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blouisparadise · 5 years ago

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list.

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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me-and-your-husband · 5 years ago

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Honey, I’m Home (Part 2)

Summary: After Steve went on the run from the government after the events of civil war, you await the day you can see him and your daughter again. When that day comes, a new hope s found.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dad!Steve Rogers, Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bearded steve

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

Sam opened the back door of the black Cadillac Escalade for me to take a seat inside. I did so as Bucky took his place in the passenger’s seat. When Sam got in, he started the car, put his seatbelt on, and put the car into drive. We sat in silence for a few moments, before I finally spoke up, the empty noise becoming too much to avoid.

“Where are we going?” I questioned as Sam’s eyes briefly met mine in the rearview mirror. Bucky drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“After what happened at the airport, we brought Jane to a safehouse in Germany. After everything transpired and Steve broke the rest of the team out of custody, we all became fugitives. We’ve been on the run for the past year and a half,” Bucky clarified.

“Steve and Jane are in another safe house in the Canadian Rockies with the rest of the team that were on his side,” Sam added. I hummed in understanding and turned my face to look out the window.

Soon after, we were boarding a plane, using fake passports, of course. Once the plane successfully took off, Bucky put on a set of headphones and Sam nodded off. I noticed a small pad of paper and a pen in the seat pouch in front of me, and so I took it out and began sketching. My hand danced around the rough paper, crossing over lines and margins. I sketched from memory, and from what I remembered my daughter to look like.

I stared down at the completed sketch, coming out quite like the way I remembered three-year-old Jane. It was not as smooth and professional as Steve’s sketches, but you could still be impressed by it. My eyes started to fill with tears, the realization finally hitting me like a tsunami hits a small island.

I was finally going to see my family. After all this waiting, suffering, I was finally going to run my fingers through my daughter’s hair and tell her it was going to be alright. I was finally going to kiss my husband goodnight after a day of playing games at the beach and having a family picnic. I was finally going to have back the life that I missed so dearly.

I let a few tears make their way down my cheeks, before wiping them discreetly with the back of my hand. I looked to my right to see Bucky slipping his headphones off, a loft jazz tune revealing what he was listening to. Steve listened to the same type of music. It reminded him of a time when things were not so complicated.

“She looks almost identical to you, now,” Bucky said, staring down at the drawing on my lap. “She still has Steve’s blue eyes and blonde hair, but if not those then she would be your twin,” Bucky said as a smile crept onto my face, just imagining her. My five-year -old girl. My five-year-old girl. So much time has passed.

I sit in silence and can’t help but wonder to myself the worst. What if she doesn’t remember me? She will. She has to, right? I’m her mother, there’s some type of bond there where you just, know, right?

My overthinking is interrupted by the flight attendant letting us know we’re landing over the intercom.

When we land, I get out and am immediately glad I decided to wear a jacket. I never really believed people when they said that Canada was that cold, until now. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to create some friction induced heat, but that did little. Luckily, Sam packed accordingly.

“Here, put these on over your clothes,” he said as he handed me a fluffy parka, a pair of sweatpants, a weird beanie (which I would later find out they called “toques” in Canada), some mittens, and winter boots.

“People actually live in the cold like this?” I queried, to which both Sam and Bucky chortled.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we’ve been doing it for the past couple of months,” Sam stated.

“You think this is cold? Try spending a winter in Saskatchewan, Jesus, it’s got nothin’ on Alberta,” Bucky added.

“Is that where we are?” I questioned, and Bucky confirmed it with a hum.

Sam led us to another car, this time it was a black Dodge Ram. I guess if we were going to the mountains, we would need a heavy-duty vehicle, one meant to trek mountains.

I stepped up onto the foot rail, and hoisted myself in. We fastened our seatbelts, and I managed to read the time over Sam’s shoulder; 4:39 PM. It was already getting dark, a behavior I assume was regular during Canadian winters.

Sooner than later, my head fell against my chest as I slept a bittersweet sleep, thankful for the rest, as it would pass the time and bring me closer to seeing my family, but also not wanting to miss a single second of the journey to my imagination.

When I awoke, it was to Bucky shaking me lightly and whispering my name. I blinked back the sleep, and drowsily climbed out of the truck. I took in my surroundings. It was pitch black outside, but it only felt like nine or ten. I spun around, to see a huge, cozy looking hotel with trees and snow surrounding it. My mouth hung agape as Sam and Bucky ushered me into the hotel.

Sam checked us in for a one night’s stay, and as much as I wanted to see my family, the sooner the better, I knew that not Sam nor Bucky were accustomed to drive through the snow in the dark.

Bucky and Sam ended up sharing a bed, whilst they insisted upon me having the other one to myself. They made it out to be them just being courteous, but I really think they knew Steve would destroy them for sleeping in the same bed as his best girl.

The morning consisted of a quick pot of coffee to wake us up, and then we were right back on the road, Bucky driving this time. Casual conversations were made, just them asking me what I have been up to for the past while. Nothing much had happened, but I didn’t want to seem like a bore, so I only told them the interesting bits.

Soon, we were in the mountains, occasionally stopping for gas and snacks at random pitstops. I couldn’t help but feel like a little kid on a road trip, constantly wanting to ask, “are we there yet?” or “are we almost there? How much longer?”. Eventually, Sam announced that we would be there in about five minutes, which really grabbed my attention.

“By the way, he doesn’t know you’re coming,” Sam said, which barely fazed me, as I was too excited. My leg bounced up and down like a giddy teenager during an exam, and I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

In a short amount of time, we pulled onto a gravel road, which had recently been neatly shoveled. It weaved through a thick forest, sometimes catching deer in the headlights. The path was shadowy and was barely lit, considering the trees looming over us blocking the sun. The rocky sound of driving across gravel and freshly packed snow filled our ears as we made our way down the trail.

Soon enough, which felt too long even in itself, we came to a clearing. In the middle of that clearing, was a huge, three story log cabin, with multiple vehicles, varying size, type, model, year, color, and brand, scattered around the lot. Before my jaw could fall off its hinges, a familiar female giggle caught my attention. I turned my head to look through the window, to where I saw Wanda and Vision having a snowball fight. I guess Vision must have reconciled with Wanda, and realized that our side was the right to be on.

The truck pulled up to the front of the house, and I slowly, as if mesmerized, took of my seatbelt. Wanda and Vision greeted Bucky and Sam, and they froze when they seen me. I gave them both a small wave and a smile as my feet hit the soft snow, and I may have come across as rude for not greeting them properly, but that could be saved for later. I turned my head to Sam, who quickly understood what I was getting at.

“Inside,” He stated, gesturing towards the big double doors of the manor. My heart skipped a beat as I clambered up the few steps leading to the porch and grasped the wood door handles. I took a breath in and swung the doors open. My eyes wandered the wood interior, before getting caught in a movement at the other end of the hall. I sprinted to where I saw that movement, and looked to my left, where some type of bedroom was located.

Clint sat on the bed, holding a framed photo of his wife and kids. Before he could see me, I made my way back down the hall, and started frantically running around the maze of a place, trying to find my family. It was around noon, so it was very likely that they could be in the kitchen, eating.

When I finally reached the huge kitchen, nobody was to be found. I let out a small sigh, but before I turned to walk out, I heard a voice coming from the next room over.

“Okay, Janie! Ready or not, here I come!” said that voice I knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I took fast steps to the entrance of that room, the living room.

Standing beside the fireplace, was Steve Rogers, but he was different. His back faced me, but I could still see him in the mirror above the fireplace. He had a harder look to him, but those soft eyes I always adored were still there. He had grown out his hair, and now had a nicely trimmed beard. I took a sharp breath in, which must have alerted him that someone was there. He always joked about me being the only one who could sneak up on him.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his clenched jaw softened. He slowly lifted his head and spun around to face me. My breaths were shaky as he slowly took a step towards me.

“God, please tell me it’s you, Y/N, because I think if I have to convince myself that I’m seeing you one more time, I’ll go crazy,” He pleaded, his brows knit together.

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking as my vision started to blur with tears. “It’s me, I promise you it’s me,” I said, as I ran towards him, immediately wrapping his arms around me and pressing his nose into the crook of my neck. I inhaled a long, sharp breath through my nose, missing the way he smelled, as well as the way he felt, the way his voice sounded in the morning, the way looked as his muscles flexed under his shirt when he was working out, and the way his lips tasted on mine. After I felt my tears had permanently stained his gray Henley, I pulled away. His blue eyes were so easy to get lost in, but the overwhelming need to kiss him, to feel him again, outweighed anything else in that moment. Our lips were together in an instant, in a passionate kiss. My hands rested at the back of his neck, and his on my cheeks, his body heat instantly warming me up from the chilly climate of Alberta. After we both pulled away for a breath, he rested his head against mine. I ran a hand down his beard clad cheek, and scratched it gently, to relay that I liked it, which elicited a smile from him.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I-“

“Daddy! What are you doing, are we still playing hide and seek?” said a little girl’s voice. My breath caught in my throat. Steve looked over my shoulder, and back to my eyes. He gave me a knowing look, and I slowly turned on my heels.

“Mommy?”

“Baby…”

“Mommy!” Jane screamed as she dropped her stuffed rabbit and sprinted towards me. I fell to my knees and held my arms open for her. I held her in my arms like that, like the day she was born, for what felt like forever. I don’t even remember exactly when Steve wrapped his arms around us. Silent cries and sniffles could be heard coming from either one of us.

Finally, I was where I should be, home.

Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part :)

Would you guys want an epilogue?

#steve rogers x reader #dad!steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america civil war #captain america #The Avengers #Avengers #marvel #marvel angst

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skullrock · 5 years ago

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the campers, chapter four - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter four: the routine

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: The first week of camp is in full swing, bringing a few surprises with it.

warnings: swearin’!

word count: 4k (hehe)

a/n: this chapter encompasses the time span of a week so it’s a lil long and has some stuff happening but I hope you enjoy! things are spicin’ up but not like you’d expect! you can catch up on the series here! (ps Hop didn’t die in s4 because I said so <3)

===

Camp Know Where buzzes with excitement as the new campers file in on Monday. This is Steve’s first ever orientation - well, besides the one he just went through. He’s never been in a position like this, and he’s nervous as he checks people in. But it’s an easy job.

Until the Party walks in.

Steve stares at them all, mouth agape. El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will - they’re all here, all carrying bags. Mike takes the lead, glaring tensely at Steve, as usual. Steve avoids him and looks at El. “Are you allowed to be here?”

She nods. “Hop’s letting me.”

Steve shakes his head and finds their names on the roster. He should have known, should have seen their names, but it’s actually a nice surprise. Well, except for Mike. But he’s happy everyone else is here.

“Where’s Dustin?” Lucas asks.

“Helping with move in.” Steve looks up. “Does he know you’re here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Will says, beaming.

“That’s nice,” Steve says slowly. “Well, don’t be dickheads, okay? Don’t make my job harder for me.”

El shakes her head, but Mike scoffs, “You’re a counselor?”

Steve gestures to his shirt. “Did you think I just disappeared for the past two weeks?”

“I hoped so.”

Max hits his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all step past the table, and Steve puts his head in his hands. They’re gonna kill me, he thinks. A part of him is really happy they’re here, though. He’s not sure if that means he really is fond of them, or if he’s just happy that he can keep them safe here. He straightens and continues helping others check in, directing them to their cabins.

You come up a while later, suppressing a smile as you approach him. He looks flustered, perfected hair now a mess. His cheeks are red and his brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how many more kids are left to come in.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

He looks up and smiles softly. “So great.”

“It’s not all this boring,” you explain. “Or stressful. It’ll be fun soon, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You better not be lying to me.”

“What if I am?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll flip your kayak.”

You laugh - a loud, ringing laugh. Steve smiles, pleased to have earned it from you. He wants your friendship to go smoothly, he wants you to like him. After yesterday’s confrontation and subsequent confession of enjoyment, he was starting to think maybe it was going to work out. Maybe you both weren’t going to dislike each other.

You straighten, still smiling down at him. “I’d like to see you try, Steve.” You knock twice on the table he’s at. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Steve nods, and you linger for just a second longer before heading off.

===

Steve continues to surprise you through the first week.

Though you still don’t get the appeal of him, you notice that many of the campers love going to see him for their intramurals. And he’s really good at teaching kids how to dodge a ball, or serve, or kayak. You’d never seen nerds so excited to interact with a jock, but they were, and it was actually heartwarming to see. You watched from the sidelines on your breaks as Steve helped teach kids tennis and soccer, his face red from the sun but beaming. He’d pause to wave at you before continuing, and you had a hard time prying yourself away from the scene. It was like it was in his nature to be a teacher, to care after others - and you’d never really seen that in a preppy jock before.

You also never expected a guy like Steve, known jerk, to be so good at interacting with kids.

You’re walking along the shore before dinner on Thursday when you hear shouts coming from the lake. You squint as you look out before seeing the source.

Steve had taught the kids a new game on the kayaks. They’d pass a ball with their paddles back and forth, and if they could get the ball into the seat of their opponent, they got a point. It was probably extremely dangerous, but the kids had fun, and so did he. He was soaked to the bone after every game, but his face hurt from laughing, and that was enough.

You watch from the shore as he and three other campers play, and you shake your head. Another counselor, Mia, comes up behind you and laughs. “He’s pretty popular, huh?”

“Always has been,” you say, turning to face her.

“He’s nice to watch, isn’t he?” She stands on her tiptoes to look past you. “I could watch that man’s arms for days.” You roll your eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t think so?”

You sigh. “He’s just… Steve. I don’t get the appeal.”

“You’re the only one, it seems,” she says, smiling again. “What is he, your villain origin story?”

It’s surprising how accurate the phrasing is. “It’s complicated.”

She shrugs. “You seem to get along well now, at least. Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Your words catch in your throat as she walks away.

Part of you does like Steve. You find enjoyment in him - he’s goofy, he’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s smart. But he’s also the person who made you cry every summer. He’s your childhood bully - how could you enjoy his company? You confuse yourself with your own feelings. It’s like mental gymnastics, trying to hang on to your anger and resentment while equally wanting to like him.

You shake your thoughts out of your head and walk off the shore, away from Steve and his charm.

===

The week ends on Friday, leaving everyone exhausted. The Party kept Steve busy when he wasn’t leading intramurals, draining him fully of his energy. They were going to watch a movie with Suzie in one of the recreation rooms, leaving Steve by himself. He was worn and tired, sunburnt and hot. But he still jogged up to you when he sees you after dinner.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around to face him, a friendly smile crossing your face as he comes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Just since Monday.”

He shrugs. “Felt like a long time.”

There’s a silence before you clear your throat. “How was your week?”

A wide smile spreads over his face. “It was amazing!”

You let him gush, because you’re genuinely interested. He tells you about how easy it is for him to talk to the campers, how he created Kayak Ball (“still working on a better name”), and how he’d made some friends with other counselors. Which leads him to ask, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

Shit.

The annual First Friday Bonfire was tonight, and you’d forgotten all about it. It was usually a very spiritual experience - people would write stories from their past, things that bother them, share it to the group, and then burn the paper in the flames. It was like a reawakening - fire is cleansing, after all. Just last year, you’d wrote about the Steve standing in front of you, hair disheveled and grinning dorkily. You burned the paper and went on with your life.

You never expected he’d be here. It’s a bit mind-boggling.

“Yeah,” you say. “Are you?”

“If you are,” he says, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t really know -”

“Steve, everyone here loves you. You’ve made friends.” You hope the bitterness you feel isn’t being translated into your tone. “You can hang out with these people. They like you.”

He nods, frowning. “I know. It’s just….” He sighs heavily. “I’ve never had people… like me before.”

Your stomach falls as you remember what he had told you about - how he hadn’t talked to Tommy since junior year. These were the first adults he had interacted with in years; he was bound to be nervous.

“I’ll be there.” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “But you don’t need me. Everyone here thinks you’re incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only thing the girl counselor cabin talks about.”

You see a blush creep up his cheeks. “Really?”

You don’t want to indulge him - you shouldn’t indulge him - but you do. “Every girl here has the hots for you. Maybe even some of the boys.”

Steve’s breath catches. “Every girl?”

You stare at him awkwardly. “Well - n… no, not every girl, but - enough.” You feel embarrassment creeping hotly through your veins. “Not - not me, if you’re thinking -”

“No, no,” he says, just as awkwardly as you. “No, I know that.” He smiles slightly. “You hate me.”

A smile turns the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“Right.”

A long and awkward silence ensues before he says, “Yeah - okay. I will see you tonight.”

===

Hours later, you saunter over to the counselor bonfire, located right off the shore of the lake. It’s a beautiful, clear night - a slight breeze rustles the trees and the fire licks the stars. You’re a bit late, and Steve’s nervous that you won’t show up. Despite this, he is literally surrounded by the female counselors, who are eagerly asking him about himself.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble as you approach.

“Look who it is!” Josh shouts out as you near. “Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say dryly, entering the circle.

Steve pats the log beside him - he had saved you a seat. With all these girls surrounding him, he saved you a seat. He had to tell them, “hey, don’t sit there, it’s reserved,” while he waited for you to show up. It’s a sweet gesture, one that sends your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. You sit beside him, giving a tight lipped smile.

The girls all smile at you, as if it’s all some type of game. And you know why they’re so amused - you had dramatically cut them off each night when Steve would be brought up. You’d throw a pillow over your head and shout at them to just shut up already. They thought you weren’t immune to his charms, just as they weren't. You roll your eyes at them.

Josh hands you a piece of paper and a pencil. “We’re doing the burning ceremony in a few.”

You take the paper and pencil from him gently, sitting it on your lap. Beside you, Steve is clutching his paper tightly to his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about what to write down - you’d already metaphorically burned Steve last year. You simply write down my past with no elaboration, intending to feed everyone a fake story and then throw it into the fire.

Steve himself didn’t need to think very long about what to write down. His biggest regret was the way he had treated people. A nauseous jerk tugs at his stomach when he thinks about high school, when he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan, when he thinks about the mask he always hid behind. He’s reminded of it every single day here with you - memories that he can’t quite touch but that he knows are there. The feeling of guilt when he looks at you, at the way your brows furrow and eyes narrow at him. How, even now, the pleasantries hide behind past aggression.

He doesn’t blame you.

And maybe, perhaps, burning a piece of paper will make him feel better. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever done.

You listen as everyone goes around and tells their story. Some talk about relationships, or mental health. Each story is met with support from the circle, almost like group therapy. When all comments are said, the paper is thrown in, and everyone claps and cheers as it burns. You can sense that Steve is getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to talking, and you wonder what’s on his paper.

When it’s your turn, you stand up. “I wrote down my past.” You clear your throat. “Uh - I’m not proud of who I used to be. I used to be so quiet and shy. But I’m happier now, and louder, and I’m not afraid of the space that I take up.”

Steve’s eyes burn a hole into your side as you tell your story. He remembers the girl you’re talking about. He remembers how quiet you were, always minding your own business. And his chest hurts when he realizes that he’s probably why you were that way.

It takes a lot of strength for you to not side-eye him.

Everyone tells you that they’re proud and you throw the paper into the fire, sitting back down and crossing your hands over your lap. There’s a tenseness between you and Steve, but no one realizes the connection.

Steve stands, his hands shaking. It takes him a second to find his voice.

“Um. Well, when I was younger - not younger, just a few years ago - I was a jerk.”

You tense up, staring intently into the fire.

