#sitting her silent and stone faced meanwhile my entire head is

[youngpettyqueen]

I dont music post a lot on here but Inertia by AJR has me feeling deeply unwell

[quinntamsin]

Denna paced on the battlements of the Castle, her long ebony hair whipped up by the incoming winter storm. Facing out into the frozen sound before her she was startled to feel Qwynn's quiet presence behind her as a pair of arms enveloped her in their warmth.

"War is brewing in the south again," she said, as the Lady of the House nuzzled her neck. "The Southrons always call for war, the North Remembers, and like Dorne we'll stay out of it unless the Stark Calls my Banner."

House of the Dragon S1E7 "Driftmark", Laena of Hosue Velaryon has passed, burned to death at her command by Vhagar. What will Baela and her sister do? Daemon must deal with the oncoming drama that will strike the House of the Dragon.

We are reminded as the last Prince of the Blood Royale was born, Joffrey, and how Lord Strongs death at his brother's hand. ANd how Laena died in fire. Thus the game of Thrones takes more lives. WE see the people of Driftmark  gathering as a priest speaks in Old Velaryon. The daughter of Driftmark has been given to the waves. Wait, it Corlys' Velaryon who is carrying out the funeral. He speaks a line about how the blood must never run thing. They start to drag the rock sarcophagus against the stone and prepare for it to be given to the sea.Makes me wonder how many Velaryon's are down there since it appears to be quite a few. Meanwhile, five dragons fly over Driftmark before we see the gathering after the service. Rha sees her uncle and notices how the entire party seems to be split down the middle. Jace heads over at his mother's word to speak to his cousins. THe boy knows that HRwin was his father. WE can sense as the king sits his mourning court, how the old Valyrian blood is slowly splitting among itself. Haelena seems to be having another dream as Larys sits like a pug waiting for attention. Baela and Rhaena quietly share a hand of grieving with Jace as Corlys sees how his grandson reacts to the comment of his inheritance. Rhaenys meets everyone as she hugs the twins and Jace sits aside. It's strange as Aemond comes over to stand before his cousin. A sea of Valyrians and yet they still act the fool as Aegon is already deep in his cups. THe tension here is disquiet a mixture of mourning and silent tension of the disregarded death of Lyonel and Harwin strong. Laeno sits in the water crying as Colrys gets the lover of Laenor to go get his liege. Oh the complexity of beards in a world where the King just wants the fools to actually care about each other. The Iron Throne looms over this death and the others of recent tidings. Viserys tries to connect with his brother, the two brothers remain quiet as Rhae watches. Daemon denies the return and thus continues the cut between the King and his brother. This is quite a saddening scene as Otto tries to say something nice and Daemon says something mean since the man deserves. Fucking fool started this nonsense. In the night as a moon slowly awaits over Driftmark Otto grabs a drunken fool Aegon and Laenor retreats for the night. Amond sits quietly all by his lonesome and hears the call of Vhagar above. The massive Dragon's silhouette dances across the clouds. Inside Driftmark Corlys awaits with her Husband as she talks about how her children are mourning. "Mayhaps the gods have scorned us for our insatiable pride." Corlsy counters whi how she truly is the "Queen Who Never Was" as she asks to set aside and it is his ambition which ignites further problems. Yes, Lord Corlys is one of the early instigators of the Dance as it is his and Otto's ambition set the fires for the damnation of House Targaryen. The silent antagonism toward the Strong and Targ children. This is where Crolys shows a vivid spark of genius "History does not remember blood, it remembers names." We switch to Rhae and Daemon walking upon the sands of Driftmark. It is revealed that Laenor is likely sterile. Both had no joy and they could not conceive a child. I like how people in this series are spent on scorning Rhaenyra when all of this is their creation and how they set her up. The girl just wants acceptance or her own ego, and this lack of it and the way she was driven away by Otto is what breeds her contempt for a long time. The two finally confront each other about how they could have continued their incest hookup. She calls her life a Droll tragedy as he says he loved Laena in her own way. As the disquiet of the death of Laena looms hard on the two they clumsily move to kiss and we can see that Daemon tries to give her a second to pull away. And finally, the girl gives into her lust as we get what she's wanted for a while. Another toast sex scene with thots of thighigh stockings and even more. So for those of you who aren't aware, no GRRM books don't feature nearly as much detail in sex. There are a few that happen, but the TV Series is far more emphatic on stuff. Yes stuff is violent, but the books are more about discussions of things and are more descriptive. Onto Vhagar getting "stolen" by Aemond. THe thing here is whoever the Dragon accepts is their rider. Aemond is the fool who decides to take on the Dragon and gets him killed later on. More actions that will divide the slowly dangerous corpse that is the House of the Dragon. Vhagar climbs into the sky with Aemond barely keeping a handle on him. He does well and as a child he wouldn't be aware of any etiquette when it came to grieving and Dragons. He would just make a decision. The twins awaken Jace as we see the two incesticles finishing up their scene. And the boy lands the fucking dragon over the set up pavilion area where the Mourning was taking. Jace the kids proceed to beat the shit and he decides to threaten the kids and insults. We see ALicent being a total fucking Karen instead of properly punishing her kids as Aemond is questioned by the King. All Aegon does after he's ratted on is says everyone's.  And the King demands peace. Queen Karen demands an eye from and she steps forward. Yup, this girl will just not let it fucking go. The King threaten's tongues when I could have started disinheriting people and exiling him. ANd the Queen slashes the Princess of Dragonstone, yeah in this instance I would have unmade her as Queen. The firstblood of the Dance is when Alicent strikes, not Jace. And yes, the kid lost an eye, but he got the oldest fucking Dragon in all of Westeros. WE see Daemon and Rhae standing before Criston and ALicent. THe two pairs that will actually form the basis of all Black and Greens. Otto is back. I get that she is mad, but honestly really, if she had spent less time formenting all this hate she could have taken the Iron Throne without blood. Otto being the shitty enabler he is and seems to be intent and continues to blame Rhae for her own actions. Seriously people, your own actions are your own. Yes, some are influenced by others, but when you commit a violent action because you resent someone. Its on you to move forward. If they are a toxic person this is good, if they are an ebuser or worse even better. But right now, Vhagar wa the one who provoked the fight, and it was their shitty raising of the kids which brought this. The Kids did make their actions but let us remember, these are FUCKING CHILDREN. Aemond picks up shit from his family, and it is the actions of parents and friends that make kids create their bloody morale compass. So yes, I am laying blame on both kids. Yes, the kids had harsh lives, but they have shitty examples like SIr Cristion, Daemon (who is happy to beat the shit out of people) to influence them. And we learn that impart it was Laenor's own strong reaction to hetero sex which likely which became the boundary. Laenor decides that he is here, and I think in a way that will invigorate Rhae's own detachment. Harwin is gone to be that support and so she's languishing in her grieving. It doesn't help that Alicent is basically been compressed by the men in her life to become the Karen she is now. Note I lay a lot of the enabling on Criston because he's a piece of shit incel anyway. Larys doesn't help either. The queen gives into her darker nature rather than controlling determinate for pure rage. As they leave Driftmark a lone vessel heads to Kingslanding as the Green Dragons head back to Kingslanding. The remaining Black aligned Dragons remain at Driftmark where it will become a stronghold of the Black Council. Rhae watches them all leave beside Daemon as she speaks to him. Larys is there to be a passive shit and instead of telling him to shut the fuck up. She listens to him as she realizes he's willing to do dark shit. ANd luckily she's back in her fucking rationality and denies him. Sticking him in her back pocket isn't a bad idea, but she should have kept a tigther lease on him. And not listened to his whisper. "I cannot face the Green's alone." She speaks to him about how they want to reunite the Dragonblood. Yup, they are already calling the Hightower Targs the greens. "We will always will burn together." And she is aware that Laenor will have to die if Daemon is to take her side. Can we all agree that killing off BIPOC characters in the current fashion which are kind of fucked up. There is a lot here we could have treated better. As the two duel we see the foolishness that the writers are willing to toss aware Laenor and Laena. Daemon is willing to kill people as the Targs leave a lane of bodies in their path to power. Like this is one of my heaviest critiques of the series again, its relying way too fucking much on killing peoples who aren't necessarily the pretty blonde white people. Daemon and RHae have a traditional Valyrian heading bonding their blood together. Wearing red stained clothing and marking their foreheads with each others blood the incesticles begins once again. As the two kiss Laenor is alive, having faked his death and joining Sir Qarl for a time of freedom. Okay, I liked how Laenor just fucked off and faked his death. I feel sorry for the damn servant but still nice little ending. Gay Canon A lot of the tension in the scene where the two "Queens' are arguing sets a lot of good scene ieas for alt verses. I'd love to see one where the women get into a hate fucking or hate kissing. Now a few other things is Laenor fucking off to Essos would make a pretty good tale honestly. Hottakes:

So, Hull, the one town on Diftmark has a lot of Dragonseed and House Velaryon has a lot of obvious cadet branch families with how many white heads I saw at the mourning pavilion.

Vhagar being maybe one of the apparent mothers of all the main dragons makes her killing them later on so fucking sad.

Aemond being a total prat against everyone shows you that thedarker tone of the Targs is coming to the fore.

Helaena deserves better than what her terribad parents are going to give her.

Colrys' own ambition is yes one of the proto-starts of the fucking Black Council.

Otto is back to being a shitty enabler and along with Incel Knight is going to fuck shit up even mooore.

[lyranova]

Order: One Vanilla cake for the Vermillion’s with the topping “Family”! (Also this is very short, and focuses more on the squad being a family than just the Vermillion’s)

Tag: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare

“ C’mon brother it’s this way, hurry!” Leo shouted hurriedly as he dragged his older brother down the hall by his arm.

Fuegoleon wasn’t sure what was going on, but he assumed it was something serious since Leo came running to him and begged Fuegoleon to follow him. He wondered if someone had gotten seriously injured or if Mereoleona lost her temper again, maybe it was even both.

“ Hurry, it's right here!” Leo shouted as he moved towards the mess hall doors, he moved to the side to allow his older brother to open the doors and walk in first.

“ What is going on here?” Fuegoleon announced loudly as he opened the mess hall doors, but suddenly, he heard pops and saw confetti and string fly towards him and fall around him.

He heard excited shouts and ‘Congratulations Captain!’ ring out through the room. He looked around and saw his entire squad standing there with bright smiles on their faces.

“ What’s going on?” Fuegoleon asked in confusion, he turned as he heard Leo laugh cheerfully before pulling a hat in the shape of a cake out from behind his back and placing it on his older brother’s head.

“ We’re celebrating you potentially becoming the Wizard King, little brother.” Mereoleona said as she walked over and placed her hand onto Fuegoleon’s shoulder.

Fuegoleon blinked in surprise, this…was all for him? He watched as the Crimson Lions all nodded, confirming what his older sister said was true. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“ While I thank you all and appreciate the gesture, nothing is set in stone yet as to who will be the next Wizard King. For all we know it could be Nozel or even Captain Roselei of the Blue Knights, so please let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Fuegoleon said. He had a warm and appreciative smile on his face but he had a seriousness in his eyes.

“ If I may Captain Fuegoleon,” Randall began as he approached. “ While we all agree that anyone who were to become the Wizard King would truly deserve it, even if it isn’t you. But in my opinion, out of all the captains, you’re the only one who can lead Clover and the Magic Knights efficiently. Captain Nozel is a bit too…cool and comes across as unapproachable to most citizens and nobles, and Captain Roselei has a bit of a similar problem, except she’s a little more approachable than Captain Nozel.”

