in. You closed the door behind him.

“Let me get you a towel so you aren’t dripping water everywhere.” You said as you walked past him and towards the bathroom.

“Thanks Y/N.” He called after you.

“So why didn’t you just go home to your boat?” You asked as you tossed him the towel and went back to get another one to wipe up the floor with.

“My jeep won’t start and I thought as landlord I could persuade my way into a warm space and possibly a towel.” He smiled and ran his fingers through his soaked hair and you felt your heart jump like it always does when he gives you that award winning smile.

“Well no, persuasion needed. You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like and wait out the storm; as landlord I think you’re entitled to that and maybe some dinner as well. I made some garbage soup; I can pour you a bowl if you want.”

“Wait Garbage soup?”

“Its something my grandmother taught me it’s just whatever odds and ends I had in the fridge all in one pot.” You said walking towards the kitchen and Duke followed you, the plush towel wrapped around his soaking body.  You grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and turned back to the stove and started pouring scoopfuls of soup into the bowl; when Duke came up beside you making you jump instantly. You quickly took a step to the side to gain just a bit more space between you and him, hoping that you weren’t too obvious.

But it didn’t go unnoticed by Duke; who left your side and went to sit on the other side of the counter. You slid over the bowl to him, making sure he wasn’t in touching distance. “Okay now you eat that and I’ll go see if I have anything big enough for you to change out of those wet clothes.” You said slipping out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom to find a shirt and hopefully some pants for him. As you rifled through your drawers, you heard a creak in the floor and turned to find Duke standing in front of you; his eyes intense.

“Duke? What are you-” but he cut you off immediately when he reached for your hand, you tried to retch back but he was too quick, his large warm hand engulfed yours and entwined his fingers with yours. You tried to pull your hand away but it was too late you watched as his eyes glazed over your emotions amplified running rampant through him. You watched in horror as he grasped his chest and fell to his knees.

“Duke!” You screamed, and was finally able to retch your and out of his; pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands and stepping back till your back hit the wall.

When Duke finally came back around you saw tears in his eyes as he looked up a you through thick lashes.

“Y/N.” He croaked out, and slowly got back up to his feet.

“What the hell did you do that for!” you screamed at him, feeling like lunging at him and kicking him while he’s down; but the idea of what just happened happening again kept you against the wall. Desperately wanting it to swallow you up and become a permanent barrier between you and the man before you.

“I had to know.” He said, looking ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry Y/N, but I had to know.”

“Know what?” You asked, puling yourself closer to yourself.

Duke got to his full height and took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes dark and full of intensity. “I had to know that you felt what I did. I had a feeling but I could never have imagined what I just felt. And you’ve been keeping this to yourself for so long because you were afraid, I’d find out, didn’t you?” He asked but you didn’t answer, he took another step towards you. “You can’t lie to me, Y/N. Not after what I just felt right there, it brought me to my knees but you’ve been shouldering it for so long.”

“Why do you care?” you asked in a shaky voice.

“Because it’s taken me this long to find out that I feel exactly like you do, I’m only sorry that its taken me this long to figure it out.” He took that last step and was standing in front of you. “Why did you never tell me before?” He said reaching out for your face but you turned feeling like you couldn’t handle another one of his touches again.

“When your emotions are literally on your sleeve for the world to know about by just a simple touch, it’s hard to knowing that you’ll never be reciprocated in kind. That I’ll never know anyone’s true feelings about me but I’m constantly open to the world to nit and pick at. I could have told you from day one wit just a brush of your hand and there were days when I thought about and God… did I think about it. But, I couldn’t take it if you recoiled from what you felt.” You said feeling yourself slump just slightly against the wall.

Duke reached for you and cupped your face, immediately feeling that rush of love, admiration and desire once again. “How could I ever recoil from this? This feeling, its unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.” He purred, and you watched as he drank in your emotions your love for him. You reached out hesitantly for him and placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heat through his semi-wet shirt.

“Take it off.” You breathed.

Duke didn’t waste a second and stripped off his shirt for you, watching you intently to see what you’ll do next.