“I was such a dick. I made the worst decisions and the worst friends. I used to follow the crowd, because I thought that’s what I had to do to make them like me.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “And I knew it was wrong - I knew it was - but that’s not an excuse. I let it go on for too long, and I hurt a lot of people. And that really kills me each day.”

You squeeze your hands together.

“I’m trying so hard to not be that person anymore, and I’m glad that I’m not. I got away from those people and I found better friends. Friends who believe in me and like me for me.” He clears his throat and sniffles. “But I’m so worried that I’ll turn back into that person again. I know there are people who will always know me as that person, and that sucks.” His eyes land on the top of your head. “But not as much as it sucks for them, I’m sure.

“I’m just ashamed,” he continues. “I wish I could change what I did. I wish I could make everyone believe that I’m not that guy anymore. I wish I wasn’t so scared. Most of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone’s silent. Steve asks, “Do - do I throw it in now?”

“No,” Josh says. “Uh - wow. I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve feels the shame creeping into his chest again and bows his head.

“First of all, man, you’re allowed to change. You can change, and it’s obvious that you did,” Josh says.

Steve looks up, shocked at the validation.

“Yeah,” Nico, Steve’s roommate, interjects. “Dude, you’re one of the nicest, goofiest people I’ve ever met.”

A few yeahs echo around the circle.

“And it’s a good sign that you regret what you’ve done,” another girl, Emily, says. “That shows growth.”

You sit tensely, feeling cold in front of the fire. You know he’s talking about you. And you know he means what he’s saying.

You interject a few moments later. “What matters is that you’re trying to change. That’s the best you can do.”

Steve looks down at you, brows furrowing, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of him, freeing him. Feels like his collar bones aren’t cracking under pressure. His eyes are soft and filled with tears - he wasn’t expecting any of this.

You swallow hard, feeling your own tears swelling in your eyes. “And I think that - I think that it’s obvious you aren’t like who you were before.”

Never in your life did you think you’d say that, and never in Steve’s life did he think he’d hear it.

A few people agree, reinforcing that it’s okay for him to be ashamed, but it’s okay for him to grow, too. It’s a bit much for Steve, who makes a strong effort to not burst out into sobs. You can’t meet his eyes yet, but when he sits down after throwing the paper in, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. It’s more than the truce at the breakfast table - it’s an understanding. It’s forgiveness. It’s comfort. It’s friendship. You decide to truly, finally swallow your past, let the flames do their job, and embrace the new Steve.

Your hand leaves after just a second, but he understands the message, and you both smile the rest of the night.

===

It’s Sunday night now, and you’re doing rounds. It’s a little after one in the morning. You check on every cabin to make sure kids are asleep and safe, then decide to sneak a dip in the lake. It was a cool night, but the water was calling. You approach the pier but stop when you see another body already sitting on the edge, shoulders slumped.

You can tell despite the distance that it’s Steve, and you can tell that something’s wrong.

You make your footsteps loud so he can hear you coming, and you take a seat on the wood beside him. The lake is bright from the moon, and it illuminates on Steve’s sullen face. “You okay?”

He nods softly. “I just wanted to take a walk,” he says, but his voice cracks.

You frown. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, but you can see that his cheeks and eyes are red and swollen. Finally, he whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Steve had awoken in a sweat, kicking his sheets off of him and gasping for breath. It was another dream about the Upside Down, and it hit him unexpectedly and hard. Nico had stood over his bed, worry etched onto his face, asking Steve if he was okay. Steve brushed it off and said he needed to go on a walk. When he slipped outside, he cried, hugging himself as he walked to the pier. It was the brightest spot at camp, the only place he felt safe. He had learned the lake like the back of his hand in three week’s time, had found a home in it, and he went there to pull himself together.

A nightmare was a bit of an understatement - it had felt so real. He went weeks without one, happily, assuming the distance from Hawkins was helping. It was disheartening to have one here. Embarrassing, too. He wonders if Dustin or any of the kids had been having them.

The anguish on his face and cheeks is apparent and you whisper, “Hey,” taking his hand and squeezing it again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head numbly. He would like to talk about it, but knows he can’t. “Just a stupid dream.”

You frown. “It’s not stupid to feel scared.”

Steve sniffles. “I know.”

“But do you know?”

Steve stills, eyebrows knitting together again. “I… it’s hard to feel like it’s not stupid.”

You nod. “I know how you feel. Well, at least a bit.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“No,” you whisper. Your thumb absentmindedly rubs over his. “But I have anxiety. And I know how it feels to think it’s stupid to feel that way.”

Steve nods. “I just kind of… push it down. I try not to bother people with it.”

“You’re not bothering people who love you for talking about it. Have you told Dustin?”

“Yeah, but… he’s got his own problems.”

You nod in understanding. After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can talk to me.”

He laughs solemnly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it. Someone outside of the people who were there, or outside of the shrinks that Doc Owens had recommended. Anyone with a new perspective. But he can’t, because the person he’d confide in would die, and he really doesn’t need that on his conscience. That’s not something you could burn in a fire and forget about.

“I’m serious,” you say. “I can help.”

Steve kicks his feet back and forth in the water for a few minutes. Then he looks over at you. “How do you stop being anxious?”

“You don’t,” you say, laughing. “It just gets easier to hide. But having friends helps, and loving yourself helps.”

“I don’t have either.”

You elbow his side gently. “You have friends, Steve. And I’ll be damned if you don’t like yourself by the time you leave here.”

He’s quiet again, then says, “It’s really hard for me to think of people as friends. It’s hard to think that people actually want to hang out with me. Tommy and Carol used me for money and an empty house.” He shrugs lazily. “The attention just feels so… superficial now.”

And it makes your heart ache, because maybe that’s why he won’t give in to the girls here. He thinks they don’t like him for him - they only like him for his looks. Even if he wants them to like him, if he wants someone to love, it’s hard to accept it. The realization ignites an odd anger in you; he doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But at least you’re aware of it, right?”

He nods and shrugs again. “I guess.”

More silence.

“Your speech on Friday…,” you say softly. “It meant a lot.”

“It didn’t have to -”

“But it did.”

He swallows and turns to face you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing his thumb again. “I forgive you.” You smile. “For real this time.”

He smiles, too. “Apparently, since you can’t stop holding my hand.”

You retract it quickly, holding it to your chest. You didn’t realize how long you’d been holding it, and you blushed deeply. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You sure?” he grins. “Because someone told me every girl here likes me.”

You kick water towards him and he laughs, kicking back. You’re happy to see the light back in his eyes.

“So Kayak Ball, huh?”

“It’s the next big thing.” He seems proud of it.

You hum. “So I’ve heard.” You splash water towards him again. “You gonna teach me?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging. “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow on my break.”

He smiles widely. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

You push up and reach out for his hand, pulling him up with you. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

You walk together in silence, but Steve feels comforted. Like maybe he could go back to sleep when he lays down instead of worrying about dying.

“Hey,” you say when you approach his cabin. “Um… Mia? She wanted me to put in a good word for her.”

“As in?”

“As in, you should sit with her at lunch.” You wink. “She’s one of those ‘every girls’ that likes you.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles, shaking his head. “You mean it?”

“No, it’s a prank.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

You smile and nod. When you turn to walk towards your cabin, you say, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He waves after you. “Goodnight.”

===

taglist (join here!): @troop-scoop @therealestdookie @jasontoddisfantastical @mybestfriendthedingus @anonymousonion23 @darth-el @unknownherelm @random-thoughts-003 @metuel18 @dark-academics-and-florals @magicstrengthandcourage @mathchampagne @magnitude101999 @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @sunshine-and-riverwater @dark-academics-and-florals @scooprtroopr @heart-eye-harrington @sourapplebaby @comedy-witch @mochminnie @thatkidofwarandpeace @lukeskisses @ssanjuniperoo @harrington-ofhawkins @write-from-the-heart @yazmin626 @bravest-at-heart

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #the campers #this chap is truly horrific but what can u do truly!

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ghostlypoemland · 4 years ago

Text

Garden: Chapter 1

Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.

Chapter one:

Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:

Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.

And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.

Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.

Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.

But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.

She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.

Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.

"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.

"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.

"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"

"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.

An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.

The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.

"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.

My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.

But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.

At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.

The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.

The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.

You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.

What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!

Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!

Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.

But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.

Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.

No turning back.

She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.

Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.

A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.

"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."

"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.

"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."

Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.

"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.

"All babies are," murmured the midwife.

Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."

"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.

"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."

"No!"

"You don't want more kids?"

"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."

Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.

"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"

"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."

"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."

Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.

"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."

Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"

"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."

"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"

Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.

"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."

The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.

"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.

"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."

"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."

"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.

Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.

"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.

Arne and Frida exchanged glances.

"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.

Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.

She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.

"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."

"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"

Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.

Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.

"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"

#astrid hofferson #astrid #rtte viggo #viggo grimborn #race to the edge #viggstrid #httyd #fanfiction #writing #vigstrid

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juminsmysticmc · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I love your writing, and I was wondering if you would write something about MC being from Denmark. You can choose who you want to write about! Thank you, and stay safe in all this

RFA with a Danish Mc

You too dear! Please wash your hands regularly and stay at home!

By the way, are you from Denmark? If so - I will come visiting you OMG

Like, I love Denmark (of course I don’t know anything about it and if you would ask me about the capital now I would helplessly look around, so please ask me something about Japan) BUT I ALWAYS WANTED TO GO TO DENMARK ONCE!

And btw, I love danish cookie. Oh my God I‘m getting excited. But now I will stop! Hahaha, here you are!

Jumin

Your husband was pretty excited when you showed him the flight tickets to your homeland, Copenhagen in Denmark.

He got even more excited, when you told him that you wanted to show him something special.

,,My favorite sight for my favorite person!’’ you giggled and hugged the black-haired man.

And it finally came.

September approached and you and Jumin got brought to the airport, ready to go to your home.

,,The Night of Culture in the capital of Denmark,’’ you breathed and watched the amazing view in front of you.

It was dark and just the buildings illuminated the city.

Variety buildings opened their doors to their basements for this single night.

Jumin observed the building in front of him and then the reflection in the water before he turned his eyes to you.

,,You look so beautiful…’’ he told you and stroked your cheek.

,,Jeg elsker dig,’’ you whispered and kissing him, confessing your love to him.

Zen

,,Okay, so, don’t get worked up if several women come to kiss you on your cheek as soon as I am gone,’’ you told your future husband.

Zen decided to ask you to marry him even without his family.

Three years already passed and his family still didn’t accept him.

And Zen knew that it would be wrong to make you wait longer.

One day he simply asked you to marry him and here you were, preparing for your wedding in your homeland in Denmark since you were Danish.

,,Oh, okay…’’ he mumbled.

You sighed and actually confessed that the same would happen to you.

,,Wait, they kiss the bride?’’ he asked you shocked.

You didn’t know that at that point Zen decided to never leave you for a single moment.

,,Danish who aren’t invited will stare too, it’s named Globryllup, stare wedding in your language,’’ you explained, observing him slowly nod.

,,The guests will probably write little songs on well-known melodies,’’ you informed him and opened YouTube, ready to sing the melody to your favorite song as an example.

Zen listened to your voice as you sang to the soft notes of the instruments in the background.

,,I don’t know what Jeg en gård mig bygge vil means, but I love it a lot,’’ he laughed and kissed you.

,,This will be an amazing wedding,’’ you breathed and kissed him again.

Yoosung

,,Oh, Mr Kim, your lunch seems yummy again,’’ a co-worker of Yoosung said as he looked into his plate.

,,Yes,’’ Yoosung laughed ,,my wife is Danish and made me my lunch, it’s named Smørrebrød. Basically it’s rye bread with a lot of butter and then you can put on whatever you want,’’ Yoosung told him.

,,Oh, and what do you have today on your bread?’’ the co-worker kept asking, seeming pretty interested.

Yoosung began to explain with an eagerness that you used a traditional receipt with fish, egg, canned vegetables, and a lot of sauces.

,,So, you eat a lot of your wife’s food at home?’’ he asked again.

,,Well, yes, we cook together but we also eat a lot of Korean food,’’ Yoosung nodded and made a note to himself that he had to buy cinnamon since you wanted to make kanelstang, basically a cinnamon cake.

,,I will bring you something next week, it will be her birthday and we will cook a lot of different food,’’ Yoosung laughed and then finally took a bite of his cold lunch, his favorite to be honest, and enjoyed it to the fullest.

The days off were his favorites, being able to invite over the RFA and eat your good food, and he couldn’t wait for this day to be finally over.

Jaehee

Your girlfriend began to put the cake in the oven while you observed her beautiful long hair.

Jaehee seemed to feel you staring at her as she suddenly turned around and smiled brightly at you.

,,Say,’’ she began ,,do you know how women lived in the past in your country?’’ she asked you.

Your girlfriend was the type of woman who wanted to know everything about the people around her, and so it was with you.

When the both of you began to go out as a couple, she demanded to see your hometown.

She was so happy when you brought her to your home, making you meet your parents and actually confessed that you had two last names.

Back then she confessed that it was an amazing feeling to know something more about the one you love.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of the coffee she prepared for you when you began to tell her, that with the gradual introductions of catholicism women’s rights were increasingly regulated and restricted.

,,Sons and daughters both had the right to inheritance with the difference that sisters would inherit half of the portion of a brother,’’ you explained.

Even though you were sure that this story was totally boring, Jaehee seemed to enjoy listening to you.

,,From the 1780s, schools for secondary education for females were established in the capital but women were only allowed to teach girls or very small boys, don’t ask why,’’ you chuckled.

,,You know,’’ Jaehee spoke up ,,whenever you talk about home your eyes begin to shine brightly and I think that’s beautiful,’’ she confessed, giving you a peak on your nose and biting off a butter cookie, her favorites.

Saeyoung

,,Woah, Saeyoung Choi, you actually disappoint me,’’ you laughed as you tried once again to teach him the alphabet in danish.

,,But the Danoalphabet is complicated, what can I do?’’ he acted and began to play with his fake blonde wing.

,,Aish!’’ you laughed and tried to take away the wing he was wearing.

,,Okay, again,’’ you signed and began to say the masculine forms in danish.

Saeyoung at some point began to complain to you that he didn’t get when he had to write Å and Ø, making it kind of harder for you to go on with the lesson.

,,Okay, wait here, I will make you Glogg,’’ you patted on his back and decided to also take some cookies with you.

,,You are a real danish woman,’’ he laughed.

Glogg was an alcoholic drink made out of wine heated with spices like cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg.

You laughed at his comment and got up.

What you didn’t know at that point was, that Saeyoung could speak the language as if he lived there for ages and just mocked you to have some time with you because you were honestly the best teacher on the world and looking at your blue danish eyes made his heart always melt.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

21.05.2020// 23.35 MEST

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tuz-on-ao3 · 4 years ago

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Hey, I was reading your fic (I really like it by the way! Sasuke's, my favorite character, and I think you wrote him really well :D), and I was wondering, what's your writing process? I know everyone has something different that works for them, but how do you plan out your chapters, or get ideas, or things like that (very vague, I know, I'm sorry)?

Hiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!! Thank you sugar plum for reading Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done and liking my characterization of Sasuke, it’s very heartwarming and I appreciate it.

As for my writing process, oof. As you know everyone’s writing process is really different and it has been a joy to learn more about other people’s process to help figure out what works for me. This is something you can absolutely cherry pick with and try things out for the first time.

Timing: some people write better at certain points during the day, some people can start writing at 5am or write till 3am in the morning with a late start. I am a mix of both. I can start writing around 9am because that’s when my internal ticker is like “Let’s go to work now!” It’s just how my school and internship schedule line up. I also just write when I am bored(while in class sometimes) and late at night if I really have the momentum. Which happened for some of the chapters I have written for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done. So figure out what works for you. Also, timing myself sometimes helps, I use Pomodoro as a way to keep track of my work, I don’t necessarily take my short breaks.

Initial phase of writing: I draft first and I backwards outline as I go along and then I hit a wall. The idea circulates in the back of my mind and I either get a sense of a scene or a situation that I want the characters to go into and I start writing. Writing the story informs me where it’s going to go, it comes to me during the process. However, I will hit a wall. The fics I write are rarely short(shoutout to the people who can do short and sweet, your sense of pacing is unreal and I bow to your greatness) so there is a lot of worldbuilding, plot, and character development that needs to happen. Important thing to note, just because you are writing fanfiction doesn’t mean you can skip worldbuilding. It is very important!!!!!! It doesn’t need to be the crazy amount that I do but you need to set your reader up in a place and time so give some context.

Timeline: Things happen at certain places and times, and my characters will be a certain age when it happens, so I need to keep track. One of the walls I’ve hit is that for my current posted fic Sasuke spends time in jail, but how much time was not made clear in my non existent early planning and that changes the way things happen. And how old he is, and how much time should I spend on that prison sentence. If it was a long time then I need to talk about it as a life event that will have consequences throughout the entire fic, or if he was just detained until his lawyers came that changes Sasuke’s character. It also is a good way to talk about the criminal justice system of Konoha that I am making up. So I keep track of everyone’s ages, and birthdays, and sometimes I change them. I mean it is really hard for me to write baby ninja that go out into the battlefield when they are four years old and not make the entire fic about a shitty world like that. I don’t want to do that, it’s too fucking hard, and fluff feeds my soul. Also, seasons!!! That changes the way you set up your environment as well, from what I can tell Fire Country should have a monsoon season since they are so forested and are located near the equator of their world. So when that happens, if I decide to include that, is important for pacing of the story. I mean how long should this go on? Also, romance in the rain *hitn hint wink wink* who knows.

Outlining: I didn’t use to be an outline and to some extent I still am not. I have done a previous post explaining a little bit of it but I backwards outline to keep track of what is happening because it’s a lot of detail and I don’t want to make mistakes. However, spreadsheets are my jam. I didn’t use to be this way but my internship has changed me and now I like spreadsheets as a way to be organized. Huzzah *throws confetti in the air* to being a boring adult person! There are a couple of way to do this but first actual writing notes:

5 commandments of story

Inciting incident

Progressive complications

Crisis

Climax

Resolution

This is something that helped me a lot when it came to structure, because sometimes my plot points are all happening at the same time and I’m like this makes no goddamn sense, what is happening. Story Grid is a podcast, and a book, and a website that can help you talk about structure. They can also talk to you about the Hero's journey. Take or leave whatever works for you because a lot of their stuff doesn’t work for me. But in doing their spreadsheets and exercises I learned what doesn’t work in a story. It’s how I realized pacing was a problem in my writing, and that I needed to take time away.

So they have sample spreadsheets that break down books into scenes, turning points, characters on stage, etc. Take what works and leave what doesn’t.

Back to spreadsheets, I have a story grid one for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done which I will backwards outline for the chapters I have already posted and a weird visual index card thing with the five commandments on my computer to help me figure out what is happening in my story.

It looks kind of like five boxes side by side with the five commandments written on each one.

Sometimes there is more than one box for progressive complication and that is fine, it is also fine if every scene you write doesn’t have a resolution, because by the end of the fic you will have one. I split this up by chapter, expected word count, POV.

Word count: Some people care about this, some people don’t. I don’t write stuff for ‘Maybe’ that is less than 10000 each chapter, there is way too much going on in the fic to do short chapters. For my other works in progress I find that I will be writing shorter, which is both easier and harder because it needs me to be concise and clear. Anyway, I do take notes from Story Grid in this because 50% of my words have to be for my middle build, while 25% each go to the opening hook and to the ending payoff. A scene is about 1200-2000 words.