“ Meanwhile there’s you sir. You’re warm, approachable, you try to understand everyone’s point of views and you try to encourage them while also taking your role as Captain seriously. Which makes you perfect for the job.” Randall finished and Fuegoleon couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping his lips.

“ Are you sure that’s not just your biased opinion Randall?” Fuegoleon asked with a knowing look, and Randall rubbed the back of his head.

“ Maybe just a bit. But I’m sure there are lots of Clover citizens who feel the same way!” Randall insisted and the rest of his squad all nodded and muttered in agreement.

Fuegoleon shook his head, of course his squad would think the world of him, just as he thought the world of his squad. Leo suddenly grabbed his arm and led him to the head of the long dining table, he let go and gestured for him to sit down, which Fuegoleon did.

Soon, the other Crimson lions followed suit with Leo and Mereoleona sitting on his left and right respectively. As soon as everyone was seated people began loud and cheerful conversations, they were laughing and being merry, it was as though he had been declared the Wizard King this morning instead of just being mentioned as a contender.

‘ I wonder how long we’ll all be happy like this?’ Fuegoleon mused silently to himself as he stared out at the smiling faces of his squad.

But Fuegoleon was unsettled. Maybe it was because Julius disappeared, or maybe it was because each squad was going out and destroying the remaining devil’s that were still running around. But something seemed amiss here, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

He hadn’t voiced his worries or concerns to anyone, he didn’t want them to worry unnecessarily until he had something more concrete than just a gut feeling.

But for now Fuegoleon wouldn’t dwell on those thoughts and feelings of the future, instead he would focus on the thoughts and feelings of the here and now. He would relish in this happy moment with his family, and any future happy moments they would all experience together.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day!

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Surrender to the will of the elders

Satoru is forced to marry a girl he doesn't even know. Wanting to annoy everyone at once, he finds a girl and begins openly dating her, showing complete contempt for his fiancee. But for some reason elders don't try to beat him with a broom for cheating on his future wife and shaming the Gojo clan. What the?..

OR

The only time Satoru is not so much against following the elders' orders.

~

I watch this anime and constantly bang my head on the table, trying to understand how we moved from a bloody battle to comedy and from comedy to some kind of JoJo and men tearing off their clothes.

Silly humor, mismatch of characters, a strange plot and crooked hands of the author are possible. Also a strange notion of romance. Good luck.

~

Satoru considered it his duty to come two hours later to all the meetings of his clan, forcing the elders to wait uselessly, since they could not decide anything without him, because any decision would still have to be approved by the younger Gojo.

But now the sorcerer looked at his watch with horror and realized that he was only fifteen minutes late. At the same time, the servants have noticed him for a long time, so Satoru has no other choice but to go straight to the swamp of old snakes.

With every step, Gojo felt like he was finished. It wasn't even the elders of his clan who were to blame for this. Something that he could not control would soon bring him suffering and irritation incompatible with life.

Satoru opened the door with a big and happy smile, not even trying to pretend that he felt the slightest remorse about his lateness. To his surprise, the elders were only too happy, not even scolding him for his late arrival.

But not only this alerted Gojo. A man was sitting in a place that was always free and was such for special guests who were allowed to attend clan meetings. Next to him, with her head low and not showing her face, was a girl in a heavy and beautiful kimono, because of the layers of which the sorcerer could not even see the figure of a stranger. Satoru couldn't see the hair either, because they were tightly gathered in some strange but neat hairstyle and decorated with all kinds of jewelry and hairpins.

Gojo almost dropped the phone from the thought that flashed through his head. His face immediately lost all its usual playfulness. Satoru glared at the man who stood up to bow low and greet the head of another clan.

The younger sorcerer uselessly hoped for several minutes that they had not come to his soul. There were several other age-appropriate guys in the Gojo clan, whom Satoru tried to protect from a cruel marriage of convenience.

But any hopes were quickly killed when the head of the clan remembered that all these young people are now far outside Japan, and Satoru himself forbade representatives of other families to appear with requests for marriage if the prospective suitors are not in the estate.

Meanwhile, an unknown man introduced himself. As Gojo continued to stand and just stare into space, the most senior member of his clan cleared his throat and said:

–Let me thank you on behalf of the entire Gojo clan and from Satoru-sama in particular. We are honored that you have come so far to discuss this marriage.

The word "marriage" hit Satoru. He would have fallen if he didn't know how to handle such situations.

Gojo grunted and shrugged his shoulders, walking forward, just lifting his leg and ending up on the other side of the table, at which he eventually sits down.

–I refuse marriage,– the sorcerer said in a singsong voice, staring at the phone, openly showing his contempt for the guests. – I don't know where you came from there, but you can go back. As a souvenir, you can pick up a stone from the garden or something like that.

All the elders fell silent, trying to contain their anger. Satoru continued to look at pictures of cats on the Internet, mentally persuading the man to leave. However, the guest refused to move a centimeter.

–Oh, I understand, Satoru Gojo-sama, – the man finally said, smiling sincerely. The sorcerer with white hair was distracted from his phone, surprised by such an emotion unprecedented for this society. – I've heard about how you refuse all the brides who come to you. I don't want to upset you, but this time you have no choice.

Eyes the color of a bright sky are glaring at the man. Everyone in the room can feel this killing aura circling around the head of the Gojo clan. The man who brought his daughter just smiles, gets up and goes to the Satoru, who are closely watching his movements. The guest bows and holds out the scroll, the object quietly lands on the table.

–Your father, Satoru Gojo-sama, foresaw that you would never get married even after so many years. Therefore, a contract was signed with our clan, – Satoru immediately opened the scroll and read it. – If you don't find a wife by the age of twenty-five, I can come to the territory of the Gojo clan at any time and demand that you marry one of my daughters. If you don't mind, I have chosen my eldest child as your future wife.

The girl, still sitting with her head bowed low, only bowed more deeply, continuing to remain silent.

Satoru almost threw the scroll back at the still smiling man. In the contract signed many years ago, it was said that if Satoru refuses this marriage, all power in the clan will pass into the hands of the elders, who will eventually be able to marry the former head to the one they need. On top of everything else, there were many conditions that were unprofitable for Satoru, which only made this contract even more unprofitable for the sorcerer.

Gojo simply had no choice. Yes, he could try to escape, but as soon as the elders are not restrained by anything, Satoru will be found on any part of the planet and will be pursued until he surrenders.

The scroll was thrown at the guest's head. The man easily caught it and hid it in the pocket of his kimono, bowing. His smile was filled with cunning for the first time in the meeting.

–As I understand it, is it "yes", Satoru Gojo-sama?

The younger sorcerer just chuckled and turned away. His guest smiled harder, a little bloodthirsty and crazy, showing that the battle ended with his victory.

–In that case, my daughter will move to the Gojo Estate in the coming days, – the man bowed. Meanwhile, the girl got up and went to her father, also leaning forward. – Our clan will prepare for the wedding. Please leave it to us.

The guest retreated, allowing his daughter to pay respect to the head of another clan. Her head was still lowered, but now her face was covered by the sleeves of the kimono that she had put in front of her. When the girl spoke, her voice was quiet and submissive.

–It is an honor to meet you, Satoru Gojo-sama. I can consider myself blessed by the gods for having the right to become your wife. I swear to do everything to match the status of the wife of the head of the Gojo clan.

Satoru watched as the girl continued to bow and hide her face in her sleeves before turning around and following the father, obediently trailing behind like a sheep led by a shepherd.

As a result, nothing was decided at the meeting. Satoru just growled at the elders for not telling him anything about the marriage contract, and then got up and left, stepping over the table again, refusing to go around all the elders to get to the exit.

The door slammed so hard that it flew off and fell to the floor with a loud bang.

*+*

A few days later, as it was said, the girl began to live in the estate. She still wore her expensive and formal clothes, except for a little less jewelry on her head. Her hair is perfectly gathered, as if she is going to go to a wedding in a few minutes.

Satoru`s bride followed her groom, wishing him good morning, asking him what he would have for dinner, was interested in his day and did everything that a "good bride" should do. But Satoru waved her off.

But exactly until the moment when everything finally enraged him.

The girl refused to raise her head and said that before the wedding, a man and a woman should not sleep in the same bed. She was also very quiet and never contradicted the elders, dutifully accepting all their advice and words. She always followed Satoru's orders, even if they were stupid and showed only his bullying.

(For example, when the sorcerer forced her to run away and buy him sweets, and in the end, yawning, said that the girl brought the wrong ones. "Did I say 'with mint'? Oh, I meant with strawberries! Eh? Did you bring them too? You know, I've already changed my mind somehow...")

–So you'll do whatever I tell you to do? – one day the sorcerer asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the girl who came to greet him in the morning.

–Yes, Satoru-sama. It's my duty as your fiancee.

–Then undress.

The girl trembled, Satoru could see how her eyes opened slightly, into which he never looked directly, because his bride always looked at the floor. A strong shiver ran through the girl's skin, and Gojo thought that she would finally show character, but this did not happen. Continuing to shake with fear and disgust at the order, the bride Satoru reached for the kimono belt to untie it.

But before her fingers touched the fabric, the sorcerer clicked and waved away.

–You're absolutely doomed. You don't even want to yell at me and call me a pervert?

–B-but you're my fiance…

–Didn't you say that a man and a woman should not sleep in the same bed before the wedding?

–If you, Satoru-sama, want to do something with me so much before the wedding, then I cannot refuse you…

Gojo just brushed her off. He didn't even try to talk to her anymore. He didn't even try to find out her name, which he completely ignored, calling her just a "silent, weak-willed toy." Even if the girl didn't like this long nickname, she didn't say anything.

Satoru was getting madder every day. He could not do anything with his fiancee, as she would simply accept it as her fate, so he chose the elders as revenge. Why not disgrace them and at the same time the clan of that cheeky man, declaring at the wedding that he loves another and kiss this "other" in front of everyone instead of the bride?

It remains only to find a girl in the place of this "other".

*+*

It was the day when Satoru met his love. It was definitely it. Such cute sides, shining coating and sweetness felt even from here. And how this wonderful creature winked at him from such a distance! Gojo couldn't resist.

A piece of chocolate cake with a bright strawberry on top seemed to be waiting for Satoru and only Satoru.

The sorcerer immediately abandoned all his business to buy yummy. There was no queue at the bakery, so he planned to get this cute piece of cake and some more goodies for his students.

However, when he approached the cash register, a girl appeared in front of him with hair sticking out on all sides from a ponytail (h/c), who ordered exactly the cake that he wanted!

Gojo immediately smiled his most charming smile and put his hand on the stranger's shoulder. She started and turned around, her eyes widened when she saw the tall man behind her.

–Hello, hello, pretty miss. I was wondering if you would like to give this piece of cake to me? I can pay for your order as compensation.

The girl looked for a few seconds at where Satoru's eyes should be. A saleswoman with a packed piece of cake and a bag awkwardly looked at two people standing in front of the cash register.

Suddenly, the stranger raised her hand and poked Gojo in the bridge of her nose.

–How did you even understand what I'm going to take if you're blind?

Satoru grunted and pulled off the blindfold, showing his eyes. As he thought, the girl's eyes widened in amazement, she opened her mouth in delight.

–I hide my eyes not because I'm blind, but because otherwise too many nice ladies like you will just faint in the middle of the day.