You placed your hands back against his skin, feeling him under your fingers and you could hear Duke sigh as he felt your emotions flood him again, as your fingers traced everything, wanting to know every groove, divot, and scar in his lean torso.  You traced your fingers up to his collarbones and then felt his arms wrap around you, his fingers stilling on your back for only a moment before they started to move across your back in soothing motions. You felt tears form at your eyes, at the contact, loving the feel of someone touching you, someone cradling you close to them and you doing the same to them. So long you had spent keeping yourself at a distance, fearing people and their judgement; but all the while still craving human contact, the need to be close to someone.

Duke looked down at your face and wiped away the tears from your face, not questioning them because he knew all too well why they were there. He knew so well that tears formed on his own face and you wiped them from his face in kind. His long fingers went to the hem of your sweater and pulled up taking both the sweater and the shirt underneath it.

“No more hiding from me Y/N.” He said in a soft voice as he discarded both the sweater and shirt leaving you bare to him. It was like he was linked to you, almost as if the longer he kept touching you the more it felt like his mind was melding with yours. He took you and held you close to his chest, feeling how warm to the touch he was despite being soaked only about twenty minutes ago. He gripped your chin and brought it up so he could kiss you, his mouth soft but commanding as he slipped his tongue in with yours, you moved your hands up so they wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the dried curls at the end of his hair. He lowered himself and grabbed your ass and picked you up, carrying you to the nearby bed and placing you down softly, not breaking contact. Both of you drunk on each other.

He hovered over you; his lips moved from yours to your cheek; kissing both sides earning a light giggle from you as his stubble tickled your cheeks. His kisses went to your jaw and kissed under your chin, before trailing down to your throat, to your collarbones; then to your breasts. He licked around one of your nipples while his other hand was kneading the other, you arched your back into his touch as he sucked on your nipple, wanting him closer.

You reached down and began unbuckling his pants, needing more than just touches; needing him to be melded with you. You heard him growl, as he felt what your fingers were doing, and reached one of his hands down to help you. You helped him quickly get his pants off, laughing a bit as they got stuck around one of his ankles. He didn’t have that kind of trouble with yours though, with expert hands he grabbed the top of your sweatpants and pulled down slowly, letting the tips of his fingers trace down your legs as he pulled them off; you arched your hips slightly to help him out and then they were in a pile with the rest of your clothes. Duke looked down at you, licking his lips as he traced every place his eyes went with his long fingers.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N.” He breathed, his fingers flowing softly over your stomach and going lower. “So soft.” He breathed, kissing you and eating your gasps as you felt his fingers trace your folds with two of his fingers, before slowly slipping them inside of you working you slowly, his thumb tracing small circles on your clit making you arch into him and his deft fingers. “So wet.” He grinned, letting his tongue invade your senses as he brought you closer to the edge as his fingers increased their pace as they pumped you.

“Duke.” You whimpered, holding onto his hair, pulling the long strands of his hair as you felt yourself coming so close to your edge…only for Duke to pull away from you. “Duke, why did-” you were beginning to say before Duke cut you off by thrusting himself inside of you, immediately making you fall over that edge that he was building earlier. Duke groaned as he stilled inside of you, feeling you clench around him. “Sorry baby, I couldn’t wait any longer; I just needed to be inside you.” He said pushing your hair from your forehead as he watched as you came down from your first orgasm, only to start moving inside you.

You let out a sharp gasp, already feeling sensitive to the touch, you gripped onto Duke’s back your feet locking around his waist, feeling him go deeper inside of you; making both of you groan at the new sensation. Duke’s lips were on yours giving you sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he thrusted inside of you, picking the pace up to what feels like a dangerous speed; feeling that another wave was going to crash over you soon.

“Y/N.” Duke, breathed against your neck, kissing the skin there; then sucking harshly making you moan. “Cum for me baby. Be mine, Y/N.”

Suddenly, you felt the wave of your second orgasm crash over you, pulling harshly on Duke’s hair. Duke was soon to follow you and you felt his weight on top of you as he slumped down onto you.

He rested his face in your neck, placing a kiss on your neck and inhaling you. You kept your fingers in his hair, but instead of pulling harshly, you gently twirled the small strands; before Duke pulled his face away from your neck and kissed you again. You reached up and cupped his beautiful face, tracing his cheekbones and his soft lips with the pad of your thumb. Loving the feel of his touch on your skin.