Wiggle Room: Shit happens, you don’t do as much one day and you do a lot another. It’s okay, your story will evolve at certain points, it will tell you what to do. Don’t worry about it that much.

Struggle/villainy: Protagonists are often defined by their antagonists, and if that is the type of story you are writing make sure you spend just as much time on the villain of your story as you do the hero. They are major actors and deserve the attention. When I talk about the Akatsuki I am thinking that they are an international terrorist organization hellbent on kidnapping people that are systematically treated as weapons. There are a lot of moving parts for this. Also the characters themselves, Pein and Konana are radicalized in my story from peaceful revolutionaries to violent ones because they watched the leader of an institution murder their best friend, that will cause personal and political damage. It informs the way I write them or will.

Sasuke's struggle isn’t necessarily against a person, it is against himself. He wants a home because when he was little the one place where he felt safe was violated by his own brother, that is a hell of a trauma. Then he left his former home to go to Oto. Place has a huge part to play in Sasuke’s characterization and I tag homemaking in my fic because I want to show the process of creating a home for yourself as a process of revival and change and hope and vulnerability. It is a huge emotional labor of love and will be a focal point in the fic. That’s why I spend so much time talking about these goddamn renovations and art deco, it matters. This is a boy who has traveled all over the world and is now trying to put all the pieces of himself into one place, how he does it will be incredibly revealing of his characters.

Character: Emotional arcs are important for everyone. Try to figure out what your character is going to go through. It helps so much. Victoria Schwab asks her characters three questions:

What do they fear?

What do they want?

What are they willing to do to get what they want?

See if this helps. Also, understand that you got to develop your side characters as well, they act as a foil for the main character and add richness to the story, you will notice if they are flat. Understand the dynamics they bring to the story and to the world. Are they a woman in a field that is more socially acceptable for men? How does that affect them? What does gender look like in this world and how does this affect your characterization? Have they gone through physical/emotional trauma? Because that shit will keep coming up in a story, healing takes time. Also this is a fanfic, do whatever you want honey bear.

Vocab: the lovely @slexenskee told me to have a running doc of vocabulary and I am trying to do that.

I also have a running doc for a fic/character where I put all my brainstorming, little scenes, lines, vibes, questions into. And a doc for the synopsis of any new fic ideas I get.

Inspiration: Read, a lot. I read fics, I read fiction and fantasy books, I read non fiction and I read about other people’s writing process. I read the news, I read twitter threads, I read random quotes on Pinterest. I watch tv shows and take note of how they do characterization or pacing or plot. I listen to music, I couldn’t live without it. I am on Pinterest looking for vibes or aesthetics for my fics. When I first started writing, since my fic was inspired by another fic, I was worried it would be too similar, that worry is fading because I am doing more writing, and more reading as well. But you must consume culture in order to produce it. Also take breaks, sometimes you figure stuff out if you leave it alone or talk to friends about it. If you reach out to me about it, I will do my best to help so feel free.

IMPORTANT: DO NOT BE A RACIST/HOMOPHOBIS/TRANSPHOBIC/MISOGYNIST. UNDERSTAND THAT WHEN YOU WRITE A FANFICTION THE CHARACTERS ARE CODED IN A CERTAIN WAY. DON’T GO AROUND MAKING PEOPLE OF COLOR WHITE OR MORE LIGHT SKINNED THAN THEY ARE. WOMEN AND NON BINARY PEOPLE EXIST ALWAYS, IF YOU ARE NOT WRITING THEM INTO YOUR WORLD THAT MEANS YOU ARE MARGINALIZING THEM IN YOUR WORLD AND IN YOUR MIND. IF YOU ARE CISGENDERED BE DAMN CAREFUL ABOUT WRITING TRANS NARRATIVES, PROBABLY DON’T. WHEN I DECIDED TO INCLUDE MY OWN CULTURE INTO SASUKE’S CHARACTER AND PAST I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE HIM LESS EAST ASIAN BUT TO ADD PARTS OF MYSELF TO THE WORLD. ACCEPT AND ADAPT TO CRITICISM COMING YOUR WAY IN THIS SENSE. I AM SURE YOU WILL BE FINE, THIS IS JUST A STANDARD DISCLAIMER.

This was really long, and I hope you won't mind. Thanks again for this question, and let me know how your writing goes. Also listen to Deadline City the podcast.

#answers #fic writing #process #naruto

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 6 years ago

Text

3-Ways Are All Fine And Dandy Until Someone Catches Feelings ~ Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

Lust Covered Cherry Blossoms

Words: 2345

Warning: Biting (duh), kitten kink, dirty talk, slight degradation, blowjob, cum play, bareback (condoms are boring in smut, be safe kids!), and as usual very strong language. This is just straight up filthy bxb smut so fair warning, read at your own risk!

A/N: Ngl, I like this chapter, a lot. Guilty hehe. But yeah, I hope you enjoy, it’s a lot lmao

The first time Hoseok and Changkyun were away after you had made the relationship official, they had no clue how to act normal—being unusually handsy, excessively teasing each other, their typical clinginess dramatically heightened, caused the other boys to suspect something was going on that they didn’t know about. After a while, they were bound to find out or, at the very least, ask questions, but that was future Hoseok and Changkyun’s problem. The problem right now consisted of them both missing you, but Hoseok was craving attention and Changkyun seemed to be too tense to even notice Hoseok’s loneliness. Luckily, they were rooming together, otherwise things would’ve been much more complicated.

Changkyun was lounging on one of the beds, mindlessly flipping through the channels, but not paying attention to whatever he randomly landed on. Hoseok’s voice brought him out of the weird daze he didn’t know he was under, “Kkukkung, you’ve been so distant all day. Are you ok?”

“‘m fine.” He mumbled in response, changing his position so he was facing the TV with his legs stretched out and his arms behind his head, supporting it.

“Are you sure? You seem really tense. I’m worried about you.” Hoseok tilted his head, studying the younger man intently; Changkyun didn’t answer, he only grunted stubbornly. The small smile on Hoseok’s lips transformed into a smirk as he crawled over the bed to get off and saunter over to Changkyun, “Now I know you’re tense because you only get this stubborn when you’re tense, what’s got you like this?”

“Just a lot going on.” Changkyun’s brief, vague, reply made Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Well, that doesn’t tell me much. Do you need your shoulders rubbed or something? Want me to order room service?”

Changkyun frantically waved him off, “I’m trying to watch my show.”

The older man chuckled, “You don’t even know what ‘your show’ is. I have an idea that could maybe ease some of your stress.”

“Yeah, ok,” Changkyun mumbled sarcastically, eyes immediately widening when Hoseok slung his leg over him and cautiously sat in his lap, “What are you doing?” He whispered to the man perched on his thighs.

Smirk still present on his face, Hoseok leaned forward to brush his lips against the shell of Changkyun’s ear, “What does it look like I’m doing? I already told you, I’m trying to be a good hyung and relieve your stress.” He nipped at the younger man’s earlobe, urging a hushed moan to slip past his parted lips, “Any requests?” He asked before leaving a sloppy trail of kisses down the side of Changkyun’s neck.

His back arched at the sensation of Hoseok nibbling at a sensitive area under his ear, something he now wanted so desperately to do to him, “Let me mark you anywhere I want and as much as I want.”

He felt Hoseok smirk against his skin, “And what do you expect me to say to the makeup noonas when they’re trying to cover up your mess?”

Changkyun laughed airily, “It’s a beautiful mess, you’re not supposed cover up art.”

Hoseok scoffed, “I don’t think that’ll go over very well.” He bit at the younger man’s flesh especially hard prompting Changkyun to yelp out another moan and squirm under his weight, “Hmm, I see why you like biting so much. Such cute reactions.”

“Well, w-what am I going t-to - ahh! - say when they a-ask about, about my m-marks?” Changkyun stuttered out, already beginning to quiver with pleasure.

The older man hummed against his skin, “You’ll think of something.”

Instead of relinquishing control completely to Hoseok, Changkyun growled deeply and grabbed Hoseok’s hips sternly, “Okay, you’ve had your fun. It’s my turn now.” He successfully flipped them over so that Hoseok was underneath him and removed his own shirt before shimmying Hoseok’s up and off his muscular torso. Blindly throwing the articles of clothing over his shoulder, Changkyun was already breathless as he captured the older man’s lips in a heated, desperate kiss, Hoseok clung onto him in a hopeless effort to get even closer. “You’re like a cat, wanting so much attention, it’s cute,” Changkyun whispered, amusement evident in his hushed voice.

Hoseok stopped him suddenly, his mind wandered to you and what you would say; worry washed over his reddened face, “Should we actually be doing all this without her?”

Changkyun chuckled while gently pushing the hair out of the other man’s eyes, “Knowing her, she’d probably think it was ridiculously hot and be all for coupling up whenever we feel like it.”

“You’re probably right.” He smiled warmly, reaching up to Changkyun’s neck to pull him to his lips again.

The younger man hummed against his mouth, “We’ll have to skype her sometime so she can watch us. Would you like that? Knowing you’re on camera, would that make you hornier? Would it make you cum harder knowing someone was watching you?”

Hoseok’s back arched off the bed, his wanton moans muffled by their lips together, “Yes. Fuck yes. I’d cum so hard for you.”

Changkyun’s laugh turned carnal, “Maybe some other time. I want you all to myself right now, kitten.” His fingertips danced along Hoseok’s abs, teasing the sensitive skin at the waistband of his sweatpants as he sucked the older man’s tongue into his mouth, his thigh brushed over his hard, twitching cock. Hoseok whimpered and wound his fingers tighter in Changkyun’s waves; the younger man’s groan was muffled by their mouths sloppily moving together, too caught up in each other to care what kind of mess they were making.

He pulled away to nip at Hoseok’s jawline, bruising into the delicate skin the colors of lust covered cherry blossoms, lapping and kissing at the marks he left in his wake while slowly inching the waistband further down his hips to expose more perfect flesh, begging to be poisoned by his teeth. Hoseok squirmed under his grasp, whining at the lazy pace Changkyun was moving along his body, “Hurry, I want...you.” He breathed, yearning for much more than the younger man was currently giving him.

Changkyun, again, chuckled darkly, “So impatient, are we now, kitten? How about I make it so that you’re begging me to stop instead?”

Hoseok nodded eagerly, intently watching as he slid the material completely off, writhing once more as his aching cock was exposed to the over-air-conditioned atmosphere of the hotel room. Changkyun shoved the articles of clothing off the bed and grabbed one of Hoseok’s calves in each hand, pushing his legs back until his knees were almost resting on the bed next to his head. The older man let out a breathy moan when Changkyun crudely spit at his entrance and smiled slyly, “No lube. Guess this is the way it has to be.”

“Why wouldn’t you pack that? That seems pretty important…” Hoseok struggled to speak, given his compromised position.

Changkyun squeezed at the supple flesh of Hoseok’s ass cheeks, smirking against his skin, “Well, it’s not like I expected some horny idiot to jump me! Why didn’t you bring it?”

Hoseok only huffed in response, toes curling when Changkyun finally began to lap at his hole. “Fuck,” he shivered, white-knuckling the sheets at his sides. Changkyun began to gradually loosen Hoseok up. “You— Fuck!” The older man shouted as Changkyun prodded at his prostate with his middle finger while sucking one of his balls into his mouth, “Oh god—” Hoseok whimpered, “You haven’t even touched my dick yet and I already feel like I’m gonna cum. What are you doing to me?”

The older man again felt Changkyun grin against him, “I already told you, making you beg for me to stop.”

Changkyun slipped another finger in Hoseok’s tight hole, causing him to gasp and drop his head back against the mattress, “Shit…” Hoseok squirmed, reaching up to clutch at Changkyun’s arm.

“Want me to stop yet, kitten?”

Hoseok shook his head and tried to urge Changkyun’s arm to move faster, “No. More. I want more…” He whined desperately, “God, please, more!”

Changkyun’s grin widened, loving how weak he made Hoseok, how well he listened, how cute he was when he begged for him—he loved every minute, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes…” Hoseok breathed, groaning deep in his chest, toes curling again as he felt his high fast approaching, “Hah, gonna cum!”

The younger man hummed, pulling out his fingers and sitting back on his legs, ceasing all stimulation, and Hoseok whimpered helplessly. Changkyun gently laid his legs back onto the bed, caressing the muscular flesh of Hoseok’s thighs; the older man’s ragged breathing began to slow, prompting Changkyun to lean forward to take his weeping cock into his mouth, once again encouraging Hoseok’s close release. Deep-throating him, Changkyun clutched at his hips while Hoseok writhed in pleasure underneath his weight, “But...I...wait--Ahh, fuck I’m gonna cum!”

Hoseok bucked up into Changkyun’s mouth; tears pricked at the younger man’s eyes as he gagged around Hoseok’s thick cock, nails digging deeper into his skin. He pulled away just before Hoseok could release and the whine that came out of him was the definition of sinful. Changkyun caved in, throwing all thoughts of edging him further out the window, setting Hoseok’s dick against his tongue and pumping it a few times before the older man came in his mouth, whispered curses tumbling from his bruised lips as he stared into Changkyun’s eyes and emotional tears began to blur his own vision.

“Shit…” He whispered as Changkyun closed his mouth and smirked. A devilish look flashed in his eyes as he crawled up next to Hoseok, the older man sat up weakly. Changkyun chuckled smugly, taking a seat in Hoseok’s lap and clutching his face in his hands, Hoseok’s parted lips provided the perfect opportunity to kiss them with his own. Changkyun’s surprise of not swallowing caused the older man to groan strongly, cum beginning to ooze out around their mouths as they moved in synch. They kissed for what seemed like hours, savoring the bitter taste of Hoseok’s cum between their wild tongues and swollen lips.

Changkyun pulled away, cum dribbled down both of their chins, and he smiled cunningly when he noticed the beautifully fucked out expression on Hoseok’s face. Changkyun trailed his fingers over Hoseok’s jawline, swiping up some of the sticky white substance that had escaped with his thumb and had the older man suck it off blissfully.

“I think you’ve got one more for me, kitten.”

Hoseok was feeling much too euphoric to protest to cumming a second time so close together so he just smiled weakly.

“On your hands and knees, now.” Changkyun wiped his mouth and got up to watch as the older man obediently obliged, wiggling his ass slightly and scooting back closer to Changkyun’s waiting cock, “So eager for my dick, huh?” Hoseok looked over his shoulder and nodded, biting his lip, “And not even the slightest bit ashamed about it, are you, cockslut?”

“No…” Hoseok whimpered, grinding back against Changkyun’s dick, still hidden behind the fabric of his underwear. “I’m not ashamed— I need you.”

Changkyun hummed, “‘Need me’? ‘Need me’ for what?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Cock twitching in its confines at Hoseok’s blatant request, Changkyun clutched at the soft skin of Hoseok’s ass, dipping down to leave as many marks as he could over the expanse of his ass cheeks before grinding his tongue against the older man’s quivering hole, re-moistening it in place of lube to take his dick.

Hoseok whined at the sensation, his own cock quickly growing harder and harder by the second; his fingers wound around fistfuls of the sheets, “Please, take me already!” He practically screamed into the mattress.

Changkyun chuckled against him, “As you wish?” He slipped out of his boxers and spit into his hand, coating his dick with his saliva and readying himself at Hoseok’s entrance; the older man gasped loudly as he was filled to the brim. Changkyun leaned forward to nip marks into the skin of Hoseok’s neck and shoulders as he adjusted to the size. Heart pounding as the slight bit of pain subsided, Hoseok urged Changkyun to move, his own hips instinctively bucking to meet the younger man’s thrusts.

“So… good… fuck…” Hoseok moaned in time with Changkyun’s thrusts.

“That’s it, kitten.” Changkyun straightened up, “Taking me so well.” He admired the way his cock disappeared past Hoseok’s tight ring while whiny moans passed his own lips. Getting overwhelmed at how hot he found it, Changkyun immediately yanked Hoseok up flush against his chest to pound into him at a new angle.

Hoseok dropped his head back onto Changkyun’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed as he reached up to grip at the back of his neck, savoring the intense sensation when Changkyun’s fingers trailed over his dick. Again craving release, Hoseok began to thrust into Changkyun’s hand, matching the younger man’s pace, both of them nearing their end.

“Fuck, kitten, make me cum…” Changkyun groaned into his ear, Hoseok’s panting breaths almost drowning out his voice as he clenched around his cock. Changkyun’s nails dug into the older man’s hip and he bit at Hoseok’s shoulder to keep his shouts and moans at bay, stilling inside him as he painted his walls with his hot seed.

Changkyun swiped his thumb over Hoseok’s slit and he whimpered in response, fingers tangling in Changkyun’s hair once more. With a few more pumps, Hoseok clutched Changkyun’s wrist, with a strangled moan passing his lips, he came, hard, for the second time that night.

The two of them stayed in that position long enough to catch their breaths, both of them groaning at the overstimulation when Changkyun pulled out.

“Well, I guess we’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” Hoseok chuckled as he looked at the cum-covered sheets below him.

“I’d say mine is pretty well fucked,” Changkyun snorted, Hoseok hit him for the stupid joke and both of them headed off to clean up before returning to the clean bed to sleep away their evident exhaustion.

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thegoldenyears-memories · 5 years ago

Photo

♕ GLAMOROUS, a lucinda talkalot mix ♕

“i just took a dna test, turns out i'm 100% that bitch.”