Satoru winked, and the girl almost melted. She smiled and giggled, shaking her head.

–Well, can I get my cake now?

–M-m-m, thanks for the wonderful sight, but... no!

Before turning around abruptly, she stuck out her tongue at Gojo.

Satoru tried to get a cake a couple more times, but instead of words, the girl put the first piece in her mouth, deliberately chewing it with the most satisfied face in the world. She even stopped for a few seconds to press her hand to her cheek, showing with all her appearance that the dessert is simply incomparable.

–Hey, this is a direct mockery!

–And what you are doing now is harassment.

–I'm just trying to get this cake! It was looking at me when I walked into the bakery! All the seeds in the strawberries were little eyes that watched my every move and waited for me to come and pick them up!

Suddenly, a hand landed on Gojo's forehead. The girl blinked a couple of times, frowning, then stopped standing on her toes, sinking to the entire sole.

–There seems to be no temperature... hm-m, there seems to be no mental hospitals nearby…

–I'm fine!

–You see eyes instead of strawberry seeds.

–Someone does not know what "impersonation" is.

Satoru walked next to the girl a little more, until in the end he asked to try at least strawberries.

–Strawberries?.. Okay, that can be arranged.

Gojo's eyes shone. Strawberries will have this precious chocolate on them! The fruit was brought to the sorcerer's mouth, the yummy was so close that the smell filled both nostrils of the man. But at the last moment the strawberries were in the mouth of the girl, who smirked.

–I paid for this cake. So all the strawberries are mine!

And she left like a winner, her hair hanging out of her ponytail swaying in the light wind, and her crumpled clothes sometimes lifted up, showing a little uneven relative to the color of her skin.

Satoru watched her for long seconds. Then he walked away.

At home, he was particularly annoyed and behaved like a child. Having forced his fiancee to rush around the estate several times to find him some non-existent things, he eventually just sent her away. After those hair sticking out in all directions and crumpled clothes, the perfect hairstyle and expensive kimono of his bride irritated Satoru even more.

The next day, the stranger with unkempt hair was again near the bakery. But this time it was Gojo's turn to take her dessert. (E/c) the eyes stared at the tall man, and then the girl lightly stamped her foot.

–I've wanted to try this cake since my arrival in Tokyo!

–As you said earlier, I paid for this cake. Do you want to stay and enjoy the sight of me eating it?

The girl pouted, and Satoru almost felt sorry for her. But in the end, his desire to make fun of a stranger who did not know what a comb was overcame any good will inside.

With a dissatisfied hiss, the girl walked away, stomping loudly and sulking, as Satoru did yesterday.

The battle for sweets continued for two more weeks. Both came in for food every day, fighting fair or hitting from the back. Sometimes they arranged competitions like "rock-paper-scissors", sometimes they brazenly made their order in the middle of a conversation-dispute, sometimes they threw a coin.

Such disputes took a lot of time, but since there were no queues around, the saleswoman did not try to yell at people, frankly enjoying their ridiculous behavior.

But sooner or later, attempts to win dessert for yourself and laugh at the opponent had to end.

Lovers of sweets stopped, looking at the glass cases. Their favorite sweets were in the amount of exactly two pieces, so you could not only buy food for yourself, but also steal from the enemy.

However, people did not have the last thought.

–Looks like the balance has finally been found, – the girl muttered, bending down to take a closer look at the dessert.

–Even my fun is over, – Satoru sighed, shaking his head. – Hey, can you see how much that cake at the bottom costs? It's closer to you.

–Exactly nine thousand yen. You can give me the change.

–Someone needs to learn to lie better, – he bent down and put his elbow on the girl's head. – Wouldn't it be easier to just ask to pay for your order?

–Something tells me that for this I will have to humiliate and ask you on my knees.

–You can go down right now, you're just not far from the floor.

The girl got up and waved Satoru away, naming her order. When asked to attach a card, Gojo deftly extended his own, leaving the two women to stare in surprise at the check coming out, then at the owner of the white hair.

But the saleswoman really didn't care who was paying, so she walked away the fastest, handing the girl a check and thanking her for the purchase with a smile. The stranger silently took her order, stepping aside and waiting for Satoru to pay for his. She had to collect her thoughts and thank him.

They left together, slowly heading towards the least crowded areas.

–M-m, thanks for paying for my food, – the girl smiled weakly, pointing to the package. – I hope you will enjoy yours.

–Unfortunately, half of it will go to my students, – Satoru sighed as if someone was forcing him to buy sweets for others.

–Oh, are you a teacher? Not too similar.

–Give me one reason before I throw my glove in your face!

–Well, first of all, a teacher should be more sober than his students and not try to take desserts from a strange girl for two weeks.

–Pf-f-t, big deal! – he growled, – but he smiled sharply and jumped slightly. – Ok, we can easily get rid of this item. What's your name?

–It wasn't exactly free food payment after all?

–As if your name is cursed or something like that.

–No, but... – the man continued to look directly at her, and the girl swallowed. Shaking her head, she lowered her shoulders lower and muttered: – M-my name is (Y/N)...

–Last name?  – the sorcerer immediately asked.

–(Y-Y/S).

The girl shrank for some reason, but the man only giggled and identified himself. “Satoru Gojo. You can tell everyone that you were able to steal more food from me than I stole from you”.

 (Y/N) stopped, turning her head to Satoru. Her eyes widened, she stared at the smiling man for a couple of seconds, and then blushed and covered her face, turning away in shame.

–M? What happened? I'm kind of as cute as I was a few seconds ago…

–T-that's not the point! I'm... I'm so ashamed! – she whispered, sitting down on the ground and trying to hide away from the tall man. It didn't work out, because Satoru squatted down by himself. "M?" – I knew that the famous Satoru Gojo was a tall man with white hair and blue eyes, but I thought… I thought until the last that you were still not him...

–And there were options?

–Y-you never know how many people in the Gojo clan who fit this description...

A second of silence, and then a joyful:

–Oh, so you're a sorcerer too! – Satoru purred. Then he frowned. – You're kind of weak, I didn't even realize you had strength until you said, – he poked the girl on the cheek.

–I know, – she answered softly, raising her red face. – Because my family's abilities are aimed at support and assistance, and not at participating in fights, – "Hm-m?.."  – My family has almost no attacking techniques, but we are excellent at creating deterrent barriers, increasing the characteristics of team members and helping them fight, even if the fear of death shackles the body. In addition, in the future, the techniques passed down from the father to the children will be enhanced by my blood in their veins… In general, I'm just a support in every sense of the word.

(Y/N) didn't see it, but the elder sorcerer's eyes shone. He stood up, grabbing her with one hand and carrying her like a box.

–W–where are we going?! – she screamed, waving her legs and barely holding the sweets.

–We're going to test your abilities on my students! Let's go, let's go, let's go!

The girl has only to sigh and let herself be carried. Well, at least she had food.

*+*

–So this is what your students look like, Gojo-sama? – you put your hands on your sides, looking at a bunch of energy, a bunch of aggression and a bunch of... indifference and fatigue?.. – They're so... different.

–Which of my children do you like more? – Satoru asked, using you as a walking stick for his long body. You just raised your hand and snapped your fingers in front of his face. Gojo's legs buckled, but he managed to stand up straight.

–I thought you didn't have children, Gojo-sama.

–My students are like children to me, – said the sorcerer with the most loving face, rushing forward. – Come on, Megumi, hug your beloved sensei!..

Instead of Fushigoru, the man was hugged by Yuji, whom Nobara pushed onto a man with white hair.

–I recommend him as a father by one point out of a hundred, – Megumi said, watching his sensei spin the third member of the small team around in a circle.

–And why are you so generous with a whole one point? – you asked, immediately catching the offended look of the strongest sorcerer.

–Because he sometimes did not forget to feed me.

–On what days?

–Usually it was holidays, so I put only one point.

Meanwhile, Nobara was frowning at your clothes, which you haven't ironed... ever. Isn't it possible to afford at least sometimes such a rarity? You smiled at the girl and waved your hand a couple of times, but she turned away.

–So why did you come? – Megumi asked, looking at your figure. – Don't tell me you're a Gojo-sensei`s girl. If so, I am truly sorry for you.

–Thanks, but even if I was his girlfriend, nothing would help me anymore.

Meanwhile, Yuji stopped hugging Satoru and hurried over to introduce himself. After a few minutes, you already knew and remembered the names of the little "Gojo chicks", they also knew yours.

–S-so what am I supposed to do there? – you asked, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

–Fight! – Gojo grabbed you, threw you over his shoulder and told his students to follow him. You screamed and fought, asking to let go at least this time.

The thoughts of the three teenagers were the same. "Either they are actually dating, or it's time to call the police and report the abduction of the girl."

Satoru pretended to warm up while you put up a protective barrier and touched the hands of his students with eyes shining with interest. Commenting on their abilities and the techniques they could use, you smiled contentedly, ignoring the incomprehension on the faces of the younger sorcerers. Yes, you coped well with your task of support, so is it surprising that you were just able to find out almost all the information about the enemy by touching their hand?

Gojo also managed to ask why he suddenly felt weak when you snapped your hand in front of his face. You started saying something about the interaction of your cursed energy with his, about weakening the opponent and using his weaknesses in battle, especially if the cursed energy of the attacker is well studied earlier… In the end, you simply stated that these are the secrets of your family, and in order to find them out, he needs to marry you.

–Oh, I can do it now, – he lifted the blindfold and winked at you.

–As far as I know, you have a fiancee, Gojo-sama, – you said with an impenetrable face. Satoru pouted, and his students almost fell face down on the floor.

–I don't even know her name, so I'd rather marry you.

The young people in the background fell to the floor for the second time. While Sukuna`s vessel was shouting something about the injustice of life and the cruelty of his teacher, Megumi pursed his lips and said nothing.

But back to the battle. It was, as predicted, quite fast. You have watched how teenagers cannot strike a single blow, let their movements become faster, the total supply of cursed energy increased, and the brain began to think faster.

You also tried to slow down Satoru a couple of times, but you will not be paid for this battle even with food, so you could not count on more little sorcerers.

But in the end, at least they weren't lying on the floor with open wounds all over their bodies. They sat, dissatisfied, eating snacks bought by the teacher.

–You didn't even die! Great job, (Y/S)-chan!

–Um... thanks?..

–We need a photo!

But in the end, they still piled on you, forcing you to fall to the ground. Several pictures were taken while Gojo was holding you in a tight embrace, and you were struggling like a fish thrown out of the water. But it was too late, the photos were uploaded to the network.

At the end of your torment, you made Satoru fall down out of the blue, shaking off your clothes and complaining that you just bought it.

When Gojo came home, he heard the elders scolding his fiancee for some reason, which the head of the clan does not even want to go into. Perhaps constant reprimands will teach the girl at least sometimes to open her mouth not to meekly say "yes" and "it will be done now." Shrugging his shoulders, Satoru went to his room, humming contentedly.

*+*

–Here, eat!

–Hey, why such aggression in such a small body?

–Maybe you shouldn't greet me with the words "little ant".

–Ants are strong! Did you know that they lift fifty times their weight?

–Considering my physical characteristics, this is just a mockery.

–I'm sure you can even lift me.

And that's why the students who are eating snacks prepared by you are forced to watch their teacher trying to lift a small – compared to him – girl. Her cheeks swell, her face turns red when the man still manages to get off the ground.

–I told you you could, (Y/S)-cha-an!

–I'm going to... break my back-k!

–I can't help you, I'm not a doctor.

You just throw Gojo on the ground. Unfortunately, he doesn't land on the fifth point. You take a chocolate chip cookie from him as compensation.

Your visit to the students and Satoru itself soon became a daily activity. When Nobara asked where you got so much free time, you said that you were not working yet because you would have to become a wife.

–Do you still have someone?! Oh, why couldn't you reject my feelings earlier so as not to break them?!

–First of all, you already have a bride, Gojo-sama. I'm talking about this for the umpteenth time. Secondly, there is a chance that I will go home at all, – he has looked at you carefully. You had to explain: – I came to Tokyo so that my father would find me a groom from some strong and influential family, so that my blood would give a strong heir. But there is a chance that in the end I will leave empty-handed. Since while my father is running on excursions and enjoying life, I don't go to any meetings, so I'd rather be here than it's useless to walk around the city or the estates of my father's close friends.

–So you're going to leave me eventually? - Satoru sighs, using you as a stand again.

–I do not pretend to be your second wife, – you try to push him away, but you meet with an impassable barrier.

– Are harems allowed in Japan? - Yuji exhales thoughtfully. Sukuna wants to say something, but he is suppressed much, much earlier.

–Let's save your psyche and not discuss the traditions of the big clans.

–I've seen monsters, nothing can surprise me anymore!

–Naive little child, – you stroked the vessel of the curse on the head with a small smile. – How pretty you all are.

You keep stroking the teenagers' hair, ignoring Satoru's squeals that he wants to get stroked too.

Not only did you visit young sorcerers and an old man almost daily, but you also went on missions with "Gojo kids" when a man couldn't keep an eye on them. Your fighting skills were limited to using weapons, but that didn't stop you from saving freshmen a couple of times and patiently explaining to them after their mistakes.

You brought food, were patient and even adequate. Nobara soon came to terms with your untidy appearance, and if Satoru was a father to these children, then you became a mother.

And dad and mom go on dates, right?

You were surprised when you were invited to the Gojo Estate. Satoru didn't explain anything, but you guessed that it was his desire to mock the elders. The head of the clan posted a lot of photos with you, signing them with the most ambiguous phrases, but so far the old people of the family have not said anything. Gojo planned to completely ignore his fiancee by spending the day with you.

However, his fiancee was not at home. The servants, trembling and for some reason pale, reported that the girl had left for some family business. Then Satoru decided to show you to the elders, and even if you resisted, the old people still saw your crumpled clothes and hair sticking out to the side.

People, to Gojo's surprise and disappointment, didn't say anything. They just looked at you with a look of twenty percent contempt. And no more reaction.

You decided to improve Satoru's mood by capturing the kitchen in the estate and cooking him sweets. Gojo took part with pleasure, and as a result you were soiled in flour, the sorcerer slipped a couple of times on the oil he spilled, almost hitting his head on the kitchen cabinets. Every time he stood up and smiled awkwardly, without getting hurt in any way, you hit the expensive surface with your hand in frustration.

You had to let Satoru lick a spoonful of cream so that he wouldn't complain and shout in your ear that you don't really love him.

–Wow, you know what a stove is, Gojo-sama.

–I even know how to use it, – the man said with a grin, following your instructions and setting the temperature and mode according to your instructions.

–Ah, I take all the words that you can't even break an egg so that the shell doesn't get into the dishes, back. How could I miss such a man? Maybe I will still be able to persuade your elders and father so that I can marry you?

–I will gladly exchange my bride for you, – he poked the button a couple of times, not understanding why the oven was not working. You sat down next to him and began to sort it out.

–What's wrong with her? – you asked, solving the problem in a few seconds.

 Satoru was just looking at you when he pressed the button, so he missed.

–I can write you a list sometime if I'm free.

–Do you even know her name?

–Should I?

–I see, – and you get up to set the timer.

While the cookies are being baked, you sit together with Satoru on the kitchen floor and play "Uno". This situation reminds Gojo of the times when his mother secretly sneaked into the kitchen with him to cook sweets, since little Satoru did not get enough, because sweets are harmful to the body, and it is not allowed to spoil the future head of the clan.

Distracted, the man does not understand why you win five minutes after the start of the game. He would love to announce that you are a crook, throwing cards at you, but by the time he realizes that you are just throwing all the cards at once, the cookies are already ready.

Soon Satoru, with the happiest face of a little puppy, is eating his sweets with milk like a little child, and you are sitting on the couch, pulling your legs up to yourself, choosing a movie and thinking out loud how much you can sell a Gojo TV for if you take it off the wall after this evening and take it with you.

–Great, I found a movie that fits your humor.

–Isn't this the most terrible comedy filmed this year?

–That's why I said "yours", not "ours".

There was no fight for the remote control, he just threw a cookie at you, which you caught in your mouth. In the end, by a general vote and another game of "Uno", some kind of horror movie was chosen, which was more funny than scary.

You sat in the dark and watched as the main character slowly walks through the building with a gun and a flashlight, constantly looking around. Satoru was constantly fidgeting, trying to fit on the couch, until eventually he threw his legs over you. To his surprise, you didn't resist and just shifted the bowl of chips to the other side.

When Gojo was fully focused on the movie, you slowly brought your hand closer to his feet. Touching the edge of your pants and not finding the barrier that always protected the most powerful sorcerer from others, you deftly slid to your bare legs and tickled the skin.

Satoru's scream probably woke up the whole estate.

A tall man, not used to being touched, much less being tickled, screamed and fell off the sofa. You giggled at his frightened face, the blindfold slipped off his face, revealing one eye. A second later, the sky blue was clouded by cunning and playfulness, and now it's your turn to suffer.

As a result, you ended up on the floor with him, in the background someone was screaming, having met with a monster. The heavy Satoru fell on you and refused to leave, according to him, the soft chest. You just hit him on the back a couple of times and eventually gave up.

Gojo didn't understand why he allowed himself to be touched so easily. Why did he invite you to his house at all and did not walk around the elders' bedrooms now, confessing his love to you and saying that he wanted to end his marriage with the girl his father had chosen for him. Maybe because it was much more important to lie down and listen to your heartbeat.

You were a mixture of everything Satoru loved and hated. A bright personality who knows how to take care of others and stand up for herself. But at the same time, a weak person who is too exposed to their emotions and fears to always openly express what is on your mind.

It wasn't clear why he felt comfortable around you. It's like you're his old friend. Perhaps this is some kind of your technique, and tomorrow he will be found dead on the territory of his own estate? Oh, maybe, maybe...

 But so far it was so nice to feel someone else's fingers plaiting his ridiculous braids, it was so nice to feel a leg thrown over his back, slightly pressing on his spine, to hear your comments every few minutes of the movie and hug the body lying under him.

Satoru rarely noticed when he was tired. And today he didn't notice anything either. He just fell asleep.

When you saw that Gojo was snoring peacefully on your chest, you were able to kick the remote off the sofa with your foot and catch it with your hand. Turning off the TV, you got comfortable, slightly pushing Satoru aside. The sorcerer twitched in his sleep, grunted, and then snuggled closer to you, looking for safety and warmth.

A few minutes later, a pale and trembling servant entered the room. He looked at what was happening with embarrassment, raising the candle higher.

–(Y/N) (Y/S)-s-s ... sa... sam... san...

–Bring a blanket, please, – you asked quietly. The servant immediately nodded, becoming resolute, and left to return a couple of minutes later with warm blankets.

You covered Gojo, hugged him and closed your eyes. Sleep.

*+*

–W-why are you doing this?! – you were waving your legs, trying to get out of the grip of Satoru, who was holding you in his arms.

–Because it's my sandwich. I knew you wanted to steal it.

–I-isn't it easier to just lift the box into the air? S-Satoru-kun!..

–You can still reach it if you take a stepladder. And so I will not only hold you on my hands, but I will not let you eat my food!

–Actually, I cooked it!

–Then I won't give you any more!

You continued to resist, when suddenly Satoru bends down and kisses you on the lips. You begin to resist more actively, blushing deeply and being embarrassed in front of his students. Teenagers just look in different directions, continuing to eat the food brought to them.

Several months have passed since that incident. The Satoru wedding was constantly postponed because such a huge event was not so easy to arrange. It was necessary to invite a hundred people, make a lot of orders, rent a building for a wedding, decorate it and do hundreds more different actions that his bride's clan and elders were engaged in, so Gojo did not know at what stage the preparations were. But he still went on missions as often as possible to talk about how he was busy and could not help.

The bride Satoru still continued to be the perfect spot, looming somewhere in the background, leaving in the morning and returning in the evening, as someone had to prepare the wedding.

Meanwhile, you continued to seize power, cooking food for students and teachers, helping them in training and just killing everyone with your crumpled and untidy cuteness.

(Because only people who have nothing to do in the morning can iron clothes and put their hair in beautiful hairstyles).

You became a plush toy for Gojo, with which he hugged in front of high-ranking sorcerers. You were shown with such pride, as if you had given birth to five children for the clan with the same abilities as Satoru, and plan to give birth to as many more. All this was confusing, but you didn't try to stop the sorcerer when he started talking that you were his girlfriend.

Too many photos of you appeared online, and soon even the non-progressive elders knew that Satoru had someone on the side. But instead of long lectures, they scolded his fiancee and told Gojo to continue in the same spirit.

(After that, the head of the clan even checked the elders' medical records, this time to make sure there were no illnesses, and not vice versa).

Satoru also did not forget to show his fiancee photos from dates that she would never be able to attend. The girl was flipping through the phone with empty eyes, continuing to look at the ground and not showing her face, for some reason hidden by a veil for a long time. But Gojo didn't need to see him to know she was upset.

(Because almost every day, loud sobs and wild sounds like insane laughter could be heard from his fiancee's room).

You kept coming to Gojo Manor and spending time with the clan head, mostly doing some childish things and sometimes fighting. Satoru has never used even one-sixteenth of his strength next to you, at the end lifting you up in his arms and twirling around victoriously, shouting something about how you are now in his power.

You always left, leaving behind a vase of cookies baked with Gojo. Soon you became associated with homemade cakes and something warm and cozy. The confession was spontaneous. You cooked a bunch of meringues and turned away for just a second to get a plate for sweets. When you turned around, Satoru had already stuffed half of it in his mouth.

As punishment, Gojo received mockery of his cheeks, which were stretched in different directions, as well as a personal lecture from you. Despite his puppy dog eyes, Satoru seemed to genuinely enjoy your attention and the way your fingers gently stretch his skin.

Seeing the most powerful sorcerer completely in your hands was... so strange. You looked into his stupid blue eyes and saw pure and childish delight, as well as... trust. Have you earned his trust? How long ago? And why? But you didn't care. This emotion has surprised your heart too much.

That's why you couldn't help yourself. Bending down, you touched your lips to Satoru's lips.

It was quick and innocent. It's more like two little kids kissing. But all the same, your cheeks turned very red, you let go of Gojo and walked away a few steps, feeling that you were about to faint from embarrassment.

The head of the clan blinked for a few seconds, and then smiled slyly. Danger.

–And this, in your opinion, is a punishment? Come here, (Y/N)-chan, now I'll show you how to punish people!

And you were attacked with kisses and hugs, against which you could not use any technique.

The most terrible thing was that a servant suddenly entered the small and spare kitchen, who dropped the tray borrowed here and, turning pale, quickly left. Satoru swore to find him, and you, trying to recover from shame, jumped on him and started screaming to ask him not to do stupid things.