( listen )

01. YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN de billie eilish ( bite my tongue, bide my time, wearing a warning sign, wait till the world is mine. you should see me in a crown, i'm gonna run this nothing town. watch me make 'em bow one by one by one one by one by. you should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound. watch me make 'em bow one by one by one one by one by one. )

02. BRAVADO de lorde ( 'cause i was raised up to be admired, to be noticed. i'm faking glory, lick my lips, toss my hair and turn the smile on. i was frightened of every little thing that i thought was out to get me down, to trip me up and laugh at me. but i learnt not to want the quiet of the room with no one around to find me out. i want the applause, the approval, the things that make me go oh, oh, oh, oh. )

03. CONFIDENT de demi lovato ( it's time for me to take it, i'm a boss right now. not gonna fake it, not when you go down. 'cause this is my game and you better come to play. i used to hold my freak back, now i'm letting go. i make my own choice. bitch, i run the show. so leave the lights on. no, you can't make me behave. so you say i'm complicated, that i must be outta my mind, but you've had me underrated, rated, rated. what's wrong with being, what's wrong with being, what's wrong with being confident? it's time to get the chains out, is your tongue tied up? 'cause this is my round and i'm dangerous. and you can get off, but it's all about me tonight. )

04. FOCUS de ariana grande ( i know what i came to do and that ain't gonna change. so go ahead and talk your talk, cause i won't take the bait. i'm over here doing what i like, i'm over here working day and night. i can tell you're curious, it's written on your lips. ain't no need to hold it back, go ahead and talk your shit. i know you're hoping that i'll react, i know you're hoping i'm looking back. just come and get it, let them say what they say, 'cause i'm about to put them all away. focus on me, fuh, fuh, focus on me (you know i like it when you focus on me). )

05. JUICE de lizzo ( mirror, mirror on the wall, don't say it 'cause i know i'm cute (ooh, baby). i'm like chardonnay, get better over time (so you know). heard you say i'm not the baddest, bitch, you lie (haha). it ain't my fault that i'm out here makin' news, i'm the pudding in the proof, gotta blame it on my juice. no, i'm not a snack at all, look, baby, i'm the whole damn meal (ooh, baby). )

06. FANCY de iggy azalea ft. charli xcx ( i'm so fancy, you already know. i'm in the fast lane, from l.a. to tokyo. i'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold? remember my name, 'bout to blow. )

07. PRIMADONNA de marina ( primadonna girl, yeah, all i ever wanted was the world. i can't help that i need it all, the primadonna life, the rise and fall. you say that i'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault. got you wrapped around my finger, babe, you can count on me to misbehave. beauty queen on a silver screen, living life like i'm in a dream. i know i've got a big ego, i really don't know why it's such a big deal, though. )

08. FASHION! de lady gaga ( fashion! looking good and feeling fine. fashion! step into the room like it's a catwalk. fashion! singing to the tune just to keep them talking. fashion! walk into the light, display your diamonds and pearls in mine. fashion! married to the night, i own the world. look at me now! i feel on top of the world in my fashion! fashion! make up on your face, a new designer dress. )

09. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO de taylor swift ( the role you made me play of the fool, no, i don't like you. but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of time. honey, i rose up from the dead, i do it all the time. i've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined. i check it once, then i check it twice, oh! ooh, look what you made me do, look what you made me do, look what you just made me do. the world moves on, another day, another drama, drama. but not for me, not for me, all i think about is karma. and then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure, maybe i got mine, but you'll all get yours. )

10. TENNIS COURT de lorde ( don't you think that it's boring how people talk? making smart with their words again, well i'm bored. because i'm doing this for the thrill of it, killin' it. never not chasing a million things i want. getting pumped up on the little bright things i bought. it's a new art form showing people how little we care. we're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear. )

11. WASABI de little mix ( love to hate me, crazy, shady, spit me out like hot wasabi. love to hate me, praise me, shame me, either way you talk about me. i love the way you talk about me, look at how far it got me. ooh, baby, you (yes you), i can feel you hatin' on me. you, baby, you (yeah you), i'm glad to be your inspiration. who, baby, who's (guess who) the topic of your conversation? i-i-i am (i am). all the ugly things you say come and say 'em to my face. watchin' me, i ain't watching you (watchin' you). what you see, i hope you like the view (check it out). best believe you'll never get into me. all these words run through me. )

12. MR. KNOW IT ALL de kelly clarkson ( when somebody tells you something 'bout you, think that they know you more than you do, so you take it down another pill to swallow. mr. bring-me-down, well ya, ya like to bring me down, don't you? but i ain't laying down, baby, i ain't goin' down. can't nobody tell me how it's gonna be, nobody gonna make a fool out of me. baby, you should know that i lead not follow. 'cause baby you don't know a thing about me. )

13. CASTLE de halsey ( sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise. i'm headed straight for the castle, they wanna make me their queen. and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying that i probably shouldn't be so mean. i'm headed straight for the castle, they've got the kingdom locked up. and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut. there's no use crying about it. )

14. BURNING GOLD de christina perri ( looking for an exit in this world of fear, i can see the path that leads the way. looking through the window to a world of dreams, i can see my future slip away. honey you won't get there if you don't believe. i wish the wind would carry a change. i've had enough, i'm standing up. i need, i need a change. i'm setting fire to the life that i know, let's start a fire everywhere that we go. we're starting fires, we're starting fires 'til our lives are burning gold. looking back i see i had the flame in me, i'm the wind that’s carrying change. )

15. MEAN de taylor swift ( you, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me. you have knocked me off my feet again, got me feeling like a nothing. you have pointed out my flaws again, as if i don't already see them. i walk with my head down, trying to block you out 'cause i'll never impress you. i just wanna feel okay again. but the cycle ends right now, 'cause you can't lead me down that road and you don't know, what you don't know, someday i'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean. why you gotta be so mean? )

16. DONATELLA de lady gaga ( 'cause she walks so bad, like it feels so good, listen to her radiate her magic even though she knows she's misunderstood. what do you wanna wear this spring? what do you think is the new thing? what do you wanna wear this season? i'm gonna wear designer and forget your name. )

17. WORK BITCH de britney spears ( don't stop now, just be the champion. work it hard, like it's your profession. watch out now, 'cause here it comes. no time to quit now, just time to get it now. you wanna live fancy, live in a big mansion, party in france? you better work bitch, now get to work bitch. )

18. 7 RINGS de ariana grande ( buy myself all of my favorite things. been through some bad shit, i should be a sad bitch. who would have thought it'd turn me to a savage? i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it. whoever said money can't solve your problems must not have had enough money to solve 'em. they say, "which one?" i say, "nah, i want all 'em." happiness is the same price as "red-bottoms." my smile is beamin', my skin is gleamin'. the way it shine, i know you've seen it, you've seen it. i don't mean to brag, but i be like, "put it in the bag." )

19. BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY de rihanna ( bitch better have my money! y'all should know me well enough. bitch better have my money! please don't call me on my bluff, pay me what you owe me. don't act like you forgot, i call the shots, shots, shots. )

20. HOMEMADE DYNAMITE de lorde ( i'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies. yeah, awesome right? our rules, our dreams, we're blind. blowing shit up with homemade dynamite. our friends, our drinks, we get inspired. blowing shit up with homemade dynamite. )

21. ANGELA de the lumineers ( but you held your course to some distant war in the corners of your mind. were you safe and warm in your coat of arms, with your fingers in a fist? strangers in this town, they raise you up just to cut you down. oh, angela it's a long time coming. )

22. THE OUTSIDE de taylor swift ( so how can i ever try to be better? nobody ever lets me in. i can still see you, this ain't the best view, on the outside looking in and i've been a lot of lonely places, i've never been on the outside. you saw me there, but never knew, that i would give it all up to be a part of this, a part of you. and now it's all too late. so you see... you could've helped if you had wanted to. but no one notices until it's too late to do anything. )

23. SORRY NOT SORRY de demi lovato ( now i'm out here looking like revenge, feelin' like a 10, the best i ever been. now payback is a bad bitch, and baby, i'm the baddest. you're fuckin' with a savage. can't have this, can't have this. and it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah. baby, i'm sorry (i'm not sorry). being so bad got me feelin' so good. feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned. yeah, i'm on fire and i know that it burns. )

24. CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF MYSELF de santigold ft. bc unidos ( if i wasn't me, i can be sure i'd wanna be. i'm pretty major and i'll say it out loud. living a living a fantasy, live in, i live in my vanity. all i wanna do is what i do well. ain't a gambler but honey i'd put money on myself. i'll tell you that i can't get enough, i'm on a roll, i keep turning it up. i'm my biggest fan and i can't get enough. i can't get enough, i'mma say it, it's true, i can't get enough of myself. )

25. CIRCUS de britney spears ( there's only two types of people in the world: the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe. well baby i'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl, don't like the backseat, gotta be first. i'm like the ringleader, i call the shots. i feel the adrenaline moving through my veins, spotlight on me and i'm ready to break. all the eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus. )

26. I’M EVERY WOMAN de chaka khan ( i'm every woman, it's all in me. anything you want done, baby, i'll do it naturally. i ain't braggin' 'cause i'm the one, you just ask me ooh and it shall be done. and don't bother to compare, 'cause i've got it, i've got it, i've got it. )

27. APPLAUSE de lady gaga ( i live for the applause, applause, applause. live for the way that you cheer and scream for me, the applause, applause, applause. (a-p-p-l-a-u-s-e) make it real loud, (a-p-p-l-a-u-s-e) put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. )

28. STILL SANE de lorde ( hair is dripping, hiding that i'm terrified, but this is summer, playing dumber than in fall. everything i say falls right back into everything i'm not. riding around on the bikes, we're still sane. i won't be her, tripping over on-stage. hey, it's all cool, i still like hotels, but i think that'll change. hey, promise i can stay good. (everything feels right) i'm little, but i'm coming for the crown, i'm little, but i'm coming for you. (chase paper, get it) i'm little but i'm coming for the title held by everyone who's up. all work and no play, never made me lose it. all business all day, keeps me up a level. only bad people live to see their likeness set in stone, what does that make me? )

29. GLAMOROUS de fergie ft. ludacris ( if you ain't got no money take your broke ass home. g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s. poppin' champagne, livin' the life in the fast lane. wear them gold and diamonds rings, all them things don't mean a thing. chaperons and limousines, shopping for expensive things. i'm not clean, i'm not pristine. i'm no queen, i'm no machine. i got problems up to here, i've got people in my ear telling me these crazy things that i don't want to know (fuck y'all). )

╰ ❄ feliz navidad y año nuevo, ale.

—; de: andy ( @dorcasdoemeadowes )

—; para: ale ( @talkalotxl )

Ale:

Siempre que me tocas, me quedo como: meep, help, ¿qué pongo? Porque sabes que tiendo más a mandar mensajes enormes a las 3 de la mañana llenos de mis sentimientos, a algo que me propongo, pero vamos a intentarlo. <3

Primero que nada, espero te guste tu mix :3. La verdad es que adoro a Lucinda, es hermosa y me encanta como la llevas. La foto de la portada es precioooosa, tenía que ponerla, y la contraportada obvio teníamos que ponerle su coronita. Busqué captar como la llevas tú, desde su aburrimiento por el mundo purista, hasta como la trataron mal y eso la hizo la persona que es ahora, pasando por su amor por la atención, el dinero *oso que lanza billetes*, su lado vengativo, su pasión por la moda, cómo finge cual buena hija purista, su ambición, su sentido de superioridad y al final, en la última canción, cómo sabe dentro de ella que en realidad estos lujos y ser parte de los "puristas", no significa nada, que es vacío. Disfrútalo muuuuuucho, bebé. Gracias por traer a Lucinda al dash, we luv her.

Bueno, ¿qué puedo decirte? Eres mi mejor amiga. Gracias por serlo. Gracias por ser la persona a la que puedo contarle las cosas más raras, que más me hacen odiarme, las que escondo de la vergüenza que me dan, y que aún puedas ver todo lo bueno en mí; gracias por soportar todo el dolor y ansiedad que he cargado conmigo estos años, por tratar de entender lo mejor que puedes mi enfermedad, por hacerme ver que a pesar de que yo no siempre lo note, voy mejorando, y por ser tan paciente; gracias por esos momentos donde me llamaste la atención porque sabías que no tenía que ir por algún lado, o me estaba lastimando, por decirme cuando meto la pata, porque eso hacen las verdaderas amigas; gracias por protegerme del mundo y de la gente que ha querido lastimarme, me siento muy segura contigo, incluso si estás a muchos kilómetros de distancia; gracias por no hacerme sentir ridícula, por escuchar sobre mis gustos y pasiones, por empujarme a seguirlos, por recordarme mi valor, y en especial por verme como la persona que soy. Me conoces mucho mejor que la mayoría del mundo, y el hecho de que veas en mí tantas cosas buenas, y me las recuerdes cuando yo no puedo, es algo que te agradeceré siempre.

Ale, sabes que vamos de la mano en este mundo, que la vida no es fácil y lo hemos entendido, pero también es hermosa, fantástica, y nunca estamos solas. Espero este año consigas verte como yo te veo: Una mujer sumamente inteligente, que no se deja pisotear por nadie, que no se queda callada, ni se conforma, con una fortaleza enorme (eres de las personas más fuertes que conozco, en verdad), que cae y siempre se levanta porque para ella no existe opción, una persona admirable, una chica hermosa, alguien de quien aprendo día a día, que me ha enseñado a respetarme más, a no conformarme, a ser más amable conmigo misma, me has ayudado a crecer, y que felicidad haber crecido contigo y continuar creciendo. Espero este año tú seas más amable contigo misma, que perdones tus errores, que entiendas que está bien si un día no te sientes bien, que veas más cualidades que defectos en ti, que lances a la basura todo el odio que tengas en tu corazón para ti misma, que te ames y sientas que nadie te puede detener, y que nadie puede decirte que no vales la pena, porque tú sabes que sí. Más que nada te deseo felicidad y tranquilidad contigo misma.

Todo va a estar bien. Sé que es algo cliché que normalmente digo, y que yo veo el mundo más rosado, pero al final está bien. El tiempo cura las cosas, el mundo tiene bondad (tú misma eres muestra de ello), no somos la opinión de otra persona, lo que nos define es lo que está en nuestro corazón (y en el tuyo hay muchas cosas hermosas), y que más que tener miedo al futuro, debemos emocionarnos, porque cosas buenas vienen, gente que nos hará sonreír, veremos lugares hermosos, viviremos cosas geniales y sanaremos. Si ya estamos en este punto, imagina todo lo que podemos lograr. Espero siempre sepas que nunca estás sola, Joanna y yo estamos ahí siempre. Juntas estamos en esta vida y sabemos que todo es mejor cuando tienes en quién apoyarte. Gracias por permitirme estar a tu lado.

Te amo muchísimo. Así mucho, mucho, mucho. Muuuuuuucho. Mucho, mucho, mucho. A lot, mucho, muchísimo, mucho, mucho. MUCHO. Mucho. :)

Feliz Navidad atrasada y año nuevo. Eres una mujer fuerte, poderosa y hermosa, nunca lo olvides. Mereces el mundo.

Con todo su amor,

— andy ♡. 🎅

#lucinda #santa secreto 2019 #mix

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this-lioness · 5 years ago

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Weekend Review

Long, boring and mundane, as usual, but I find it relaxing.

The last two grocery orders for my Mom were only about 1/3 to 1/2 full, and I knew that wasn’t going to hold her very long. Food is readily available in the stores, it’s just that the stores are no longer doing substitutions for out-of-stock items, so if there are six versions of a given item available online you have to hope that the one you pick is one they have in stock, otherwise you’re not getting anything at all. Your only choice is to keep ordering and ordering and ordering or physically go into the store. Ugh.

There’s a Grocery Outlet up the street from us, and we decided Friday afternoon would probably be less crowded than a Saturday morning, and took our chances going out. We wore masks and gloves, to be safe, and I left most everything home -- purse, glasses, phone. I didn’t want to have to decontaminate more than I absolutely had to.

It went pretty smoothly, all things considered. We have a full decontamination area in the pantry now: drop cloth on the floor, rolling rack with a bleach-water solution, washable wipes, clean grocery bags and gloves. So we bring everything in through the back gate, I spray everything down with bleach (or SimpleGreen, if we’re worried about bleach getting on it) in the pantry, let it sit, then Marc wipes it dry and transfers it either to our own cabinets or into clean bags for my Mom. Produce gets transferred directly to the sink where it’s washed with warm, soapy water and then dried.

Is it enough? I don’t know. It’s certainly a whole process, which makes me feel like we’re doing some amount of good, but I suppose you can’t really know for sure right now.

Saturday morning we had our breakfast biscuit sandwiches and coffee, then packed up (what we thought was) all my Mom’s groceries and drove them over. En route she texted me to ask for Splenda (*sigh*) and a flashlight, because Jim uses a flashlight to navigate to the bathroom at night. By then it was too late, but it turns out we’d forgotten all her frozen items anyway, so I told her I’d bring it the next day.

Dropped everything off with her and then went to Lowes to pick up garden soil and some drainage rock. It was still cold and cloudy out, but warm enough that we got a good hour or so of work done in the back yard -- mostly cleaning up the winter muck.

A few months ago we bought a stack of old icing buckets from a baker ($1 each!) and Marc drilled holes in the bottom and layered them with rock and soil. He also dug up one of the original three blackberry beds which we decided to retire. I’d planned to just toss the canes, but they were already greening up so nicely that he took the chance they could be salvaged and transferred them to three new planters. To my surprise they don’t seem shocked at all, so we may be able to keep them going in a better location!

Marc is debating what to do with the retired bed, but we’ll probably use it to dry firewood or store things off-season.

I went over the blackberry bushes and cut off all the old winter growth and one or two dead canes. They’re greening up beautifully, and one of them has thrown FIVE NEW CANES, two of which have sprouted in the little gap between beds. Complete assholes. I rocked off the gap so it is now unofficially our new third berry bed, and gave it a stern talking-to about behaving itself from now on. I swear to God those canes grew more since just yesterday.

The raspberries are greening up, but not so vigorously. I need the time to get them back in order, frankly -- we have to completely redo the training wire. There’s fucking thistle everywhere, I want to scream. The harder you try to get rid of the stuff the more aggressively it spreads.

Blueberries are greening up as well. I acidified the soil as best I could, but we’re giving them just this year to prove themselves. If they can’t grow berries I can’t spare the garden space, and frankly it’s just too much work trying to acidify their beds. The blackberries and raspberries would literally kill their mother to take over that space, and I’d love to try some gooseberries or something else new and different.

I pulled last year’s baby maples from their winter bed and gave them a once-over. They’ve got tiny little buds on them, it looks like they all made it -- a good five or six at least! I’ve got them in the sun now, anyway, to see if we can coax them fully back to life.

After choring I cleaned litter boxes, showered, then came downstairs and completely tore the pantry apart -- mud room, cabinet pantry, and the two sides of the kitchen island where we normally keep canned goods.

We normally keep a very well-stocked pantry, but I wanted a better idea of everything we had, and it was starting to get cluttered in a way that made it hard to get everything. I spent a good few hours -- and Marc even got into it, and was a huge help -- taking everything out, combining items, moving some bulk goods to air-tight containers, and then sorting it all back new spots.

I had a bunch on hand that was more than we needed, and offered to bring it to my Mom with her frozen stuff. In exchange she offered us some polenta and a few frozen items that neither she nor Jim would eat. Good trade.

I’ve run past Marc the idea of organizing his tool chest as well, which is currently a six-foot-tall column of absolute madness that I have to avert my eyes from, but it seems like that’s going to wait until tomorrow. Ah well.

Had tacos, watched Onward (I wasn’t expecting much but I actually really liked it), played some Animal Crossing and went to bed. Good day.

This morning Marc made chocolate chip waffles and then we popped back out again. The plan was just to drop the groceries off at my Mom’s, but we managed to get a few other things done: brought over the old tiered planter so she can use it for herbs and annuals, and set up the frame for a raised garden bed so she can grow some veggies (with my help, no doubt). Later this week I’ll go over and lay down some weed blocker for her and fill it with soil. I’ve got more than enough broccoli sprouts to spare and I’m sure the same will be true with the peppers, so she’ll have that if nothing else.

Afterwards we hit Lowes again, picking up a few more bags of top soil, bird seed, and more buckets.

Today was absolutely beautiful, cloudy on-and-off but warm and good for gardening. We did a bang up job!

Marc gathered all the old wood paneling and other crap that’s been accumulating and got it into one spot so we can call a haul-away company. He also cleaned up most of the leaf litter from around the yard and helped me organize the little collapsible greenhouse we got for free late last year. It’s really handy, we’re already talking about replacing it with something more permanent.

I planted some of the broccoli sprouts and put them out in the sun. Here’s hoping! The three onion bulbs I planted a few weeks ago were sprouting up green so I got those into a planter and plugged most of the rest of the bulbs into biodegradable containers to see if we can get them growing as well. Onions seem complicated, but I’ll do my best.

I’ve been saving every kind of little container I could get my hands on, these past weeks, and I filled them all up with soil and got some eggplant seeds going as well. The bell peppers are just now starting to sprout, they need a bit longer, but I think they’ll get there. Also planted some pinto beans and cat grass. I’ve still got some baby spinach and pumpkins to get going, but I’m holding onto those for just now.