As a result, he started kissing you again. These victims…

*+*

The wedding was getting closer and closer, and Gojo was furious that no one was trying to stop him.

Your every date became the property of the network, and sometimes you had to beat Satoru with a pillow, because you were tired of all the subscribers of the head of the Gojo clan knowing about your every step.

Despite the constant updating of information and the open display of their love for you, no one shouted at Satoru, declaring him unfaithful and wanting to force him to end the relationship on the side. The elders were quiet and even obedient, sometimes muttering something about the fact that the head of their clan had finally come to his senses. High-ranking sorcerers were silent when Satoru brought you to all important meetings instead of his bride. Even Nanami, with whom you have managed to get acquainted over these months and discover some interesting facts about yourself, did not try to say anything, just told Gojo that he was a blind idiot.

(Satoru persuaded you to go with him and check your eyesight. It was perfect. You wanted to kill him even more).

The closer the wedding was, the more Satoru clung to you like a koala, preventing you from texting with your father's partners and working. Gojo demanded all the attention, and often it all ended with you sitting and working at the computer, and the sorcerer was placed on his knees, hugging your legs and stomach.

Satoru has asked you several times to promise that you will come to his wedding. You've noticed that it's weird to invite your girlfriend to a wedding with another girl, but Gojo just mumbled something about having a plan.

(You had to agree).

(The bride Satoru screamed and screamed louder every night).

On the wedding day, Gojo couldn't see you, as he had to stand and wait for the next kimono belt to be tied. However, Satoru received a supportive message from you and a photo of some squirrel that you saw on the way to the wedding.

The white-haired sorcerer couldn't wait for the moment when all the efforts of the elders and his father would be destroyed. Oh, he wasn't going to lose power. He also wasn't going to give up on getting married. But he had his own plans for it. To announce that he has fallen in love with another and wants to marry her. Technically, he will have a bride, the elders' wish will be fulfilled, so why would he marry someone he doesn't love?

Standing at the altar, Satoru was looking for you in the back rows, because in the first – even though he asked you to sit there – you were not there. But the closer his bride was to him, the more the sorcerer's heart ached.

Where is she? Had she been attacked on the way? Gojo's eyes widened with a sharp realization. She could have been caught and eliminated so that she would not interfere with the wedding. I have to save her!..

But then the priest started talking, and Satoru turned to the man in horror. He seemed to go deaf for a second.

The elders predicted that the head of the clan would try to escape. Therefore, they asked the priest to shorten the speech to one sentence.

The bride answered "yes" when asked if she was ready to take the head of the Gojo clan as her husband. Satoru opened his mouth, ready to shout "no" before the priest could say anything, but he couldn't even say a word.

His bride lifted her head from the bouquet, having stopped hiding her face. Your smile and that slightly insane laugh stunned Gojo for the second time. It turns out that these were not sobs in despair. These were attempts to release previously suppressed laughter at one time.

Satoru could only close his mouth and nod at the priest's question. At a normal wedding, his answer would not have been accepted. But in this case, the priest declared two sorcerers husband and wife.

–A?.. How?!. What for?..

–I just knew for sure that my fiance would refuse to even try to get to know me. And it is much freer to live when you act as just "(Y/N)", and not "the wife of the head of the Gojo clan". Besides, you didn't annoy me all the time.

Satoru continued to look at you in surprise, as if you were about to turn into a curse. Rolling your eyes, you hit him in the face with a bouquet, causing everyone in the hall to gasp, and then pulled your husband to you to kiss him. And the head of the clan to which you now belong was not against it.

For the first and last time, he accepted the will of the elders. And it was... not even that bad.

[burdswritersblock]

Fractured, Ch. 1

Gif created by @nyx4 - an absolute lovely angel

******

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying

Summary: Three months after his disappearance, Wei Wuxian walks out of Burial Mounds, full of malignant power and a thirst for revenge, not only against the Wen clan, but ALL of the clans.

Weeks later, a lost and confused Wei Ying arrives in Yiling with no memory of who he is or where he's been. Worse, he seems to have momentarily lost every skill he's ever learned, leaving him defenseless against anyone mistaking him for Wei Wuxian.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian shows no sign of slowing down in his mission to bring the cultivation world to its knees.

Chapter 1 below the cut.

1... Someone was screaming, loudly and breathlessly, the sound full of pain and just a touch of terror. The sound was loud enough to echo back on itself and something in the distance was howling in response. Slowly, the screams died away, leaving pitiful whimpers and gasps in their place. How much more can you take? As much as is necessary! For all I know, this is killing you. I... I don't care. I have to do it. It's too late to go back now. I warned you... Wen Qing... I know... I knew before we started. Ju... just keep going... finish it... please... The screaming began again, though the voice cracked and shattered as the night went on. By dawn, there was no more voice to scream, but there was agony in the sounds that still filtered from the man lying on the ground, writhing, fingers digging into dirt. A strong set of hands held his shoulders tightly, holding him in place as the man's head thrashed against his thighs, the face hovering above it all twisted in concentration and worry. A woman knelt to the side, her hands slowly, painstakingly drawing the golden core from the man. Behind her, another young man lay silently, waiting, unconscious and unaware of what was happening. The other three knew he'd object harshly and loudly if he were awake, so they were grateful that the sedative was still doing its work. Almost. Endure it. It will be over soon. I promise... *** Dark eyes opened slowly, their vision blurred and shaky as they rolled side to side, trying to make out the surrounding area. A hand swam into view, drawing the focus of those eyes until things began to come into clarity. He was laying on the ground again, he could feel it cold and hard beneath him, but there was no sky above him. Only more cold, unforgiving stone. A groan left the man as he began to move his limbs, feeling stiff and sore from head to toe. Why am I barefoot? The thought sounded funny in his head, his inner voice unfamiliar and echoing. Rolling to his side, he forced his body to sit up, feeling a wave of nausea overtake him at the movement. He dry heaved a few times, coughing painfully. My ribs are bruised... what happened to me? It took a while before he got to his feet without falling, and when he finally managed it, he was nursing a gash on the palm of his hand from catching himself on a jagged rock. His head swam and he felt like he was drowning despite being able to breathe. Where's Lan Zhan? I need to find... wait... who's Lan Zhan? Step by stumbling step, he made his way toward the source of light across the cavernous room, the ragged red robe he was wearing dragging on the ground around his feet. Blood dripped from his hand, leaving a trail of tiny droplets in his wake, but he didn't notice, not really. All he wanted was the sunlight. His entire being throbbed and he wondered if he'd been in a fight and lost. Everything ached and screamed, even his teeth. He finally made it to the mouth of the cave and looked out, squinting against the bright light. Where am I? Using his clean hand, he shoved at the mess of his hair where it lay in his face, taking slow steps out into that light, feeling it warm him so suddenly that he shivered violently. He dropped to his knees, dry heaving again as the warm wind stirred up the dirt in the courtyard, sending it into the air in tiny tornadoes. His stomach ached and his ribs felt tight around his lungs. Panting, he remained on his hands and knees for a time, fingers making furrows in the hard packed earth. When the vertigo passed, he got to his feet again, looking around through burning eyes. …  Burial Mounds... this is... this... he threw me in... how... did I live? Trying to remember made his head spin and he nearly fell again, so he shoved the thoughts away. Instead, he focused on walking, one foot ahead of the other, and staying upright. From the tilt of the sun, it was early in the day, not yet noon, and it was already getting hot. Sweat gathered on his brow and neck, running down his skin in sticky streams, making the robe he wore stick to him. He knew there were other layers

he should have on, but he had no idea where they'd gone. Best not to think about that right now. At the head of a path, he had to lean on a tree, using both hands now to shove at his hair, uncaring of the blood he was adding to the dirt already in it. He was hot, he was exhausted, and worst of all, he had no idea what had happened to him. He stopped, his eyes going wide with shock. Who am I? No. No, don't think about that. He had to keep moving. It took him hours to descend the path, his legs repeatedly giving out and spilling him into the dirt again. He lay there longer each time before he was able to get up again and keep moving, tears cutting clean tracks in his dirt stained cheeks. He could imagine what kind of fright he must be. When he finally reached the bottom and stepped out of the dark, twisted trees, he thought his lungs might burst as the air was suddenly clearer in them. Stumbling forward, he cried out and collapsed into the tall grass, feeling the sunlight burning into his back, even warmer than it had been on the mountain. Rolling over, he let it bathe his face as he lay there, crying again though he didn't know why. Panting, gasping, his entire body sobbing with pain, darkness stole over his vision and he fell away into nothingness for a time. Something licking his fingers woke him hours later. Turning his head slowly, he watched a fox kit nudge his hand and lick at him again, making soft chirping sounds. His fingers twitched and the kit took off into the grass. A moan filtered from him as he pushed himself upright, though he felt a little clearer this time. His hand wasn't bleeding anymore and the cut had started to scab up, though it was an angry color. Reaching for the tattered hem of his robe, he yanked off a large piece and wrapped his hand tightly before getting to his feet again. Which way? Turning in a slow circle, he chose at random and began to walk. The day dragged on but he fell a lot less the more he moved. The foothills slowly fell away to an open plain and in the distance, he could see a city. Obviously, he'd chosen correctly in which way to go, so he kept his eye on it. As the sun was setting, he found himself looking at a river he hadn't even realized he was following. Stripping out of his clothes, he threw himself into the icy water, drawing a series of loud gasps from his lungs as he scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and hair. His feet were the worst, torn and bruised from the rocks and hardpan earth he'd traveled all day. Afterward, he sat naked on a rock, letting the warm evening dry his skin before pulling his robe back on and wrapping his hand with another strip from the bottom of it. He felt a little better as he twisted his hair to wring it out, tossing it back over his shoulder where it finally stayed put. It wasn't clean by a long shot, but he could manage it now. He started to walk again, feeling the first faint rumble of hunger in his stomach, but he had no food and he was worried that drinking the water in the river would make him throw up, it was so cold. So he walked and he ignored it, the city coming closer a little at a time. It was full dark when he finally reached the gate, his hair dry and his feet aching worse than ever now. Sticking to the shadows, he slipped inside the city, hurrying into the first alleyway he spotted. Why am I hiding? He didn't know, but he did it anyway. Probably because he looked so bad. As he moved slowly and carefully at the fringe of the evening crowds, his mind kept flashing back to a pair of child sized hands reaching out to vendors stalls, sometimes able to snag some tiny morsel, but more often than not those hands were slapped and their owner cursed and beaten. Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts aside, ignoring the growling in his stomach as the smell of food wafted over him. Blinking, he realized that he was standing behind one of the food vendors, an arm outstretched as if to take the meat that lay so tantalizingly close. Just as he was about to draw away, the vendor turned and spotted him, giving a shout as