We sorted the “guest” patio chairs off into the side yard, as we don’t really anticipate having anyone over this summer. We can always break them out again if we need to, it’s easy enough, but right now I’ve got almost every single sunny spot dedicated to something we can grow and eat.

We’ll have tomatoes at some point, too, but I’d prefer to buy them as seedlings. I’m already unsure just how well the current round of babies is going to do. I’m so worried about that broccoli, but I guess at some point you have to just let it do its thing and hope for the best.

I hope everything comes up. I’ve read everything I can, but sometimes it all gets confused and muddled, so at some point I just sort of have to... hope. Supposedly last year’s corn should return, but man... I don’t know. We’ll keep an eye on it. If it hasn’t come up by the time seedlings start appearing in the store we’ll just pull them up and replant. That was a wonderful exercise last year.

We also put out more clover seed in the front (last year’s clover is BOOMING), and spread some wildflower seeds around as well. Marc filled up the bird feeders, hosed off the patio and set up the chairs. We’re going to buy a better pressure washer than the old electric one we have from the old house, both for our use and so my parents don’t have to keep hiring someone to clean their siding. That will make a big difference.

It’s amazing what a difference an afternoon of work made in the back yard -- it looks and feels so much better. Afterwards we got showered up and changed, and then a little bit ago I made some veggie fried brown rice with steamed veggie dumplings. A little later on I’m going to make us some sakura lattes and maybe something light to snack on for dessert.

And how are you?

#oc #personal

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mysticmilks · 6 years ago

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An arranged marriage AU

Brendol decides to force marry his son to a creepy old man and hires mysterious Kylo Ren to kidnap him. Brendol lies to hesitant Kylo that Armitage really wants to marry the man, and kidnapping is just an old tradition. And Kylo agrees!

Chapter 1.

Kylo doesn’t want to agree. The mission is innocent, simple and boring, not his regular thing - escort rich nobleman to his wedding. He wouldn’t even consider it but the family of the man offered a generous amount of money for a one day job, and he decides to go to the meeting and learn more details.

During their secret encounter, he finds out that this mission is not so much about being a guard to the man, but to participate in some elaborate pre-wedding performance. These people have an odd tradition if a pair doesn't want a big celebration the bride or groom-to-be must be kidnapped from their parent's house and "against their will" brought to the secluded location for a ceremony.

If Kylo agrees he will get access to defense plan of a castle, the exact location of his pretense victim's bedroom, the guards will be notified and will let him in. He just needs to act as an intruder, break to the bedroom, preferably throw the window, so theatrically, capture the man and bring him to a small house in nearby mountains where the wedding will happen.

The only obstacle will be a somewhat real fight with a man. According to Brendol, his client and father of a groom, to show love and devotion groom-to-be need to resist and pretend as much as possible.

“The harder the resistance the stronger the love is and happier will be marriage. This tradition came from an action time when a warrior could capture any person they found attractive, perform a ceremony, consume the marriage and after that, the family of a victim could not seek revenge. But you aren’t interested in history lessons, are you Lord Ren?“- he tells Kylo with a condescending smile. Lord wasn’t his title, that was from another order, and old bastard probably know about that, so Kylo decides not to correct him and nods "But it’s still customary to tell the kidnapper that the wedding is unwanted! The victim needs to show that they are chaste, and want to protect this so nobody would think ill of them.” he cringes his nose, like he smells a fart and sips a brandy “ The ritual is often done by friends of a groom, or a groom himself, but rich families like ours can afford to hire … hm … help for more authenticity.”- one more sip-“My son is going to fight pretty hard. Armitage is madly in love, so he begged me to organize this thing. I can’t tell him no, I spoiled the boy, but he is the only one I have. It’s romantic nonsense but it also quite efficient”. -the man chuckles and finishes his drink -"Can you imagine how much money will I save on wedding feast?”

"I see your point, sir" - Kylo says as politely as he can, but it still sounds fake. He is not used to speaking directly with nobles, regularly taking orders through their attendants. But this man wanted to meet with him to organize everything right for his beloved son.

The tradition seems strange but who he is to judge others, in his culture they have a tradition for a groom (or an older person in a couple) to wash feed of bride’s (younger person’s) mother during the change of dishes, which looks as revolting as it sounds, but traditions are traditions, and money is really good so after negotiations he agrees to take the mission.

-My son, even though it was his idea, won't know about specific details of a plan. Not the date or the exact location of a house. He wants it all to be as much a surprise for him as possible.

-What should I do if your son resists too much? - Kylo doubts that this man can put up a real battle against him but some noblemen fancy themselves as great fighters just because they haven't ever sparred with someone who wasn't their servant. It's easy to win over the one who is scared to mess their pretty hairstyle but in a real fight, all these lords and ladies don't know how to defend themselves and not to lose any vital parts.

-He is totally okay with some bruises just don't break any bones, or hurt his face it's his wedding, he wants it to be perfect.

After the kidnapping, he understood what Brendol was talking about. Everything went according to the plan: he went in the middle of the night, to show how client oriented he can be, the back entrance was unguarded as they agreed, climbed to the bedroom window, where his target was soundly sleeping, but when he tried to grab the man, he woke him up.

"What's going on? " - younger Hux asks in a displeased, but not scared voice.

"I came to take you to your destiny, sweetie! Don't resist me, and I won't hurt you." - Kylo prepared this phrase in advance and tries not to laugh and break the character. He doesn't usually talk with his victims, but when he has a rare opportunity to play it's too tempting to add some cliche, maybe he should tell him the whole evil plan in a dramatic tone.

But this redhead must be really into traditions and loves his future-husband so much (and probably he also has a soft spot for acting and pretending), cause he was really committed to the act, he fought tooth and nails, screamed and bit him, before being Kylo successfully manage to tie down and gag him. Now all Ren needs to do is to deliver him to his fiance and get the money, it's as easy as can be.

The sun already has risen, they still have a long road ahead of them. His bite marks and scratches are hurting and Armitage still wriggling and humming not stop for hours and all Kylo wants is to finish this job in silence.

-Enough, I get it, you love a guy, L-O-V-E him, just stop it till we get to weeding!

He did stop for a moment, his eyes big and scared but started once again even more madly! It seems like the man is trying extra hard to remove the gag and say something. He has a pleasant voice, but more screaming is not what Kylo needs after the sleepless night, so he tries to reason with his captive.

-What is wrong with you? There is nobody there except two of us and believe me, I don’t care about your stupid traditions, a need to pretend, all this purity and virginity bullshit. You can save all these games to your so special husband!

More frantic humming muted by gag and Kylo considers for a moment to knock him out and finally enjoy a peace. But he isn’t sure that they’d pay him if groom arrived at the wedding with his pretty face unharmed but with a concussion. And maybe Kylo Ren isn’t a good guy, but he won’t sink to hitting a tied man just because that man is too committed to rituals. He needs to endure a couple of more hours and they will arrive at the place, he’ll get his reward, go to the nearest pub and forgot these strange people and their strange weddings, he may even find somebody for himself there to warm his bed and his cock. Maybe even redhead.

After particularly loud noise, Kylo decides ones again to try to calm down him, with as much patience as possible.

-The more you annoy me, the slower we go and the later we will arrive at your sweetheart! If we didn’t reach the mountains before the darkness we will need to stop for the night. There is part of a road we'll need to go by foot and I won't risk breaking your lovely neck by going there in a dark. So it’s in your best interest to be quiet. I promise I will tell you when we are near the place so you could act as a struggling captive for them.

Even more silenced noises, grunting and squirming. The man has decided to play his part for the whole duration of a trip. If he will continue to act like this at the near path in mountains, it would be wiser to tie him harder and carry him. Kylo is just too tired of this theater, he is a mercenary, not an actor to this rich guy, he is not trained to deal with this, he's never a problem like this with real captives. But maybe the man, Armitage his name is Armitage, he reminds himself, has his reasons for all this pretense, maybe for him, it's important to honor this tradition, he is his client and he pay for that. Kylo sighed, he doesn't have any solution after all:

-Okay, whatever, you may continue, if that makes you happy. You pay for this, it's your moment to shine.

Maybe if he ignores this behavior the man will grow tired and stop. He heard it works on children although it's never worked on him. Kylo tries to zone out, to concentrate on a road ahead of them. But the redhead is all he can think about. He discreetly checked him over his shoulder. So young, he must be somewhere in his early twenties, just around Kylo’s age. And he’s already decided to get married, and even go throw some complicated traditions. Kylo wonders, would somebody be so in love with him to willing to go throw something similar for him, would Kylo want it, would Kylo want it from this guy.

trange thoughts, he shouldn’t think about his prisoner in that way. He is not even a prisoner, he is a client, and that's highly unethical. But this Armitage is undeniably cute with gorgeous red hear, slender body and his pale skin is seen throw translucent nightgown. He can’t help but consider what would it be like to touch that skin, to kiss that furious mouth, to have that scratches and bites from romantic nights, not a fight, to have this body all for himself?

He imagines Armitage being delivered to HIM by some anonymous mercenary to being promptly wed surrounded by a small group of closest friends. Kylo always had a thing for secret small weddings. Then they’d be led to a bedroom, where Armitage being as stubborn as always, which was so obvious even now, wouldn’t drop an act and continue to fight. Kylo’d enjoy it, all small punches, curses, loud threats, but just to be on the safe side with his sweet husband he’d whisper “Do you want me to stop, Armie?”. "Kylo Ren, if you ruin our wedding night I’ll suffocate you with a pillow" in serious even tone and then again with an angry snarl “Stop, animal, don’t you dare touch me with your dirty hands.”. They’d play this game. He’d rip Armies clothes, while been called a brute, monster, animal. He'd pin him to the bed, roughly kissed him, touched him, opened him, teased him until his new husband would drop all pretense and start to beg Kylo for more.

Kylo lost in that fantasy, his pants grew tighter, breathing became irregular. He knows he should stop and concentrate. It was highly unprofessional and also unsatisfying, he can’t take a break now for a quick wank, he is on a mission not on vacation, and his client will be married to another man in hours.

So now he is angry at himself, at Armitage Hux, at his future husband, and at this stupid nightgown. Maybe they should take a small break, he needs to clear head, stretch his legs and take a leak.

He suddenly understands he hasn't heard anything from his prisoner for some time.

-Shit!

He turns his head only to find out that Armitage Hux the only son to Brendol Hux count of Arkanis, is unconscious.

#kylux #kylux fanfiction #kylux fic #chapter one ut i'm not sure #kylux ficlet #kylux fandom #I'm still editing it so if anybody want's to point all my grammar mistakes i'd be grateful #my fics #my kylux

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orchestrators · 6 years ago

Text

Homo Computatrum: Continued

He watched as one of his coworkers, Harry, he thought his name was, open the black cabinet. Inside was a series of small black cubes on every shelf. Each cube had a glowing LED light on the edge, each glowing a slightly different shade of green, some even seemed yellow. Each cube was magnetized to the shelf it was on, using the electromagnetic induction to stay awake. The cabinet was a safe place for them to stay warm and fed, at least that was how Declan saw it, and removing one from the shelves always caused their LED to flicker. It must be painful for them, Declan thought, to be taken out of your place of comfort and be forced to work for your survival. He was projecting now, not meaning to put his situation onto the experiences of the little cubes.

“How is it?” Declan asked.

“Specimen twenty-five is functioning normally. Showing signs of slight distress, but other than that it is working fine.” Harry said, without any inflection.

“Bring me a charging pad, that should help it calm down.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Declan slipped the small cube into the charging pad, where for a moment he noticed it’s LED turn a brief shade of orange. Yes, it’s warm there isn’t it, Declan thought. The personnel door behind him slid open, and subject seventeen was escorted into the lab by 3 soldiers. She was frail, and her skin was whiter than everyone else's, how long she must have been here he could not guess. Her hair was brown, or maybe it used to be, the blotches of grey that interrupted the woodland colors made it hard to tell. She wore the same outfit each subject wore, it was a white jumpsuit, no pockets, and holes at each point where Declan would need to work on her. Apart from everything that had seemed so typical about her, there was one thing that stood out. She was smiling. Smiling would probably be the last thing Declan would be doing in her situation, but she seemed happy. Perhaps she was mentally defective, he thought, but if she was then she wouldn't be here. What was that about, he wondered.

She sat on the operating table, and the soldiers took their place in the corner of the room. Not dropping the aim of their weapons for a moment. Declan rotated the operating table, which began to fold itself into a chair around subject seventeen's body. The magnetic clamps locked her ankles and wrists in place, while a large strap furled about her chest. Unlike previous hosts, her breathing was steady, and her eyes didn’t grow wide with panic at being locked into place. What a strange subject. Declan wheeled his chair around to face her and began his procedure.

“I am going to insert these IV tubes into your arm ports here, is that alright?” He asked.

“Ha, I’m sure I have no choice here, but thanks for asking. Go ahead.” She said with an ironic laugh.

“Uh, yes, uh. I guess you're right,” he mumbled. Declan dipped his head, what a foolish thing to ask, what was he thinking. The arm bot began inserting the IV needles for him, his neural link with the machine making it much easier for him not to have to touch subjects. If anything made him uncomfortable, it was physical contact with them, it just made things harder for him.

“Surgery audio log begin recording now,” he said loudly, “Subject seventeen is prepared and-”

“Sarah.”

“Eh, excuse me?” Declan said, looking up at subject seventeen.

“My name, it’s Sarah, not subject seventeen. You never asked but yeah there you go, what's your name by the way?”

Declan paused a moment and looked over at the other doctors at their stations, one of them lifted his hands into a shrug. Another just raised his eyebrows. Nobody seemed prepared.

“Um, my name?”

“Yes, I hardly want to know the names of the people behind the glass, what’s your name doctor?” She asked politely.

“M-Morrissey, I am doctor Morrissey. You can uh, call me Declan if you like.” He said in astonishment. Nobody had asked him his name in over a year, nobody had introduced themselves to him for even longer.

“You don't seem to be very good with people Declan. Sorry if I overstepped.” Sarah said.

“No, no, it's just that, well nobody, uh, there is never,” he paused, trying to figure out what to say, “there is never this much talking involved in the procedure. Usually, subjects have nothing to say.”

“Well, that sounds boring huh? I guess the other volunteers have little to no personality, haha.” She said, giddy for someone in her position. Volunteers? Declan thought.

“I guess so. So you do, if you don't mind me clarifying, you do understand the nature of this experiment? Don't you?” Declan asked, unsure if she was fully aware of her situation.

“Well yeah, we’re trying to merge a human with a semi-conscious AI in an attempt to make it fully aware, granting it life. The merging of human intelligence and AI being the main goal, thus creating a new species.”

“Yes, that is exactly right,” Declan said, still confused by her, “You're, your not, a prisoner are you?”

“No, I’m not, why? Are other people here prisoners?” She asked, looking around her.

In all his time underground, he had not met someone like her. Every subject he had worked on in the experiment was either on death row or someone who had become a prisoner of the foreign conflict who was secured by the military for this very experiment. She wasn’t one of those people. A volunteer? Declan thought again. Where did she even hear about it? And by what means did she volunteer to be part of it all. A message popped up in Declan's smart lenses, it was from the Colonel:

Doctor, do not waste time here today. Proceed with the operation.

Declan looked back and forth, from the message in the corner of his eye to the girl sitting in front of him. Despite her grey streaks, he noticed she was quite young, probably in her 30’s. He shook his head, trying to declutter his mind with all the questions that she had inspired in him. Declan pulled up her medical file in his smart lenses and continued with his audio log.

“Subject, uh, Sarah Kirby, prepped and ready for the procedure to begin. Anesthesiologist, Dr. Richard Berkham, preparing the Bupivacaine for local anesthetic now. Um, you will feel a slight pinch in your neck now, alright?” Declan asked, glancing back to Sarah’s eyes.

“Sounds good, ready when you are.”

“It will take around fifteen minutes for it to work, then we will begin.” He said, unsure of himself.

“Okay, this must be nerve-wracking for you guys huh? Not a single happy face in here. Like that guy over there by the cabinet? He must have like, constipation or something.” Sarah said with a giggle.

It was apparent that the cocktail of drugs being introduced to Sarah’s system were already taking effect, or maybe she was just a silly happy person normally. Declan hadn’t met a happy person in years, so it couldn’t be that. Some time had passed, and she had already made more than one person in the room laugh for the first time that Declan had known any of them. Her bright attitude seemed to be infectious, even making one of the soldiers loosen his grip on his firearm. Declan made himself busy with inserting the small cube into its casing, again imagining it to be more comfortable for it in there. Normally he would begin surgery immediately, but today he didn’t see any issue with doing to the other way around. They were going to be in this small lab for seven hours no matter what order he did things in. And so he began working, and Sarah continued to be chatty with him. Four hours had passed, and she still had so much to say.

“-and so I thought, yno O’Brien, maybe spending so much of your spare time on that Alimo model would have been better spent, I dunno, with Kaiko, Molly or Yoshi? No?”

“The wife's name was Yoshi?” Declan asked, bemused.

“No no, you're not listening at all are you? His wife's name was Kaiko, Yoshi was his kid.” Sarah said, her words sounding a little more slurred.

“Sorry, it’s just a complicated piece of tech I’m working on here, you know the interface that we have been using for the neurons in the brain stem to interact with the specimen wasn’t actually the best way to do it, this new model we came up with last month is the first of its kind. So I just have to take my time and focus on it.” Declan said, leaning in closer to the small cube.

“You must be very proud of the work you’re doing here then, to have such passion the way you do,” Sarah said in a warm tone.

“Passion?” Declan repeated, “I don’t think it’s a passion, Sarah. More so that this work is necessary, it has to be done, and not many people can do it.”

“Don’t be silly, if you didn’t love doing this you wouldn’t be so careful with the Ai in that cube. I saw you handle it the way you did, not many people treat technology like it’s alive.”

“Well, because this piece of technology is alive, in a way, I mean. It’s not fully conscious yet, so its intelligence is currently in its infancy.” He explained.

“So you mean it's just a baby?” Sarah asked.

“A, a what?” Declan paused, confused.

“A baby, you know like a child before it’s running around and playing, a tiny person?”

“Oh, yes yes, of course, a baby um, well in a way eh, you could say that,” Declan said, stumbling over his words again.

Sarah didn’t seem to be any less chatty, even though the localized anesthetic made her neck and jaw numb. Any other patient remained deadly silent throughout, which Declan always thought was best anyway. He had finished linking all the synthetic neurons to the cube and closed the seal around the implant. It was ready for insertion, and it was time for him to begin operating. He rotated the chair around so he could see Sarah’s nape and began pulling her hair out of the way to begin shaving. Each action he took he had preceded by asking if it was okay for him to do it, even though he knew that Sarah had no choice in the matter. Now and again he would glance to the mirrors on the wall, knowing that behind the glass was Sylvester, staring at him disapprovingly. It didn’t phase him as much as he thought it would, after all, this was his patient and his work. His choices to do it the way he wanted were entirely up to him.

The loud buzzing of the hair clippers always made him uncomfortable, but he knew the necessity of the device. He preferred waxing as the ideal form of hair removal, taking the hair out of its follicle entirely would naturally yield better results. But after all, this was only surgery, and he wasn’t a barber. He hesitated for a moment, noticing a small scar on the back of Sarah’s ear. A strange place to have gotten a cut or a burn, unless? He ran his left finger over the back of his ear and felt the small warm piece of ceramic behind his lobe. It was his communication’s link implant, the latest technology for those who could afford it, or those who needed it. Doctors, soldiers, politicians, scientists, all people of necessary status. Was she a billionaire? He thought. Another message came over his vision from the Colonel behind the glass:

Doctor, please continue.