he lashed out. The words jumbled in his mind as he backed away, making sounds he hoped were words, his hands up in surrender. He tripped and fell over the display of the vendor beside the food stall, bring more shouts and waving arms. He was grabbed by the two men and dragged into the alley where they set upon him with fists and feet, shouting unintelligibly as he simply tried to protect his head. From the other end of the alley came the sound of a zither chord being struck, hard, followed by shouts as the men beating him were sent flying. He lay on the ground, trembling, his vision blurring again. Something swam into view, a face, he could see the mouth moving. I know that face... Blinking, he reached out his bandaged hand to the one before him, but barely touching that face before his strength failed him and his arm dropped back down. "Wei Ying...? Wei Ying!" The words suddenly came to him clearly and he sighed, a tiny smile curling his lips. Yes. Yes, that's my name. I'm Wei Ying. I remember now. Hands were on him, lifting him and he gasped as new pain settled over his old pain. The hands gentled, but still lifted him firmly, carrying him away. His vision danced and his mind floated in and out, but he clung to the other, fresh blood dripping from him, his clothing further torn and tattered. He was a wreck, probably a terrifying mess, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. His mind floated away again. Coming to, he felt something warm and wet against his cheek, jerking away from it involuntarily, grunting softly. "Wei Ying. Be still." The voice, low, deep, comforting, settled him and he leaned into the feeling when it came again. It took a while, but he got his eyes open and the face leaning over him slowly came into focus. I know you. I know you. Don't I? I feel like... But his head swam and he bit back another groan, feeling like it would further upset the man who was currently tending his wounds. If the other guy's expression was any indication, he was plenty upset already. Reaching up a shaky hand, he took a weak hold of the other's wrist, stopping his motions. Blinking a few times, he stared up at him, concentrating as hard as he could, knowing he knew who this was, desperate to remember. "La..." he tried, though it felt like he was choking on his tongue. "Lan... Lan Zha... n..." He frowned, knowing he could say it, he'd been speaking in his own head all day. "Lan... Zhan..." "Yes," came that voice again, though it was flooded with relief now. "Wei Ying, it's me." "Lan... Zhan." Wei Ying gave a weak nod, smiling faintly. "I... I know you... I... but I..." "Don't speak. Rest." Lan Zhan carefully removed his wrist from Wei Ying's hold, leaning aside to rinse his cloth so he could continue to clean the other's face. "We'll speak of all of this later." Wei Ying closed his eyes again, feeling exhaustion and pain pulling him down. Lan Zhan's hands were gentle and he felt safe here with him. He let himself fall into a deep sleep, unaware that Lan Zhan, against all of his levels of propriety, removed the tattered remains of his clothing to clean the rest of him. He missed the hard look that crossed the other's face at the cuts and bruises that covered him, most certainly older than the beating he'd just taken. He carefully redressed him in clean pants and a soft shirt, then left him to sleep. He sat himself at the low table with his zither, playing the Song of Clarity, both for himself and for Wei Ying. Something was definitely wrong, but he would have to wait to find out when Wei Ying was ready. *** There was screaming again, but it wasn't the kind he'd been dreaming of before. Where that had been his own voice echoing off of mountains, he now realized, what he was hearing now was a cacophony of voices screaming out in agony, terror, desperation, and some laughing madly all around him. He curled in on himself, his face soaked with tears as unseen hands reached out for him, clawing at him, trying to rip him to shreds, screaming and wailing in his ears, in his head. Please. Please stop!

Please, let me go! The screams grew in pitch and volume, as if the number of unseen souls had doubled, then quadrupled. I don't want to die like this! Laughter now, and he recognized it as his own, so very close but not coming from his own lips. "But this is how you'll die," he heard his own voice whisper in his ear, inside his head as well as from by his side. *You are weak. You are nothing. I will do what must be done. You just lay here and die." No... no! What are you saying? What are you doing? The laughter faded, but the screams did not, the tearing hands now claws that were tearing and scratching and rending his flesh... Wei Ying jerked awake with a yell, bolting upright in the bed, straight into Lan Zhan's hands. Tears spilled from his eyes as his hands gripped pure white robes in a white-knuckled grip, staring into Lan Zhan's eyes desperately. "Lan... Lan Zhan..." he panted. "Wha... what ha-ha... have I... done?"

[darkesttimelinestuff]

Summer of Love

My submission (as a sub) for the X-Files Alternate Universe Fanfic Exchange (2021) is now on Ao3!

For @greekowl87

Chapter 1

San Francisco, CA

July 21, 1967

3:08pm

It was a summer of change and upheaval and Agent Mulder stood on the corner of Haight and Ashbury. The hilly San Francisco district had become the center of the counterculture movement, with musicians and artists lining the streets just outside their apartments. The 1950s Beat generation had sought out the quaint and cheap housing of the underpopulated district, and by the 1960s, the anti-establishment movement had grown and morphed with the rise of the Vietnam War.

Mulder stood in awe of the color that surrounded him. Reds and yellows, greens and blues swirled like a life-sized tie-dye shirt. It was a stark contrast to the shades of grey and black that roamed the streets of Washington D.C. Life was teeming, and everyone seemed friendly, or at the very least accepting, of everyone else.

As Mulder admired a young woman skating by on roller skates, her long brown hair blowing behind her, his thoughts were interrupted.

“What are we doing here, Agent Mulder?” Agent Doggett’s gruff voice came from beside him.

Doggett’s patience was wearing thin and they’d only just arrived in the Golden City. He knew damn well they were searching for a murderer.

Mulder had gone to their subterranean office Monday morning, wound up with too much caffeine and not enough food in his stomach. He’d been up half the night studying their potential new case: a man who liked to abduct women and hack them up. Not all the victims’ body parts were found, but Mulder had noticed a clear pattern surrounding the killings, a possible motive that transcended purely killing for pleasure. There was premeditation, and Mulder was certain that all the killings were connected to a single killer.

“Staking out the place,” Mulder replied, his eyes searching up and down the sidewalk for a potential starting place. All the bodies had been found in the Haight-Ashbury District, likely by someone familiar with the area.

“The entire neighborhood?”

“Fine,” Mulder relented, “we’ll get a feel for the area. Let’s see what connections we can make. You never know where one person might lead us.”

The sun beat down on the suit-clad agents and Doggett took a long sip of his coffee, turning his head to a mob of people crossing the street together. “We stick out like a sore thumb.”

Doggett had reluctantly agreed to fly out west with Mulder to investigate the mass murders - four women so far - and hopefully apprehend the sick bastard leaving dead hippies carefully posed near dumpsters and in back alleys. Mulder was grateful for the help and the backup.

“It’s all happening here,” Mulder had insisted, arms spread, gesturing to the cityscape before them. “Every single one of those bodies was left within a quarter mile radius on this cross street. He lives here. He picks these women at rallies or in bars, courts them, earns their trust, and then takes them back to his house to seduce and then kill them. Of that, I am certain.”

“And we’re sure they weren’t raped?” Doggett asked.

Shaking his head, Mulder replied, “There is no indication of rape from the evidence. The women had sex willingly. It’s only after the seduction and intercourse that the women were murdered.”

“Alright, Mulder,” Doggett said, “but the one thing I don’t understand is why these women are all dolled up. Too much makeup for the so-called hippies.”

“I’m not sure why yet. Something in the way this sicko operates, playing out fantasies maybe.”

“I sure hope you’re right about this, Mulder.”

“Me too,” Mulder replied, a stone sitting heavy in his gut at the thought of all the cut-up bodies.

Mulder had presented the senior agent with plane tickets and that is how they had ended up in San Francisco chasing down a murderer at the height of the Summer of Love.

Both men hoped Mulder’s hunch would lead them to their suspect and not on some wild hippie chase.

“There.” Mulder said, pointing in the direction where a large group of people, mostly hippies, were making their way to a gathering. Cheers erupted as a guitar strummed. “Looks like we found ourselves at a peace rally.”

Doggett acknowledged this with a curt nod and the two men made their way across the street, weaving their way around people, to the very center of the crowd. A shirtless man with stringy hair played guitar, singing about peace, love, and acceptance.

The song ended and the man tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear.

“Let’s all have a moment of silence for our fallen heroes,” he said, bowing his head.

“This is so damn touching,” Doggett sarcastically muttered to Mulder, who could not suppress a grimace. These young kids had lost fathers and brothers, and even sisters, to the war. But Doggett was not wrong. Optimistic crowds could sing about peace, but little would improve without extreme policy change. The United States was too invested in the war, had too much at stake.

The crowd collectively bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Some placed their hands over their hearts; a quiet fell upon the street.

“Do you see any possible suspicious people?” Mulder whispered.

He and Doggett took the opportunity to scan up and down the street. People had gathered not just along the sidewalk, but spilled into the street, blocking the road. No one seemed to mind, though, and the peace rally continued to grow in size.

Through the sea of bent heads, a woman caught Mulder’s eye. She was rather small - he would not have noticed her had it not been for the bent heads  - with a halo of red hair among the brown and blonde. But that wasn’t what stood out to him. Those blue eyes, clear as a summer’s day, were not closed in a silent prayer but looking right at him. She ducked her head when she noticed him.

“Thank you,” the singer broke through the silence.“That was truly groovy. I felt all of your love coursing through me. I’m sure that our fallen brothers felt it too.”

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Doggett said. “We’re not gonna find him now. We’re looking for a hippie in a haystack.”

The crowd swayed in unison as music resumed playing, and the two agents, frustrated that their suspect didn’t jump up and present himself, pushed their way through the masses. As they neared the end of the mess of people, an older, long-haired, scraggly man grabbed Mulder’s arm.

“The end is nigh! You have to believe!” he yelled in the agent’s face.

“I want to believe,” Mulder returned, not unkindly, while attempting to pull his arm away. The man was clearly down on his luck.

But the vagrant pulled Mulder in closer. He smelled of booze and body odor.

“NO!” he howled. “Trust no one!” Then turning to the crowd, he yelled, “Look at this one! He’s one of them! He’s the Man!”

The two agents felt the eyes of all the crowd turn and stare at them as they were singled out. Some booed and hissed at them.

But from the throng came a voice over the microphone announcing, “Friends! Brothers and sisters! ALL are welcome.” People whooped and hollered back, others clapped at the call for acceptance.

Mulder tried harder to extricate himself. The bearded man had surprising strength and put up quite a fight, resulting in a tug of war with Mulder’s arm. Eventually, Doggett came to the rescue, gripping the assailant’s fingers and prying them off of his partner’s arm. Backward inertia from the opposing pulls forced Mulder to suddenly fall onto some of the rally attendees.

High-pitched screams came from beneath him. Mulder struggled awkwardly as he realized at least a couple of women had broken his fall. He winced as his head collided with something and very suddenly realized that Doggett’s firm grip pulled him to his feet. He immediately turned to offer his sincerest apologies. They had not intended to call attention to themselves so publicly.

As Mulder brushed himself off, he recognized the face of one of the women - the redhead with the piercing eyes. They were even more magnificent up close and he momentarily lost the ability to form words at his surprise, instead offering his hand, which she accepted.

Meanwhile, Doggett had offered the two other women - a tall brunette with a sharp face, and a lovely redhead with long wavy hair and kind eyes - his help, ensuring everyone’s safety and well being.

“Our apologies, everyone,” offered Doggett. “My friend here has a knack for getting himself into trouble. I hope nobody is hurt.”

“Yes, sorry,” Mulder chimed in, remembering his manners, his eyes glued to the smaller of the redheads.

She held out her hand to him and gave him a genuinely warm smile. “I’m Dana Scully.”

@today-in-fic

[minkmousesworld]

Hi! I was scrolling through your blog and oh mah lord its amazing 🥺. May I request a forest!au raccoon dog!Tanjiro x snow leopard!reader where the reader is injured, crying and shaking and Tanjiro is trying to calm them down? It's Oki if you can't! I hope you're staying safe and hydrated! Also, don't forget to take breaks bby 🤍

- 🌌

hello, honeymouse♡ thank you for your request! I wasn't sure exactly how you wanted it done, so I left it to my choice. I hope you like it! thank you so much for being so sweet. don't forget to rest and drink water♡

⌞ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ⌝

𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢: forest au

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: UST, comforting, mention of blood (wounds), mention of panic, mention of escape

𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰): raccoon dog! Tanjirou Kamado x snow leopard! Reader

writer's note: as I was advised, after I completed the request, I fell asleep... and recently I woke up because of the alarm clock, which I put on "just in case". and I realized that I didn't publish. ouch. also! it's so cute when you use au names(´ ω `♡)

Winter.

In your home, in the mountains, it was almost always winter. Pure snow lay on the mountains, untouched by the hot sun or the footprints of others; except that mountain goats and other snow leopards touched it. And you were comfortable with such a neighborhood.

Down below, it was different. Even the air here wasn't as clean, but it was easier to breathe in. You'd even enjoy it.

If only your lungs weren't burning from running for so long.

When you stepped on the fresh snow with your broad paws, you left shallow, bloody footprints, which the snowfall immediately covered up, covering your tracks. It was hard to move, every step was like stepping on sharp stones, but you tried to get as far away as possible, limping and gasping for breath.

Even if you had no idea where this road would lead you.

The wind began to howl even rougher, driving you forward in icy gusts. The blood flowed more slowly, took on a maroon color and froze on you in thin lines. Even the thick fur didn't help with the cold, which was chilling to the bone.

It seemed that with each breath of frosty, dead air, everything inside you cooled and froze. Trapped in the forest, you had no idea where to go to find shelter.

Running away from one death led you to another. You tried to wipe away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and prevented you from seeing further.

Too much stress.

You snuggled up against the tree and buried your nose in the bark, catching your breath. Memories of the past flashed slowly before your eyes, as if frozen. The moment when you were born, when you lived in a cave; when your mother first took you on a Groundhog hunt; when she said that "a good Snow leopard always knows their snow, and a bad Snow leopard dies in the mud".

When she left and you were alone, surrounded by snow and caves. It wasn't something painful, although at first it was unusual to realize that the only reason you might want to see other snow leopards is "mating season". But soon moving forward, finding a cave to sleep in, and getting food was all you cared about.

While the inhabitants of the forest built burrows, formed pairs and hid from the rains and snows, you ran around the mountains, balanced between cliffs and killed future food, sometimes breaking down from the mountains with prey in your teeth, just to make sure that you would have food.

Until They came.

Wrapping a long tail around your leg, you tried to hide from the wind behind a thick trunk with the last of your strength. They smelled of blood and dead things, and you were running faster than you knew what was happening. That alone saved your life.

"Strangers always bring trouble" — that's what your mother told you. She was a very wise snow leopard. [If you had the strength left, you would hope that They didn't reach her, she deserved more].

You put your arms around your shoulders, hugged your knees to your chest, and hid your face in them. The wind will soon stop, and you will be able to find food for yourself. Then go back... there will be no strangers there. You hope for this and that you will find your way back.

Your eyes were uncomfortably close from crying, and your cheeks ached from the cold. It was morning by your biological clock, the time when it was time for you to fall asleep in a cave, tucked into a strategically advantageous corner.

Your head was spinning — from the other air, from the cold, or from fear, you didn't know. The body that had carried you forward on pure fear and lust for life was now a weak meat that needed to rest. Perhaps a little sleep will help you feel better ... Thick fur will protect you from frostbite, frozen wounds from the cold will not disturb.

The wind became weaker. You were sure that by the time you woke up, there would be no wind at all, or it would be very weak. The spirits of the Mountains are merciful to those who need their mercy.

But you couldn't rest.

The smell (pleasant, tart, a stranger) suddenly came up to you. Following the smell, you heard the soft rasp of snow. Something was creeping up on you.

They. They found you.

You didn't understand when you abruptly got to your feet, one paw gripping the trunk of a tree to keep from falling, and when your body became so weak that the sudden rise made you dizzy. It wasn't important.

Your entire body was focused on the outsider, who, meanwhile, was in no hurry to come out of hiding. It was sitting in a thicket of thin branches, and at first you thought you were imagining it.

Before something jerked their ear and you froze in horror. Your throat is parched from the cold; even if you could speak, what would you do? Purred?

Your fingers ached, and you knew that with claws as broken as yours, you would rather catch on to this creature than scratch it. Run away? But where? What if it gets you faster?

Meanwhile, the creature twitched its ear again and... crawled out. It looked a little like a gopher: round, small ears; intelligent, curious eyes. Only the color of this creature was dark, which made it perfectly hide in the bushes and near the trees, but it looked like a bright spot against the background of snow.

When it came out of hiding, looking timidly at you, you didn't move.

It (he? she? the creature looked androgynous, and you didn't understand what gender it was) looked defenseless and tiny, like a weak herbivore that was attracted by an unfamiliar smell. So it wasn't a threat.

Herbivores do not attack without provocation.

But it began to come closer, coming too aggressively fast in front of the bushes.

"Shhh...", the creature stretched out its arms, "it's fine…"

And you staggered back in horror and fell to the snow. The creature paused, letting you catch your breath a few times before starting to get closer. Tears began to gather in his eyes again, making the creature blurry.

But you didn't even try to wipe away the tears.

"Don't cry... It's okay… Don't be afraid of me…"

The creature stretched out its arms. Checkered clothes, hair in a short ponytail, short stature. If you run now, it might catch up. Better to bite. Poor view to aim at the neck.

Even if the review was good, you wouldn't jump at it. Just running.

But it seems to have understood your intentions.

"Wait! I really---"

You immediately rushed back, but fell due to weakness in your hands.

The tears began to gather in her eyes even faster. Your chest ached even more, and you couldn't stand it anymore, sobbing, shaking, trying to crawl as far away as possible. Your body ached for pain and resentment, for your weakness, but your mind screamed that it would devour you, strangers bring only trouble.

The creature stopped. Then it reached into the bag (which, it turns out, was behind its back), and took out something.

Meat.

"You must be hungry," it said softly. "I just want to feed you. Will you let me?"

You couldn't take your eyes off the meat. Not yet frozen, large… you were sure you could smell it. Your body began to whine about hunger, your mind was silent.

"Here, food… I'll just come over to give, okay? I'll leave right away"

The creature crouched, became even smaller and more defenseless, and slowly began to come closer. When it was at the minimum safe distance, it carefully threw a piece of meat closer to you. And then it went away, as promised; timidly (I think, even with regret) looked at you and... went behind the bushes.

And you were left alone. The meat was softer than you thought, but a little bitter. Maybe it was a little rude to chase the creature away like that. On the other hand, what if it was afraid of your reaction and therefore ran away? You just wanted to protect yourself.

With such thoughts, having been sated and warmed, you fell asleep. And even the wounds seemed to hurt less.

◇◇◇

You didn't know what you were dreaming about. The dreams were vague and frightening, and you couldn't get out of them. The images became more eerie and bloody, the sounds grew louder and higher, and you felt trapped.

The only thing that calmed you down was the gentle melody you heard when things got particularly creepy. It was as if there was no escape. Like everything was fine.

The spirits of the Mountains are merciful to those who endure all trials with fortitude, and send their helpers. Sometimes, in your dreams, that creature appeared — with a gentle smile, which said that everything was fine.

And you believed it.

And then they fell back into oblivion.

◇◇◇

You woke up in a warm place.

Earthy air and little light... it was a hole. And you would have rushed up to find the owner and find out what you were doing here, but your body was too weak and your mind was too exhausted. You took a deep breath and looked up. Definitely a hole.

"Good morning", you heard a gentle whisper nearby. "Are you feeling better?"

And after a couple of seconds, next to you sat... a creature.

There was silence. He (up close you could see that it was a rather cute boy) looked you over tenaciously before he began his monologue again:

"You had serious injuries, so I brought you to my house", he raised his head, looking around as if for the first time, "do you like it? Not as cozy as my family's burrow, but after I became an adult, I tried to recreate the same atmosphere at home..."

The boy turned to you with a sunny smile.

"My name is Tanjirou. I am one of the raccoon dogs, Kie's son. You probably haven't heard of me… But I'm still happy to see new residents in the forest! It is sometimes quite lonely here, especially during heavy snows. It's a great stroke of luck that I managed to find you! You're so inconspicuous in the snow!"

Tanjirou paused, looking at you. You only nodded weakly, supporting the monologue.

"You're not from around here, are you? From somewhere in the mountains? I... ", the boy suddenly fell silent.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter where you're from, I'm glad to see you anyway! You can stay with me as long as you want, but I won't let you leave until your body is healed! It's important to take care of yourself, you know? And take care of each other too! We're all friends!"

He looked at you kindly again.

"You're lucky you were able to come down. When I saw you, your wounds were monstrous… You're very strong… Is that what I was talking about? Oh, yes! In the forest…"

And under his quiet, lulling voice, talking about all sorts of nonsense, you involuntarily fell asleep. Only at the edge of consciousness did you feel a light, soft kiss on the forehead, and a quiet "sweet dreams" before falling asleep.

◇◇◇

Tanjirou kept his promise and nursed you for a long time until you looked like a healthy snow leopard.

He constantly brought you food and water; changed your bandages and smeared your wounds with medicinal herbs; helped you warm up your muscles when you were finally able to get out of bed on your own. He massaged your shoulders and didn't ask what happened. During bouts of fever, he brought down the temperature, sometimes sat with you at night and gently held your hand, even if you convinced him that you could handle it yourself!

Tanjirou just shook his head, refusing, and did not move away.

◇◇◇

"The season of flowers is here", Tanjirou once told you, as you were doing muscle exercises, preparing to get completely out of his care. "The snows are gone. You?.."

You gave him a curious look.

Tanjirou hesitated uncomfortably and looked away.

"Recently… I mean, you don't look like that anymore...", Tanjirou took a deep breath, and continued quietly: "I mean… Are you planning on leaving?"

You didn't even have to turn your heads to know which face he asked it with.

Sometimes Tanjirou looked like a real puppy.

[yelenasdog]

my girlfriend is a witch (spencer reid x witchy! fem reader)

INSPIRED BY THE SONG “My Girlfriend Is a Witch” BY October Country

genre: fluff w like maybe two seconds of angst

summary: he could feel she was hiding something, but she didn’t mean for him to find out like this.

words: 2.6k 

warnings: i cannot think of any for the life of me other than crying. also, disclaimer at the end of fic.

a/n: pls listen to “my girlfriend is a witch” by october country and “john barleycorn (must die)” by traffic, while u read. i’ve been meaning to get this fic out for ages, so i hope this is good! enjoy lovies!

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

It was hot, humid, and sticky under the Malibu sun.

Rubber soles from both boots and sandals alike, most likely the cheap ones you can buy at any tourist-targeted shops surrounding the vacationer heavy area, stuck to the asphalt streets, leaving a sticky tar in its wake.

SSA Y/n Y/l/n was not a fan, to put it lightly.

Her arm hung limp against her forehead as she leaned back against the black leather seats of the car she resided in, the material burning her bare arms. Literally.

And even if she were to be exaggerating, she still strongly felt that welts would be left where she had placed her limb for far too long.

She long ago had abandoned her blazer in the backseat of her vehicle due to the excruciating heat, the cotton material feeling heavy on her arms, so she turned up the AC with one hand, while slicking back the baby hairs that had managed to fall onto her forehead with the other. It was graced with beads of sickly sweat, not unlike the rest of her body.

Some repetitive song played on the stereo that she couldn’t quite figure out how to operate in the outdated FBI issued vehicle she was using, adding to her annoyance of what seemed to be to no end. 