It had been more than a few minutes that he had been staring at her neck and rubbing the back of his ear. He looked about the room, at every set of judgemental eyes resting on his inaction. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted he thought, so he began running the hair clippers over her neck, and she laughed.

“You have a ticklish touch don’t you Declan. Ha, I guess all doctors need that.” She laughed.

“I uh, I try to be delicate with anything, I guess it’s all part of the job. Now, I’m going to mark out the surgical incision sites, begin the implantation. Procedure log, take note, beginning incisions now.”

“Do your thing Declan, I’m hardly gonna stop you,” Sarah said.

Declan used the robot arm above his head to pick up the forceps and scalpel on the tray next to him, they were freshly removed from their sterile packaging and had a satisfying smell. Declan displayed a magnified version of Sarah’s nape on his smart lenses and began moving his hands in sync with the robotic arm, moving the sharp blade into position. But before he could make the first cut, his eyes landed on her scar again, and he longed to ask her why she had it. He rotated his view and saw the same scar mirrored on her other ear, hardly a coincidence. He delinked his right arm from the arm bot, and picked up a towel to wipe his neck, he was sweating again. Not ideal considering the room was quite temperate. He had never hesitated like this in a procedure before, so he exhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and relinked with his arm bot. It was time to get to work, so he made the first cut.

“So you mean to say that she just didn’t like otters?” Declan asked while peeling back another layer of tissue under Sarah’s skull.”

“Well kind of, it was more that she just saw them as a strange housepet, but I think they are ideal. They’re so loving, and they have thumbs for crying out loud, thumbs Declan.”

“I can think of one or two ways they can be devious with having thumbs. Kind of like raccoons, have you ever seen those videos of the little raccoons getting up to mischief?” Declan said, smiling.

“Ha, yeah, I miss those. You think with all the amazing tech you guys have in these places you could bring them back.” Sarah said in a wishful way.

“We can clone them, they just wouldn’t live very long you see,” Declan said.

“See this is where you guys down here need to get your priorities together, the world needs otters and raccoons back, not nano cybernetic humans. Ha”

“Well, remind me to get to work on gene resequencing after we’re done here,” Declan said jokingly.

“No problem, when are we actually going to be done here?” Sarah said, her voice dropping down from its usual bounce.

“We, had another hour remaining, I'll be using the skin cell regenerator to seal the wounds around your new implant, and then inserting your memory core.”

“Alright then. But, before you do, can I ask you something.”

“Belt away, what do you need to know?”

“Do you know what it's going to feel like? How it will work?” Sarah asked, “Will I still be the same person? Or will I be a new person? Will the AI in my mind be me? Or will I be the AI?”

“I, uh,” Declan stammered again, “I, I don't know. Sarah this will be the first time we try this particular way of doing it. We don’t know the exact effects of the merging of two minds yet.”

“But Declan, what about the others, how did it work out for them? Did they change at all?” Sarah asked. Declan looked about him, each person his eyes fell onto were staring at the ground, knowing the answer to the question she had asked. It was an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

“Oh,” Sarah said, “I see, you haven’t had a successful merging yet have you, that's why you’re using the new interface.” She sounded for the first time Solemn.

“Yes, you’re right,” Declan said, unwilling to say more.

“Well then, here's hoping this one works out huh?” She said, bringing back her giddiness, “Okay, but what if, and hear me out okay? What if we brought back goats? Have you ever seen a goat?”

Declan laughed, “Ha, I think I prefer otters.”

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rallis-fatalis · 6 years ago

Text

The Forms of Magic

Powerful, incredible, dangerous, extraordinary. Magic comes in many descriptions and forms, as do the mages themselves. There are as many different spells as there are practitioners. Vastly different spells don't generally work well together, and just like their magic, vastly different mages also struggle to get along. When Rallis meets a fellow mage with ideals quite different from her own, sparks threaten to quite literally fly as they attempt to work together. Hopefully they have more sense than their spells and can come to a conclusion that doesn't involve setting fire to a library.

It was rare Rallis visited Arceuus anymore. After an incident she'd rather not dwell on, she didn't feel safe in the city on her own. That being said, she loved the library and would brave a trip into the district for reading and research. Today was one of those days, and she hadn't gone alone either. Both Peg and Adam joined her and it made her feel much more comfortable, even if one of them was just there to goof around. Adam was used to Rallis dragging him along by now, she had begged him to accompany her so many times. At first, he thought perhaps she was still not well enough to be on her own from her most recent attack, but now he was starting to grow suspicious that it may be something more.

Rallis wanted to go to the library in hopes of finding information on something. Adam also had something on his mind lately he wanted to research, so at least tagging along with his friend wasn't completely unproductive. Peg just tagged along because she wanted to hang with them, but once she realized they were headed to a library of all places she knew she would grow bored quickly. While Rallis and Adam did whatever boring nonsense they were going to do, Peg found her entertainment in watching a young man talking to himself by a table against the far wall of the room as he fiddled with things in vials. He had a few books open and runes scattered over the table. As Peg continued to watch, the man jumped back with a shout and ducked under the table. A whirlwind of violet fire and sparks raced through the room shot down the connected corridor, threatening to set the books on fire.

The man whimpered under the table as he covered his head, whining about what to do over and over. Peg took action. "HEY! RALLIS! ADAM!" she hollered down the halls as she took her cloak off and pat out some of the smaller flames before they could run rampant.

Rallis came running first, quick to put the the main fire out with a blast of ice. That seemed to amaze the cowering mage, admiring the odd magic dragon from his spot on the floor. Adam came next and swore at the remaining sparks reaching for the books. "Peg, go get one of the librarians!" He pat out the rest of the sprouting flames with Rallis while Peg ran off and soon the explosive magic was no more.

Rallis held out a hand to the cowardly mage. "You can come out now. The fires are gone."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head at Rallis speaking. He forgot to even say thank you, and instead of taking her help to stand, he took her hand and looked it over. He jumped up, startling the dragon, and continued to look her over in wonder. It was making Rallis uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?" she said with drooped tail and ears.

The mage nodded and muttered to himself before coming to a conclusion. "Yes, I've got it. You are simply... a marvel. You're made of some crazy magic, aren't you? What an odd reptile. Why do your scales look like woad leaves? Hmm, maybe they are! And your ability to speak and use magic! I'd love to examine you..." He spoke rather quickly and without censor.

Rallis paled and slithered behind Adam who had now joined them. She grabbed his hand and whispered to him. "He makes me nervous."

He rubbed her arm as if to say everything was fine and stepped forward. "Are you alright, sir?" Adam asked. "That was a rather sudden explosion."

The mage waved his hand. "Pssh, I've done worse. It was just some magic gone wrong. I'm fine."

"I seem to remember the librarians having a strict rule against practicing magic in here for just this kind of reason," Adam scolded. "You could have burned everything."

"But I didn't," he said snarkily. "Thanks to you and your... incredible friend." Rallis hissed under her breath. She didn't like how he spoke of her. It wasn't just admiration, it was more like evaluation. "Besides, as long as the librarians don't find out, everything's fine! You didn't tell them, right?"

Before either of them could reply, Peg came sprinting into the room, followed by the most furious and shrill scream they had ever heard.

"LLLAAANNNCCCIIISSS!!!"

In stormed a furious Biblia, screeching harsh enough to give a wyvern a run for its money. Seeing the normally quiet and collected specter seething pure anger was startling to say the least.

"Oh boy, you did," the mage winced. "Hi Bib--"

She grabbed him by the ear and yanked him hard, like a furious mother. "LANCIS I INFORMED YOU OF WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THE NEXT TIME YOU DISOBEYED OUR RULES!" She continued to pull his ear as she shouted, forcing a tear out of his eye and quickly having him beg for mercy. "POTENTIAL TO HARM OUR GUESTS, POTENTIAL TO HARM OUR STAFF, POTENTIAL TO BURN THE BOOKS, POTENTIAL TO BURN THE BUILDING, AND MORE! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" She gave him one last harsh tug and let him go. The mage whimpered as he rubbed his ear. Biblia calmed herself and returned to her normal indoor voice. "From this point onward, you will be searched every trip you make into the library. Any runes, vials, concoctions, or otherwise possibly dangerous contents will be left with a capable mage until you leave the premises. If you have any objections, I'm sure Logosia would love to speak with you. Am I understood?"

He opened his mouth to argue but the tension in the air quickly made himself realize that would be a foolish decision. He gave the librarian a pouty 'fine.' Biblia held her hands out, waiting for him to hand everything over. The specter floated away with stacks of runes and rather unsafe looking chemical compounds.

Rallis worriedly eyed the bubbling vials the librarian was taking away. "Just what kind of mage are you?"

Adam thought he had an idea who. "She said your name was Lancis, right? You wouldn't happen to be Lancis the Wild Formula, would you?" The description he had certainly matched the mage in front of him. Long dirty blonde hair with a beard of a similar color, simple glasses to help him see, stood around 5'8, blue and white wizard robes the mystic mages of Yanille usually sported, and a demeanor as wild as the story behind his title.

Peg and Rallis looked at him questioning who that was, and the mage tilted his head back with a groan. "Yes, that's me. Could you please not call me by my name? I hate my name. Form is much better. You know, 'form' from 'formula?'" He laughed at his attempt at a witty name, but no one played along. He groaned again. "Please just call me literally anything other than my name."

"He seems like a kook," Peg said. Adam tossed her a withered look and Rallis nodded in agreement.

"He's a Legend," Adam explained. "He's a mage and alchemist who saved an entire city from being wiped off the map."

Form interrupted him. "Yeah, I stopped a plague, cured the sick, did some cool magic, you know how it goes. What a ride that was!"

Rallis grumbled under her breath. "The last Legend mage we met tried to kill us. This one makes me just as nervous."

"He's no Miles," Adam assured her. "He's just... well, 'wild' is in his title for a reason." He turned his attention back to Form. "What brings someone like you across the ocean?"

"What else? Magic of course. The magic on the continent over is stale. There's a whole new kind to be discovered here! I've been trying to test the limits of Arceuus magic, but everything I try has been blowing up in my face lately. Just like my most recent trial, as you saw..."

"Arceuus magic is used for reanimation," Rallis said. "What were you doing to get it to explode?!"

"Trying to turn the magic into a potion." He said that like it was obvious and that she was stupid for even asking. "Reanimation magic is such a pain to learn and practice and it's harder to do the farther away you are from the Dark Altar. So I'm trying to make it portable and usable by all, regardless of skill. Pretty cool, right?"

The three of them were intrigued. Such a feat didn't sound possible, but the idea was certainly an interesting one.

"So with your potion I could, what, dump the thing on a dead person and they'd come back as a zombie or something?" Peg piped up. "Even if I can't do magic?"

Form shrugged. "If it worked, then yeah, pretty much. Except this way they'd hopefully come back as their normal selves and not mindless cannibals."

"That seems rather reckless and dangerous," Adam warned. "The dead stay dead. Whenever they're forced back to life, there are always complications. Also I'm pretty sure that's considered necromancy which isn't entirely legal."

"Well I'm obviously not going to test this on people immediately. Maybe I'll try it on some flowers or a dead tree or something, see what happens. I can deal with complications when they happen." He completely ignored the legality statement. "And if for some reason it just never pans out, the idea could be pretty useful for making a healing potion. If the power that lies here is strong enough to heal the dead, I don't see why it couldn't heal the living as well."

Rallis had to admit, that seemed extremely useful. She could use healing magic herself, but it wasn't a common practice and in reality it only transferred the pain from one person to another, not actually heal a wound completely. An actual healing spell at her fingertips that anyone could use seemed incredible.

"Why can't you get the spell to work as a potion then?" she asked.

Form smiled, eager to explain his process. "I've already made enough progress to know what needs to be combined in order for this thing to work. Trust me, that took an experiment or five. Why do you think the librarians here hate me?" He scooped up his now partially burnt and stained notes from the table behind him and showed off his notes and drawings as he spoke. "The biggest issue for me is getting the most important part physically into the vial. If my theory is correct, this potion will only work if it contains magic from the Dark Altar. Not much, but some. The way to get that is through these."

He fished out a small shard of purple crystal, a sliver from the giant ones that grew all around the Altar like weeds. It was hardly bigger than a fingernail.

"These need to be ground into powder and mixed with the rest of the ingredients. Only problem is when you shatter or grind one of these crystals, they explode. That fire you saw earlier? That was from something this tiny."

Rallis frowned. "Are you sure? They're not exactly easy to break, granted, but I've broken a few with no repercussions." She snatched the shard from his hand and bit it in half. Form squealed in fear and ducked for cover, but nothing happened. He stared at the dragon in shock and awe.

"Why didn't it explode?! How did you do that?!"

"Simple. The magic grows unstable if you break one of these. So you just move the magic then put it back when you've broken it." She snapped the weakened small shard between two claws and showed them to the mage. The claws she cracked it open with glowed the faintest bit of purple. "Remove the magic, break the crystal, and..." She touched the bits again and they sucked the glow out of her nails. "Put it right back."

Form's jaw hit the floor at the realization while Peg and Adam just watched in lost confusion. Neither of them entirely understood how magic worked. Rallis handed back the fragments and snapped a spark out of her fingers. "That's amazing!" Form sputtered. "You're amazing! I can't believe... I can't do that! Please, you have to teach me how to do that!"

"Umm..." She turned to Adam. "That's up to you. If it's late, we can go back to Hosidius. And I don't... I can't be here... alone."

"I know." He pat her head. "I'm quite lost but it seems interesting. A potion that could heal any wound on the go is certainly something I'd like to learn about. Could have used that this past year, that's for sure."

Put that way, Peg was interested as well. And if she got bored during their experimentation, she was sure she could find some poor soul to entertain her, whether voluntarily or not.

"As long as I'm home to feed Tanner in time, I don't mind," Adam told her. "It's your decision."

Rallis chirped a thanks to her friends. She was still wary of mages in general, but this one seemed to have good intentions, even if he was a bit eccentric showing them. She decided she'd help. "Alright I can try to teach you how to transfer magic." Form's eyes sparkled. "But you'll need to practice on your own for a long time. You can't learn this in a day."

Form seemed to ignore her statement. "Fine, sure, now let's get started!"

The four sat down at the now burnt table and listened to Rallis with varying degrees of interest. "In order to transfer magic from one thing to another, you need to know where the magic is going to be momentarily stored. When I broke the crystal, the magic was stored in myself, more specifically my teeth and claws. I can do that because of what I am. I can store magic anywhere at all. It's different for you since you're a human. Tell me, where do you think you would have to house the crystal's magic?"

Form may have been a master of magic, but even he had no idea the answer to that. "In a piece of essence?"

Rallis shook her head. "You can't get the magic back out if you do that. You'll just end up making dense essence and then all you can do from there is make some runes."

The mage grew huffy. "Then where does it go?"

"How well do you know the four locations of magic?"

Peg hopped out of her seat at that. That sounded like the beginning of a boring lecture she wanted no part of. She ran off to bother the nearby librarian for something more interesting to read. Maybe there was some tale of romance somewhere.

"What kind of half-baked mage do you take me for?" Form scoffed. "Of course I know them! In humans, they are the eyes, the mind, and the hands, and in more powerful beings, they gain the fourth of the heart." He smirked, proud to show off his knowledge.

"Exactly," Rallis praised. "So for you, which of the three would make sense to store excess magic in?"

"The mind is always the safest bet."

"Normally, yes. But this magic isn't normal. You'll go mad if you let it persist in your thoughts. It's safer to hold in your hands. That way if something goes wrong you'll just cause another explosion and not kill yourself or go mad."

Form nodded at the valid reasoning. Adam tried to keep up with the conversation. "I had no idea magic was this complicated. No wonder I could never do it."

"You probably couldn't because you have to master magic sight first and your eyes are always too busy staring at women," Rallis snorted. Adam playfully swat her with a scowl and she giggled.

"So all I have to do is will the magic out of the crystal and into my hand and that's it? That's not hard! That's the same as pulling magic out of a rune!"

"When you pull it out of a rune, you use the spell immediately. This isn't a spell and so there's nothing to 'use.' It's not the same. It's going to be hard to just take out and hold onto, not to mention you have to put the magic back after. Go ahead and try it like you would a spell. See what happens."

Cocky, Form concentrated and tried to will the magic out of the crystal. The shard grew a flicker brighter but otherwise nothing happened. He frowned and tried again. Nothing. He grit his teeth in frustration and tried once more, trying to picture the purple glow leaving the crystal and resting at his fingertips as clear as he could. The crystal almost seemed to sigh in disappointment as it ceased glowing. Form slammed his hands on the table. "What gives?!"

An angry shush echoed down the halls at his scream.

"Told you, it's not the same," Rallis said. "It's hard to train yourself to hold onto magic instead of just immediately using it, so when it comes to something like this, it's either you pull it out and hold it or nothing happens at all."

"Magic is all about thinking! I'm thinking I want to hold it and it's not working! There's obviously a secret to this so what is it?!"

"There is no secret," Rallis stated matter-of-factly. "It's just hard and takes practice. Humans can't do it easily so it's going to be a lot harder for you than it is for me. You just need to keep trying to feel the magic in the crystal and help it move from one point to the next. You can't force it, just take it slow, think, and feel."

Form grumbled and tried again. Time sped by as the mage tried and failed to make the dark magic bend to his wishes. Rallis gave him tips and examples here and there, giving the mage every trick she could think of to make this work. Adam and Peg came and went as they pleased, checking in on the dragon from time to time. Peg found the closest thing to a romance novel she could find and sat down at their table to read it. Adam was shocked the girl was actually reading a book, but when he asked what it was about, she would hide her face and cover the page with her cloak. If she was going to act strange, he wasn't about to bother her. He continued hunting for any book on something specific he was interested in, but he had little luck. The only book he could find with the librarians' help was an old childish book of fables, which he sat down with and absentmindedly flipped through.

Hours had passed and Form had no progress to show. He was growing angry and Rallis grew frustrated at his anger. "This is impossible!" he shouted, startling Peg out of a particularly heated scene of the book. "I'm no magical talking beast, I can't do this!"

Rallis frowned. "I told you this isn't something you can do in a day. It's going to take a while."

"Well since you seem to be such a master, why don't you make my potion for me?"

"Because it's your work, not mine. And if I made one, would you have me make another? Or all of them? I would end up doing all your work for you. You're a mage, you should want to practice something new like this."

"No! I'm supposed to get everything quickly! When I wanted to learn magic, I understood it immediately! When I wanted to learn alchemy, I mastered every combination in weeks! When I had to find and create a cure for a plague that gave me my name, I did so quickly, efficiently, and masterfully!" He growled at the unassuming crystal shard on the table. "So why can't I do this?!"

"That which is worth learning does not come easily," Adam interrupted like some poetic sage. It was obviously not what Form wanted to hear.

"That's what the unskilled tell each other when they're not good enough to get it the first time. I am a prodigy!" He did a double take at what Adam was slowly flipping through and snatched the book away from him. The man gave a whiny 'hey' at the action. Form hurriedly flipped through the book and slammed his hand down on one of the pages. "This! This is what I need! If I had this, I could do any feat of magic without issue, even something like this!"

Rallis tried to peek at the page, but Form's hand covered too much. "That's a book of myths," Adam said. "I was looking through it for information on an old tale. Nothing in there is real."

Form waggled a condescending finger at him. "You're wrong to think that. I've done research on this exact book and all the tales of magic inside and I know everything there is to know. This is probably the only thing in this book that's real." He moved his hand off the page. "The imbued heart."

Rallis turned a ghostly shade of white, Adam curiously waited for more information as that was what he was investigating, and Peg's attention was finally captured.

"'Ancient beasts that walked the land, humans with their heart in hand, the fires of war grew and fanned, with magic imbued turned life to sand.' I could recite the whole tale by heart, no pun intended." He laughed at his own remark and continued. "The imbued heart lets anyone use nearly any kind of magic, whether they're a mage themselves or not. I could perform a party trick like this without issue if I had one of those! Hell, I probably wouldn't even need to resort to making a potion if I had one! I could just heal and reanimate as I desire!"

"You should never wish to own such a thing," Rallis hissed. She scowled at the meticulously painted colorful picture next to the tale Form spoke of. It held a gruesome stylized drawing of a human tearing out the heart of a monster and using it to become a mage-king no one could disobey. "You would have to murder the innocent for one. Disgusting."

"Innocent?" Form snorted. "It's a monster. You think I'd care? Monsters aren't innocent, they kill people. Another dead beast doesn't matter if it means we can--"

He didn't get to finish. Rallis was out of her seat in such a fury, the poor chair went sliding across the floor. Her claws and fangs were out as she snarled at the mage. Peg instinctively turned into a raccoon and hid under the table, and Adam was out of his chair just as quickly, ready to restrain his friend if she went mad. The mage cowered in his chair, as if just remembering who, or rather what, he was talking to.

"So it doesn't matter if the beast you kill doesn't look human! As long as it's not your kind, you're free to do whatever you want with it! Since you can't understand it, it must be an evil killing machine! People like you are the reason they're all dead!" Her fangs were growing dangerously close to the mage's face as she snarled. Form was shaking in his seat as she inched closer. "You are the murderer, not us! People like you...! Like you... are the reason I...! The reason I nearly di--!"

Suddenly, Rallis began to cough and waver. She nearly fell to her knees, holding steady against the table for support, claws digging deep into the wood. Peg squeaked worriedly from under the table and Adam reached to help her but she pushed him back.

"People like you... are sick..." she rasped between coughs. "You don't deserve magic."

Without another word, she turned tail and stomped away. Peg turned back into a human and motioned as if Adam should follow her. Form hadn't even noticed the girl's own transformative magic he was too shaken from the dragon's rage, nor had he noticed the grooves Rallis carved into the table faintly glowing blue for a moment before fading away. Adam ran after his friend, leaving Peg to handle the shaken mage.

Rallis had ran off into a dark quiet corner of the library, hidden from anything and anyone, even proper lighting. She was leaning against one of the shelves and panting like she had run laps around Kourend. She faced a wall of shelves and didn't see her friend appear behind her.

"Hey, Rallis, you okay?"

Adam worriedly reached for her shoulder. She spun out of his reach with a gasp, slamming her back against the shelves and knocking books to the floor. She looked terrified as she wished the books would swallow her whole and let her escape from her friend's sight. Her claws glowed bright blue, one hand gouging similarly glowing marks into the shelf she held onto, the other gripping her chest in pain. The same blue glow flickered in her eyes and chest, barely visible through the dragonhide top. He reached for her again, this time much more worried. "Rallis, what is going on?"

"Nothing! Just...! Go away! Give me a minute... Please..."

"Alright." He backed away. "You'll be alright?"

Rallis nodded her head and turned away, sinking to the floor to sit with the fallen books.

"I'll be right here." He turned the corner, out of her sight. She breathed a sigh of relief and focused on calming down, thankful to be alone in her quiet dark corner. Adam worriedly poked his head in every now and then, wanting to make sure she was okay. After a while, she calmed down and the glow vanished. She quietly put the fallen books back into their spots and shuffled out of the corner. She grew embarrassed upon seeing her friend again, wishing he hadn't seen her little fit. He, however, was just happy she seemed to be walking around just fine despite whatever episode that was. "Are you alright?”

She sullenly nodded her head.

"And how about your snarling at Form? That was quite the explosion, even for you. You mind telling me what that was about?"

Rallis hissed and he could see her claws dig into the carpet they stood on. "I just can't stand it!" she shouted. "He just wants magic handed to him on a silver platter, and he doesn't care where that platter comes from! Thinking it's okay to kill what he thinks is a monster just so he doesn't have to work as hard!"

Adam could see her claws start to flicker blue again until she shook her head with a groan.

"He's just like the rest of these damn Arceuus mages! Too lazy to find a real solution to their ineptitude so they resort to cutting open another living being! They don't care where their magic comes from so long as they get it!" Her screaming quieted into an angry whisper as a tear trailed down her face. Her claws dug into her chest again. "They don't care..."

Adam realized what was going on, why she blew up and was acting so strange. He already had his suspicions. "You have one, don't you? What he's looking for, an imbued heart." He could hear her breath hitch and see her grow completely still. He was right. "That's why you got so mad."

Rallis whined, wanting to keep that information hidden, but if she couldn't trust her friend, she couldn't trust anyone. "Yes, I do... And you can't tell anyone. I've had enough experiences with the mages here trying to rip me open to get it, I don't need anyone else knowing what I have. Especially not someone like him."

'The mages here?' he thought. He had figured that was the case, but to have her confirm it. "So it did happen here. I started to assume so. You've grown scared of this place even in passing conversation ever since I found you bleeding behind the bar. How come you never told me who did it?"

"I don't know... Maybe I thought if I didn't speak of it, if I stopped thinking about those four awful demons, it would all fade like a bad dream and I'd stop being scared," she admitted. "But that wasn't the case. Now it's become part of my nightmares like Galvek and everything else." She let out an angry bark of a laugh. "It seems even an entire continent over, nothing has changed. I saved Arceuus by helping them with their ice elemental problem, and how do they thank me? By trying to cut my heart out, that's how! I save the world from Galvek and I'm treated like a monster here to end mankind in his place. Galvek, Wintertodt, whatever comes next, it will always be the same. Humans really are no different no matter where you go..."

"That's not true and you know it. Don't let the faults of the few make you lose your faith in the many. There are plenty of people here and the continent over who are grateful for what you've done. I know I am, and I'm glad you're still here." He grabbed her hand and her pout bloomed into a smile. She nuzzled his arm with a purr as a thanks. "Now come on," he tugged her hand. "I'm sure they're worried about your storming off." Rallis nodded and they began their walk back. She already seemed better. Adam was glad she bounced back quickly.

A thought popped into his head as they walked. "So is this how you were able to pull that crazy stunt against Galvek?" he asked. "You froze the damn ocean and more during that fight. I've never seen anything like it!"

Rallis nodded. "Yeah. It lets me do magic as strong as I want without runes." She winced as the ghost of the painful aftermath made itself present at her remembrance. "It hurts so much though."

"Considering what you're using instead of runes, I can imagine it's a little more painful than some heartburn, and likely infinitely more dangerous. I wouldn't use that power if I were you." Even still, he couldn't help but admire at how incredible it must be to have such power. He found himself wanting to use it, but sharply reminded himself such power always had dire consequences.

"I try not to. And please, tell no one. Don't even tell Peg."

"Don't even tell Peg what?" a different voice broke into their conversation. Peg popped her head out from behind a corner as Rallis and Adam neared the table they had spent most their day at. Rallis jumped out of her skin at how stealthily Peg had snuck up on them. "So what aren't we telling me?" she pried again.

"That I'm making nothing but vegetables for your dinner," Adam joked.

Peg stuck out her tongue and pretended to puke. "Disgusting! How dare you even suggest such a thing!"

Form awkwardly walked over to the three, much more quiet and shy than before. Rallis didn't want to continue talking to the mage. She just wanted to go home where it was nice and safe. But she supposed she had to finish what she started.

"So, listen," the mage began. "I'm not good with the whole apology thing because I just don't do anything wrong, or even when I do I personally don't think it's worth apologizing over, and even then--!"

Rallis scowled at his tangential nonsense.

"Off track, I know. What I mean is... I'm sorry. Really sorry. I've been rude. I'm just not used to... not getting things perfect immediately."

"Hard work is the only way to get things done," Rallis scolded. "Instant perfection isn't a thing. Nor are shortcuts."

"I know, I get it. I'll keep practicing. Hopefully I can make this project work, and soon!"

"And with your own power. Don't go relying on a murderous myth."

Form was appalled remembering his outburst. "Ugh, god, yeah, I'm sorry about that. I guess that's like if you told me killing people would be fine if it meant you could do some fancy magic. I did not think that through and I'm sure it was insulting."

"Very."

"I'll be more careful in the future," he vowed. "I suppose I'll have to get out of your hair now. Or, horns? Either way, I'll leave you be. Thank you for the insight and help. If this ever works, you'll be the first to know!"

"I hope it does work. It sounds exciting and useful."

"Just don't use it for illegal reanimation," Adam warned. "Prison isn't fun."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Oh but I do have one last request!" Form excitedly bounced up to Rallis. "Could I possibly have some of your scales?"

"What?!"

"Well, they're just so different from standard blue dragon scales! You are a blue dragon, correct? Yours are so pale and oddly shaped, I swear they look like woad leaves! And with how interesting and magical you are, they must be too! Please, I must have some for tests!"

Rallis hissed. "No way!" She booked it down the nearest flight of stairs, fast as she could. "Bye, Form!"

The mage cursed but did not pursue. He had to clean his mess of a table up and more practicing to do before he went chasing after the dragon. Adam and Peg said goodbye as well and much more calmly scaled the stairs to the ground floor.

"They do look like woad," Peg mumbled. "What if she glues them on?"

"Rallis does not glue on woad leaves. That's ridiculous."

The two met back up with the dragon and readied to leave. Before they could exit, Adam took note of Peg trying to hide a book under her cloak. "You know, I'm glad you found something you actually enjoy reading. But are you really trying to steal from a library, Peg?" Adam chided.

Peg's face turned bright red. "N-no!"

"Then why are you hiding a book that's obviously not yours under your cloak?"

"I'm not!"

Too occupied with arguing with Adam, Peg had no time to react to Rallis swiftly yanking the book out. She ignored the girl's desperate pleas for its return and read the title. "'The Tale of Sir Richard and Princess Felidae.' Never heard of it."

"Give it here," Adam said, holding his hand out. "So this is what you were reading? The title seems adventurous." Peg had no hope of reaching it now. He flipped it open and skimmed through, not only curious about what kind of book could capture Peg's interest, but also have her trying to hide it. As he flipped through, something caught his eye and his green face began to turn red. Peg immediately knew what he just read. "Peg! I can't believe--! You shouldn't--! Peg!!!"

"Stoooooop!" she howled, embarrassed.

"What is it?" Rallis asked.

She reached for the book and both of them screamed 'no.' Adam cleared his throat and composed himself. "Why the library would have such a book on display for children to read..."

"I'm not a child! Besides, you have worse under your bed."

"PEG!"

Rallis finally understood. "Oh is it like the pictures of naked humans I found that you told me not to ask about?"

Adam's face grew brighter red and Peg smirked. "Yeah but this is even better. You have to picture it yourself since it's only words and it's so much more descriptive."

"Huh. So am I allowed to ask now why there's drawings and now books about naked humans that both of you seem to enjoy?"

"No, absolutely not!" Adam shouted. He stomped over to the nearest librarian and all but slammed the book in their hands to be put away. "We are never discussing this! Now let's go home!"

Peg followed after Adam with a cheeky grin and evil laughter, leaving a confused Rallis to trail behind.

#osrs #my writes #oc tag #runescape

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fogmongers · 7 years ago

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L A N E K A T Z . history major. dorming with Robin. skater (amateur). photographer (amateur). musician (amateur).

a restless hipster born to an aggressively patriotic cop and his stepford wife in nowheresland, montana, the only thing that ever stood between lane and his parents throwing down to hell was his older brother and unaccredited role model jack: the perfect boy, and the only mediator empathetic and patient enough to not only suffer the arguments of ethics between his parents and their unfavorite child, but also to defuse them.

jack had the philosophical savvy to understand and relate to lane, but at the end of the day, didn’t have the passion or endurance to live the peace-loving ideology they discussed. loyal to a fault and desperate to make his insecurely lower-class parents proud in wake of lane growing up to be a smelly hippie who brought shame to the family in their rural town, jack enlisted in the army at 18, very much against Lane’s pleas advice, leaving his little brother feeling tremendously betrayed.

already showing early signs of manic depression in his teens, the feelings of angst and anxiety caused by and for jack led to lane losing his self-preservation instinct. his high school years would see him acting on his impulses of hyper-sexuality and letting his mood swings and irritability turn him into a toxic friend. he had days where he was endearingly quiet and earnest, but switched to moods of reckless thrill-seeking decadence, or venomous, moody irritability with no warning or signal of how he would feel at any particular moment. became a serial dater who got away with breaking hearts because he had the veneer of a sweet artist--- wrote a few songs and poems for girls, always taking candid photographs of happy times and posting them with lovely captions, knows how to give a good, personal compliment when he wants to--- but he wound up being kind of isolated by the end of his senior year after girls started talking to each other about his behavioral patterns and nowadays he doesn’t have many friends to visit back in montana.

his home life was an even larger abyss, especially around the times his brother would come home. with each subsequent visit, jack became more visibly hollow. everyone could tell that he lost the shine in his smile, and it was clear that his mind was somewhere else during conversations, even before you told him that your girlfriend left you for your best friend and he smiled and said “I’m so happy for you.”

when efforts to talk to jack again became increasingly futile and frustrating, no one in the family was able to cope constructively. while his parents promptly Bottled That Shit Right Up and, to this day, actively deny any of jack’s visible trauma, lane has reacted with a lot of emotions and crying and lashing out and, to this day, is not finished “grieving.” and it leads to a lot of tension between him and his parents. their relationship for most of hi high school life consisted only of radio silence and arguments– especially between lane and his dad, who wanted him to Man Up, stop “reaching for shit to get upset about” and “making up problems” and thought it was time for him to get his act together and stop partying so much, get more controlled like his brother, talk back less like his brother, put down the camera and guitar and join a sports team--- start thinking about his future.

it all built up to the peak of one typical argument about how shallow they are vs. how bratty he is, and his father declared that the family has been expecting lane to enlist at the end of high school to learn respect and discipline if he wants to keep his room in their house, and after lane lashed out, his dad raised his hand to hit him.

lane flinched away and the heat of the moment was cut soon enough for him to lower his arm, but the general threat of physical abuse is still there every time lane sees his dad, and the one time he tried to bring it up his dad denied that it ever happened--- basically tries to gaslight him into thinking he’s just overreacting and blowing things out of proportion and all in all the relationship has lost all hope. within a month after the incident, he stopped talking to his dad entirely.

his mom was, fortunately, there to witness the situation, and is still outwardly in denial about the whole ordeal, but she was sympathetic enough to keep them separated for the rest of lane’s childhood and support her son when preferred to go to college than boot camp. she helped him fill out his applications and apply for financial aid knowing, deep down, that she probably wouldn’t see him again after he pulled out of the driveway and headed to rainier the next year.

persona:

your standard artsy, pretentious white boy. fake-deep entry-level philosopher, hiding any vulnerability behind a fort of irony and alleged self-awareness. the guy “sarcastically” playing early 2000′s indie-pop hits on acoustic guitar in the quad because he won’t admit that he earnestly likes the sincerity of songs. teasing/negging girls who instagram pictures of their food and judging people for scrolling through their phones in public when they should be paying attention to him. would have dread locks if he went to college just ten years ago. wears his ziggy stardust or velvet underground tee shirts on the anniversaries of bowie & lou reed's deaths and mourns artists like them belligerently publically. reads sartre & marx in crowded spaces with the book cover as visible as possible.

a walking contradiction. uncontrollable mood swings. he flips between extreme arrogance and worrysome levels of self-deprecation at the strum of a chord. an alluring and unpredictable mine field of a person, flipping the switch between boughts of wrath and guilt, ecstatic passion and dreadful apathy, tyranny and self-harm. a rebellious party boy, very popular for a loner, with boyish charm and intrigue. but he’s much more self-aware than he used to be--- after realizing that he had no friends’ houses to stay at in his senior year of high school because he pushed everyone away, he tries much harder to be a better friend to people, both out of the need for self-preservation since he can’t spend summer breaks or holidays in montana anymore, and also out of a genuine empathy and understanding of other people’s behavior and feelings that he had to learn the hard way.

grew up extremely passionate about studying history; refuses to admit that it’s not really his thing anymore. constantly triggered by his own textbooks. he would really do better in some philosophy or literature or psychology (or being confident enough in his own potential to major in photography and grow up to be the war photographer he was born to be), but he’s developed a masochistic streak in recent years.

attached at the guts to robin dundee. they have a complicated friendship with, but robin’s overpowering energy kind of forces lane to default to being calmer to balance him out. the boys are always saying they’re going to start a band together but can never decide what kind since they’re never interested in the same extremely specific and obscure sub-genre at the same time (one week robin will say they should be a dark vaudevillian cabaret goth band while lane insists that they should play ethereal folk and by the time one of them gets into the other’s taste, the latter has already moved on to psychobilly) and they always push away each other’s recruits to the band since all of lane’s friends find robin too psychotic and anyone robin attracts finds lane too pissy and sappy.

wanted connections:

short-lived relationships or flings that ended ambiguously or badly because he’s kind of hard to handle for long periods of time. demure or ditzy/non-threatening friends who let him feel like the mischievous one for once (he tends to flirt with these kinds of people). unrequited crushes (on either side, but he should also have a huge crush on annona). dealers, or friends/clients of his dealer who he smokes with. a party squad. a white boy skater/weed/videogame squad (COUGH nate/sid/robin/lane what COUGH). someone who’s intrigued by his undiagnosed psyche and just wants to get close to him to figure him out - or - who finds him boring because they already have him figured out. people who are begrudgingly friends with him because he workshops and photographs their art for their portfolios (maybe someone whose name sounds like mattah sarhews). a friend of that friend whom he doesn’t realize is gay and keeps flirting with because he thinks she’s playing hard to get and just has a deadpan sarcastic sense of humor. someone whose family he spends breaks with (i’m assuming he usually winds up spending them with his fling at the time but a friend who he can consistently stay with would be good too), or someone who also on campus when school’s out; bonus points if they only talk when they’re having heart-to-hearts on the empty grounds. activists who recognize his energy and want to mobilize him (it’s tk i’m talking about tk @ nina bring tk to rainier please). good influence friends who are understanding of his behavior. someone who’s a little too forgiving of him and winds up getting stepped on because they assure him he’s safe to be emotional around them. bad influence friends who push him to act more like robin. enemies who do not have any patience for him or his antics, or anyone who actively tells people about what a bastard he is. maybe someone from his old school who he’s burned?

#╰ ☾ 🇹🇭🇪 🇵🇪🇳🇩🇺🇱🇺🇲. ⛧ ━━━ lane katz. ╮

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pengiesama · 7 years ago

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Dies Caniculares (Fic, Mikleo/Sorey, Fantasy/God AU) (Prologue)

Title: Dies Caniculares (Prologue) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey

Summary: Mikleo dreams of travelling the world, having exciting adventures like his uncle. Unfortunately, he lives a pretty boring life in the tiny mountain village of Camlann. If he's not working at his family's temple, he's having to deal with his mother's constant attempts to match-make him to every eligible girl in town.

He also happens to be best friends with a god. That god happens to be a dog, who happens to be able to turn into a frustratingly handsome young man. Complications, as they do, inevitably crop up.

(CONTENT WARNING: shapeshifting, eventual mpreg.)

Link: AO3

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Mikleo and his uncle stumbled through the trees and underbrush. The rain was coming down in sheets; they could barely see more than an arm’s length in front of them, and the mud beneath their feet seemed determined to suck their hiking boots right off of them. The village of Camlann was in a mountainous region, which made rainstorms like these all the more dangerous – if they didn’t find proper shelter soon, they would be one mudslide away from becoming part of the mountain permanently.

Mikleo stumbled, reached for a tree branch to steady himself, and very nearly wiped out when that same tree branch snapped under his grip. His uncle’s arm was there to steady him, tight and secure around his midsection.

“Keep going!” he heard his uncle’s voice shout over the roar of the storm around them. “The ruins are up ahead!”

Mikleo tried to calm his racing heart. His Uncle Michael was a seasoned adventurer. His Uncle Michael would get them both home safe.

The Mabinogio Ruins were an ancient, sprawling temple that sat just outside Camlann – Mikleo and Michael had set off hiking from the village that morning with the intention of camping at the temple for the evening, and examining the state of its frescos and stonework. They would take note of what needed to be tended to, manage said tending with the tools in their packs, and then head back to the village the next day. It was something they did every time Michael found himself wandering back to town in the midst of his travels, and was an activity Mikleo cherished.

When they left the village, there was no sign of a storm – it was sun and clear skies for miles. This torrential downpour came from nowhere, and caught them completely off-guard. Too far already from Camlann to try heading back, they would simply have to push toward the Mabinogio Ruins with all they had, then find a room that was in good enough shape to wait things out.

Finally, they caught sight of the ancient steps that led up to the temple entrance. Rainwater rushed down the steps like a tumbling waterfall – they would be quickly washed away if they tried to climb. And so, they continued to trudge through the underbrush, step by stumbling, soaking, mud-sucking step, until they reached the entrance. They collapsed to the (marginally) dry stone floor once inside, and paused a moment to catch their breath; watching the downpour outside in wonder. It was such a massive, raging storm – how did they not manage to see it coming on the horizon before they set out?

“…we’ll need to build a fire,” Michael finally said. “Go try and find some dry kindling. Don’t wander too far.”

Mikleo nodded absently. “Yeah...yeah.”

Mikleo knew these ruins like the back of his hand. Although he didn’t often get the chance to come out in person – being nine years old with an worrisome and overprotective mother limited one’s options when striking out on a journey to an ancient, decaying temple in the mountains – he poured over maps and books on the temple regularly, and found himself wandering its halls and rooms in his dreams. It held a special place in his heart as a place of adventure, a place that symbolized his dreams to get out of his tiny village and explore the world – just like Uncle Michael.

That being said, being able to navigate the ruins blindfolded didn’t necessarily give Mikleo a leg up on finding kindling that wasn’t soaked through. Even in areas of the ruins that had intact walls and ceilings, protected from the rainstorm, the humidity was chokingly thick. Mikleo bet that if he were to reach out and take a handful of air, he could wring it out like his clothing.

Mikleo wandered into one of the temple’s inner rooms; a large, spacious chamber with a towering statue of an ancient god at its head. He knew this temple well, he knew all of its rooms, all of its statues and carvings, all of the spots where the floors were weak and shouldn’t be stepped on. So, the new addition to this room stood out: a wild dog, curled at the base of the statue, and staring straight at Mikleo.

Mikleo was paralyzed in place, a scream for his uncle caught in his throat. He was terrified of dogs, and had been for all his life. But this was so much worse. He could at least expect a tame dog, a pet dog, to have some sort of training – something that would hold them back from snarling and barking and tearing him to pieces. A wild dog was a different story. Mikleo wondered if he was fast enough to get away and back to his uncle, before the dog could catch up to him. He wondered if playing dead would work.

The moment stretched on, and finally, the dog averted its gaze. It lowered its muzzle to rest on its front paws, sighing heavily. It didn’t seem interested in making a meal of Mikleo – it didn’t even really seem interested in moving from its spot. Mikleo allowed himself to relax, a bit, and take stock of the situation. The dog was quite unlike any sort of creature he’d seen before. Instead of a wiry coat of fur, it seemed to have…feathers, feathers that were as bright and glimmering as gold. The dog was soaked through with rainwater, and as he looked closer, it was clearly shivering. Perhaps even injured. Perhaps it had retreated here, to this abandoned place, to succumb to its wounds and die a lonely death.

Every survival instinct he possessed screamed at him to run back to the temple entrance and fling himself down those waterfall temple steps to escape the beast’s jaws. But Mikleo ached with sympathy for the poor, lonely creature, and his soft heart overrode his common sense.

“Hey. Did you come in here because of the storm, too?”

The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of Mikleo’s voice, and its tail thumped against the stone floor once, twice. Mikleo swallowed down his fear and crept a bit closer.

“You…are you hurt? Are you going to bite me if I come in here?”

The dog tilted its head, one ear flopping to the other side with the motion, and thumped its tail once. Its pink tongue poked out of its muzzle just enough to be visible. Mikleo sighed.

“You don’t understand me. Just…don’t bark at me, okay?”

The dog thumped its tail again, as if in agreement, and curled a bit closer on itself before continuing to shiver. Mikleo didn’t really know what to look for in a wounded animal, much less how to help one…Mikleo suddenly felt the weight of the soaking wet coat on his shoulders, and slowly slid it off. He got as close to the dog as he dared, and gently threw the coat near it. The coat landed on the stone floor right next to the dog with a muffled, soaked flop.

“Here.”

The dog blinked, and looked from the coat to Mikleo, as if in disbelief. Mikleo rubbed at his upper arms, feeling a little embarrassed somehow.

“I’m sorry it’s wet, but…well. You obviously know what the weather’s like. It should still warm you up.”

Now that he was closer, he could see the dog’s eyes more clearly – green, green as a forest after a rainstorm, green as emeralds. They were beautiful, just like that glimmering golden coat of feathers. Mikleo felt a strange sense of intelligence behind them.

The dog whined, and nosed the coat back in Mikleo’s direction, even as it still shivered in every limb.

“It’s fine, my uncle is building a fire, and I have more coats at home…please, you can have it. I hope it makes you feel better.”

Even though he was afraid of dogs, if he could bring comfort to a hurt and cold animal in what could be its final hours on earth, Mikleo would do it without question.

A shiver of his own tore through Mikleo, and he was reminded of the reason why he came down here. He looked around the room, trying to spot something dry enough to feed the fire. The dog, now curled around his coat, watched him curiously as he wandered around the room. Mikleo felt compelled to make conversation – it seemed rude otherwise. He explained to the dog how they’d found themselves here, explained they were from the village of Camlann. Talked about his home at the village temple, talked about his family, who were traditionally the caretakers of said temple…

“…and my mother will probably never let me leave the village gates again, if she found out about all this,” Mikleo added, ruefully.

The dog gave a sympathetic whine. Its ears were perked, and its tail hadn’t stopped wagging since Mikleo had given it his coat. It was an excellent listener – Mikleo felt like it understood him, somehow, and that it wasn’t judging him.

“…you’re sitting under the statue of Zenrus, one of the heavenly lords of lightning,” Mikleo continued to explain. The dog’s ears perked further at the sound of that god’s name, and its tail wagged harder. “This temple used to be one of his centers of worship, centuries ago. But he disappeared one day, and Maotelus took over watching the area…Maotelus is the god enshrined in our temple in Camlann. No one really knows where Zenrus went, but my uncle says that even gods deserve their peaceful retirement years.”

Mikleo had found some dry vines behind a crumbling pillar, and he gathered them in his arms as he continued to talk aloud.

“We still take care of this temple, though – you can’t just leave something with this much significance to just rot away in the forest, even if most people have forgotten about it. Well, more specifically, my uncle and I take care of it, whenever he’s in the village. He travels so much, and only comes back once or twice a year…someday, I’ll set out with him to see the world. I know I will.”

The dog was gazing at him with something that almost resembled affection. Mikleo waddled closer, his arms full of vines and twigs. He looked over the dog, and felt himself relax a little bit. The dog had stopped shivering, and was stretched out more comfortably – Mikleo could now see that the dog didn’t have any visible wounds or broken limbs, and its bright, alert expression further assured Mikleo that it wasn’t on death’s door as he originally assumed. It was still soaked though – not that Mikleo really had a leg to stand on there, either. Mikleo thought they looked like quite a pair: a soaked feathered dog, and a soaked boy whose shoes were surely filled with more mud than he could comfortably imagine.

“Mikleo! Are you alright down there?”

Mikleo jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice, and turned to give his farewell to the dog (and his coat).

“I have to go back – my uncle is probably worried. Stay inside until the rain stops, okay?”

The dog whined a little, but seemed to acknowledge the advice. It set his head down on its paws, and watched Mikleo leave; its tail not stopping once.

Mikleo headed back to the entrance with the kindling, and gave it to Michael for the sputtering fire. Michael looked him over with a confused expression.

“What happened to your coat?” Michael asked.

“Um,” Mikleo replied.

Michael dropped the subject, but made sure to add:

“Your mother’s going to kill me, you know.”

The storm outside seemed to be calming down, and by the time they were done drying off in front of the fire and doing some basic temple maintenance – pulling out weeds from cracks in the stone, moving artifacts from rooms that had started to crumble – it had broken entirely. Michael poked his head out, squinted at the sky, and sighed.

“I think it’s passed…we should probably head back before your mother sets out to track us down.”

Mikleo was already piling dirt on the fire to put it out, but looked over at Michael, concerned.

“What about taking care of the temple?”

“Today is no day for heavy maintenance,” Michael explained. “I’ll come back tomorrow when it’s dry to patch up the ceilings and reinforce the walls.”

Mikleo perked up. “Tomorrow? We can come back tomor--”

“I will come back tomorrow,” Michael clarified. “Sorry. You know I’d take you again if I could.”

Mikleo sulked. He knew his mother hated that her brother travelled so much – straying so far from home, for so long, with so little contact. She seemed to despair at how much Mikleo admired him for his wanderlust, and it was a small miracle that she allowed these hikes whenever Michael found himself back in town. She was sure to be in full fussing mode when they returned to town after this storm, and surely wouldn’t allow Mikleo out of her sight for a month or more. And there was still the matter of explaining the coat, on top of all that.

“Come on, pack up and let’s get going.”

Mikleo paused, and glanced down the darkened halls of the temple.

“…can you let me check on something first?” he asked.

Michael allowed it, and Mikleo set off into the halls. He found his way back to the inner chamber from before, and peeked in.

The dog was asleep – breathing steadily, and still curled around his coat. Its leg twitched in its sleep.

Mikleo smiled, and quietly made his way back to his uncle.

The next few days proceeded as normal. Mikleo’s mother, Muse, scolded them both, fretted over Mikleo, scolded them both over Mikleo’s lost coat and muddy shoes. Michael left as expected after a day or so, itching to start a new adventure; leaving Muse to fret further over his safety, and leaving Mikleo bereft once more – alone with his collection of books at the temple, only able to dream about the world outside the village. And so would the days go, forever, unchanging.

…or so Mikleo thought. Because the morning after his uncle left, the dog from the temple showed up in front of his house.

It was definitely the same dog – that coat of golden feathers and those green eyes were unmistakable. Moreover, it still had Mikleo’s coat; carefully carried in its jaws, as if it was being conscientious enough to not tear it. It seemed to be patiently waiting for something…or someone. Mikleo watched the dog from his bedroom window. Who could it be waiting for, other than him?

Mikleo steeled his courage, and walked out to meet the creature waiting at the temple gates.

The dog brightened up as he approached – its tail wagged in full force, and that golden coat seemed to almost glow. Its coat was even more beautiful now that it was dry, and Mikleo could see the shimmer in it, and the fluffy, silver-white down around its neck and ears. It was truly captivating to look at, and Mikleo was able to push down the fear still in his heart at the sight of it.

“…you found me?” Mikleo asked quietly. “I guess you might’ve followed the scent on that coat.”

The dog seemed to remember that it was carrying the coat at Mikleo’s comment, and dropped it to the ground, nosing it towards Mikleo. Mikleo stared, trying to make sense of all this. After a moment, the dog backed up, giving Mikleo his space, seemingly mindful of his lingering fears.

Mikleo picked up the coat – it was covered in feathers and leaves, and smelled like wet dog, but there were no tears or rips anywhere. It was clear that it had been well taken care of.

“…thank you,” Mikleo quietly said.

The dog’s tongue lolled out of its mouth, and its tail thumped once before it rose to its feet.

“Wait,” Mikleo said. “Don’t go. You must be hungry, or thirsty…”

At those words, the dog couldn’t help the needy look that crossed its face – nor the little bit of drool around its mouth. Mikleo smiled despite himself, and asked the dog to wait for him while he went inside.

While Mikleo’s mother did not share his fear of dogs, she was always concerned for his safety – after listening to Mikleo’s plea to feed and water their visitor, after listening to his rambling tale about finding the dog at the temple, and seeing Mikleo’s coat returned in one (albeit filthy) piece, Muse went out with supplies with a thoughtful look on her face. Mikleo watched from the window as she tended to the dog – even managing to pet the creature; the dog leaning into her palm with a blissful look on its face. Mikleo felt a strange little twinge of jealousy.

When Muse came back inside, she gathered some old blankets, and made to return to the front gate.

“Mom?” Mikleo questioned. He couldn’t help the curiosity, or the hope. “Are we letting it stay?”

“Whether this creature is a herald of the ancient Lord Zenrus, or simply a wandering stray, night is coming, and we must offer our hospitality,” Muse explained.

And so they did, as the dog continued to remain around the temple for the next few days. Mikleo watched from the window every time his mother went out to offer food and water to their could-be-divine guest, and felt his courage and his longing grow – until finally, one day, he managed to voice what he wanted to do.

“Can I…take out the food today?”

Muse rose an eyebrow at him – she was well aware of his fear of dogs, so it was quite a thing to hear. But seeing the determination in Mikleo’s eyes, she relented, and soon, Mikleo was carefully approaching the beast waiting at the gates with their offering. The beast saw him, and gave an excited little whine; its tail going at full-speed.

“…here,” Mikleo said, finally, setting the food and water down. The dog managed to wait until Mikleo had stepped back before digging in to the meat. “You know, my mother thinks you’re a herald of Lord Zenrus. I don’t think a heavenly herald would drool so much when they eat.”

The dog looked up at him, and blinked. “Herald? Oh, no. I’m no herald. Zenrus is my grandfather, though, so I guess it’s not too far off…”

Mikleo thought he deserved a great deal of credit for not screaming at the sound of the dog’s voice. At the sound of the dog speaking. Perhaps a lifetime of serving in the village temple had prepared him for this moment, though Mikleo still couldn’t control the truly baffled expression on his face. The dog seemed to realize what had just happened – that its cover as a completely ordinary hyper-intelligent golden feathered dog was blown. It lowered its ears, abashed, and licked its chops to clean up its drool before it spoke again.

“I—I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to speak until we were alone,” it said. Or rather, he said. The voice coming from the dog was unmistakably that of a young man. “My name is Sorey, I’m a travelling thunder god. I…I just had to thank you for the other day in Gramps’ old temple. For your coat, and the company.”

“…you’re welcome,” Mikleo said, unable to manage anything else. Except: “I’m Mikleo.”

And such was the beginning of their strange friendship. Mikleo took up the responsibility of bringing offerings to their could-be-and-actually-definitely-is-divine guest, and he and Sorey began to speak more and more. Sorey was so well-travelled – even moreso than Mikleo’s uncle – and was eager to talk with Mikleo about the places he’d seen, over the many years he’d lived. (Though he still seemed to be considered quite young, by godly standards.) Mikleo began to look forward to their chats every morning and night more than anything – it was a lonely life in the village, with so few other children his age, and even fewer with his interest in history and travel. And it seemed that Sorey knew some of that loneliness, at least a little bit.

“…I wish you could stay,” Mikleo said quietly one night, after a few weeks of their acquaintance. “It’s so lonely here. And boring. You can travel anywhere you want, and I’m stuck here, just…”

Sorey lifted his head from Mikleo’s lap, and shifted to his feet. “…close your eyes, okay?”

Mikleo frowned. “…you’re not going to try and lick my face again, are you?”

“Hey! You had food on your face that day and I was just – listen, just close your eyes. I promise it’s nothing weird.”

Mikleo shook his head and did as he was asked. There was a whisper of wind, and the scent of a distant rainstorm – and then, a hand, a human hand, holding his own. Mikleo’s eyes flew open, and he stared at the handsome young man kneeling in front of him. Mikleo felt his cheeks burn. His long blond hair was tied into a high and messy ponytail, and it cascaded down his back; feathered earrings peeked out of the fall of it. His white and gold clothes were finely-made, and were as elegant as anything Mikleo had seen in the temple’s holy etchings. Those same sparkling green eyes that he remembered searched his own, and then, the smile that crossed the young man’s face was unmistakable – Mikleo could almost see that phantom tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“If you need me to stay, Mikleo, I’ll stay. I’ve got nowhere to be, and…” Sorey trailed off, then scratched at his ear, a little embarrassed. His feather earrings jingled with the motion. “I mean, as long as your mom doesn’t mind me hanging around. I feel kinda bad for imposing so long…”

Sorey was lonely, too, just like him. They were alike in so many ways.

Mikleo pled his case to his mother the next day – not including certain details (like “the dog can talk” or “the dog is a god” or “the dog is a man and I can’t get his smile out of my head”), but begging her to let the dog stay permanently. Muse’s superstitious nature – or perhaps her spiritual intuition, in this case – and the dog’s friendly charm won out in the end, and she agreed to the arrangement.

Sorey and Mikleo were two peas in a pod, to be certain, and became fast, inseparable friends. Sorey was the north star in Mikleo’s life – unchanging, always there, a rock to lean on even as Mikleo grew and his life got more…complicated. The years seemed to fly by, and soon, Mikleo found himself twenty-four years old and gazing at Sorey’s face as he napped next to him. He didn’t look a day older than he did that day at the temple – Mikleo had gone from looking the part of little brother, to looking the part of the older brother. (Though he’d always had the maturity of the older brother. Maturity was not something that came easily to Sorey.) Soon, no doubt, he’d start looking like Sorey’s father. The thought didn’t bother Mikleo much – it came with the implication of many more long years with Sorey, which was all he wanted.

…Maybe not all he wanted, Mikleo amended, rolling onto his back. They were relaxing in their secret place in the forest; a waterfall clearing, with a clear pond and soft grass, and plenty of tree cover to keep the sun out of their eyes. It was a wonderful spot to hide from his duties at the temple, and his…other duties. He still dreamed of travel, of seeing the world. And he dreamed of getting a break from his mother’s constant matchmaking, which this secret place helped with.

Sorey whined softly in his sleep, and scooted closer to Mikleo, his messy hair tickling Mikleo’s jaw. Mikleo smiled and stroked his head. He had appointments this afternoon, temple duties to tend to. But he could spare some more time for Sorey to get his rest.

He let his eyes drift closed, and dozed to the sounds of the forest around him.

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