The unfortunate ride was the result of her normal vehicle being in the shop, and rather than pay for a rental, she took whatever was left in the garage, however horrible it may be.

After sitting in hours of tiresome traffic, enduring the aforementioned reptititive song, and the entire John Barleycorn Must Die album later, (hey, it was in the glovebox, and it beat whatever had been on the radio) she finally had arrived at her destination.

She stepped out of the car, huffing at the sight in front of her. She took her black RayBans off, sliding them into her pocket of her slacks before slamming the silver door. Y/n then winced at the cracking sound that rang out. She walked forward, not wanting to look at the damage she had caused.

“That’s coming out of my paycheck.” She muttered, chewing on her chapped bottom lip, feeling the sting shoot through her nerves.

The door to the PD office she had been approaching swung open by a very frustrated officer. He breezed past her and she leaned back, placing a hand onto the warm concrete of the establishment behind her. She barely was missed by him in all his rage.

Y/l/n squinted her eyes, the rays of light clouding her vision. She began to regret taking her glasses off earlier, but disregarded the thought and continued into brick building.

The first person that she saw when she entered was the local sheriff. He was medium build, bald, and there was a bright grin that covered his face, far too bright for the current atmosphere, in her humble opinion.

“Ah, Agent, It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She reached forward offering a self-manicured hand, still slightly sweaty from the car ride.

“Pleasure’s all mine. So,” she began, walking over to where the rest of the team was examining what seemed to be a yellowed piece of parchment.

“What are we looking at?” She questioned, doing her best to get a look at whatever it was at the center of attention.

Almost like clockwork, or perhaps like a dog who was able to sense their favorite person arriving home, Spencer appeared from the back of the precinct, coffees in hand. 

He passed the one is his right hand to his girlfriend, leaning forward for a kiss on the cheek that Y/n had almost ignored. She rolled her eyes at the needy man, muttering “thank you, Spencer” In a sarcastic tone, placing a quick peck on his cheek. He pouted, and she rolled her eyes once more.

As she walked forward and took a sip of the hot drink, the rest of the BAU parted, allowing her to observe the sheet. After looking at it for a few moments, she spoke up, her words overlapping with Hotch’s.

“We have no idea what it is, Penelope did a search and couldn’t find anything of use, it doesn’t translate to anything-“

“These are runes and glyphs. Horribly written, not by someone who’s an expert in the craft. The corner of the page looks like there’s-“ she paused, leaning forward. Her eyes slimmed, scanning over the page, the necklace around her neck dangled, catching Spencer’s eye.

“Yeah, this looks like a sigil. If you give me some time I could try to work out what it was for.”

She looked up, meeting the confused glancing of everyone, including her boyfriend. Prentiss was the next to speak, albeit very cautiously.

“Alright, well, do you have any ideas about what the other symbols mean?”

“Off of the top of my head?” She turned towards the paper once more, “To reiterate, this person mixed multiple different kinds of glyphs, so it might be difficult to collectively translate them, but so far I’m getting life, death-“

“Very original of them.” Morgan joked, resulting in a smile and the signature eye roll of Y/n.

“Power, fear, balance. That’s the first line.”

“Reid, are you writing that down?” Aaron questioned. Spencer nodded, not even looking up from his clipboard where he was writing the info. “Y/n, continue.”

She bobbed her head once, bringing her attention back to the 2nd line. She was silent for a bit, at one point grabbing around for a sticky note and pen. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she was carefully handed one by a reluctant Spence. 

Everyone watched in amazement, amusement, and a little bit of confusion, as she wrote on the paper, scribbling what looked like nonsense next to some dates. After what seemed like hours (but was really just minutes) she pulled away, looking towards her significant other.

“When were all the victims killed?”

“September 29th, November 6th, November 9th, and that’s it.”

“And how did each of the victims thus far die?”

Hotch cut in, his arms crossed and his glance careful. “How are you certain there will be more killings?”

She ignored him, turning to Reid.

“Reid, how did they die?”

“First victim, stab wound, 2nd victim drowned, 3rd victim-“

“Burned alive?”

As this was the first time she had been made aware of the case (she had been attending to other business back in Quantico and had to fly commercial with no wifi, meaning no access to Penny to catch her up), her knowledge bewildered them greatly.

Seeing their concern spread on their faces, she picked up the photocopy, bringing it to where they were huddled. She stood in the center, pinky pointing and following along with what she was speaking of.

“This symbol here,” she pointed, making sure she held everyone’s attention”, is a rune for “New Moon”.  She then went on to describe how each of the days correspond with the Moon phases, as well as the matching rune and glyphs left on the page.

“I still don’t understand how that explains more killings?” Spencer spoke, his usual high IQ seemingly not working, a problem he had whenever he was around his beloved.

She walked over to him and smiled, shaking her head. She then explained the rest of the runes in detail, how they each had a meaning that applied to the way they were killed, and how there was still one more moon phase left and one more element as well.

The pair was separated once more as Spencer nodded in understanding, his mouth left agape. She admired him for a brief moment, the way his eyes were like large stones of sparkling tiger eye, his lips the color of a rose. 

Interrupting her, Hotch pulled her into a meeting room where Morgan was already waiting. Spencer stared, following her movements.

“Spence? Let’s go work on the geographical profile?” Emily asked, already on her way. He nodded, slanting his eyes briefly through the blinds of the glass. He blinked a few times, feeling like grains of sand had sunk to his waterline. He shook his head like a wet dog, ridding blooming thoughts from his mind, then continuing on from where he stood, doing his best to turn his focus elsewhere completely.

Meanwhile, Hotch was questioning her, Y/n’s knowledge about how the runes and glyphs themselves were written coming in handy for what that meant about the unsub, as well as building a profile. She was surprisingly educated on the subject, which the unit chief had decided to ignore all together, staying focused on the case. 

By the end of the work day, the profile was ready to be delivered, she had figured out the presumably intended use of the sigil, and the geographic profile was nearly finished. 

Satisfied with the day's work, she happily bid her goodbyes and exited the horribly boring meeting room, finding Spencer waiting by the door, coffee still in hand. He looked around the area, his eyes wandering over the portraits that hung on the walls of former officers.

“Spence, you ready?” She quipped, taking the coffee out of his hand and taking a sip. Spencer huffed, taking it back from her and throwing it away, no longer craving the warm beverage once it had touched her lips.

Spencer nodded, wrapping a hand around her waist and starting the long walk to the SUV from the building. They were quiet for most of the miniature journey, listening to the chirps of the cicadas, and the hot summer wind blowing in the branches of the palm trees. Y/n hummed quietly, finding herself in a peaceful state as she walked along with Spencer.

Spencer, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. His mind was running, trying to process the day’s happenings. 

As maybe it was the obsidian that hung around her neck on a sterling silver chain, or perhaps the selenite she kept on her desk and the amethyst she made Penny keep in her batcave, claiming they were “just very pretty!”

It could have been the way she was seemingly always busy on full moons, or even the peculiar deck of “playing cards” that she keeps in her 2nd drawer of her desk, pushed far to the left.

Not to mention the jars of seemingly normal water that he wasn’t allowed to drink from or empty, and the odd combinations of what seemed to be shapes and letters that she had stitched on the inside of Spencer’s satchel (it took quite the convincing, but to her it was seemingly important, so he allowed it reluctantly).

Possibly most convincing of all was the events of the day, her enlightenment on the subjects at hand leaving an uneasiness in the genius’ stomach.

Spencer wasn’t sure how he couldn’t have figured it out sooner.

His girlfriend was a witch.

The realization made him stop suddenly in his tracks, causing her to briefly trip over her own feet. She gave him a conflicted look, concern also present within the glance.

“Spencer? What’s wrong, are you alright?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, whatever he had to say not completely ready to be put out in the world. He simply made a line with his lips before continuing on, leaving her where she stood. She cocked her head, confused noises leaving her throat. 

She jogged to catch up with the man, his long legs making him walk awfully fast. Usually, Spencer would slow down so she could walk beside him in harmony, occasionally holding hands. But as of now, she was struggling to stay in pace with him, and she was beginning to feel fairly annoyed.

“Spencer Walter Reid! What is going on!?”

He looked behind his shoulder, only slowing his pace rather than coming to a complete stop. She managed to fall back into step with him, her gaze never leaving his form.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her tongue, then ran it over her front teeth unaware of what he was referring to. “Tell you what, Reid?”

He shook his head, once more allowing his lips to turn into a straight line, slightly puffing up at his cupid's bow. “You know, about being a witch, or whatever.” He was much quieter when saying the second part of the sentence, his voice quite low.

The statement had shocked Y/n to some degree, but she kept walking, still trying to stay in step with the doctor. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about this, if she should lie and tell him he was being silly, if she should come clean about her “hobbies”. She simply didn’t know.

She decided to just not speak until much later. 

It was after the car ride with the rest of the team (which was quite awkward, considering they could tell something was off between the two lovers), and after they both had eaten and showered before getting ready for bed. Y/n was sitting on one twin sized bed, while Spencer was sitting on the other, reading something from his laptop, which was very unlike him.

Y/n on the other hand couldn’t keep her mind off of the question he had asked earlier. I mean, she had an answer, that much was true. But if she wanted to give it to him, she could not bear to decide. She was staring at the cheesy hotel art on the beige wall, heat still radiating in from the open window that was cracked in the first place to combat the lack of AC.

Her gaze never faltered from the painting of the vase of flowers, the colors seemingly muted. She began to speak, slowly, cautiously.

“I didn’t tell you, because I honestly didn’t think you would care. I mean, maybe you would, but I thought that your whole science thing would make you think I was nuts…” She shook her head, looking to the ceiling. She could feel her boyfriend burning holes into the side of her head, staring.

“Although there’s plenty of science to back it up, and even if there wasn’t, science accepts or rejects ideas based on the evidence; it doesn’t-”

“-Prove or disprove them.”

She looked over and met Spencer’s sad hazel eyes, suddenly feeling very, very guilty.

His voice was quiet as a mouse, he was unable to keep eye contact for long, feeling the need to turn away.

“Metaphysics is an interesting form of philosophy that i’ve done a fair amount of research on, and the CIA has done extensive research on astral projection among other things widely considered to be nonsense phenomena, discarded by most otherwise.”

Her heart sunk and sang all at once, an inexplicable emotion rising like the tide, all the way up to her eyes, a tear slipping out and rolling down her cheek.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I would have listened, Y/n. I still will, if you care to tell me about it.” 

She looked up from the beige comforters of the motel room bed, feeling an almost magnetic pull tugging her towards Spencer. So she stood and he opened his arms, allowing her to find comfort in his embrace.

“I’m sorry Spence.”

“It’s alright, I just want you to know how much you mean to me, Y/n/n. I will respect and handle anything and everything you throw my way, okay? Nothing could change how much I love you.”

She nodded, a muffled “okay” leaving her lips. He chuckled, pulling her closer. They stayed in that position for some time, savouring each other’s warmth. After she collected herself, feeling rejuvenated, she pulled away, a bright grin creeping its way onto her features.

“So,” she smirked, Spencer raised an unruly brow. 

“Where do you wanna start?”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

kinda hate it ngl. but i hope someone out there enjoyed it. for sure not my best writing and it’s a bit confusing but whatever.

DISCLAIMER: my mother and i both regularly participate in metaphysical practices, such as tarot, oracle, the usage of incense and crystals, sigils, spirit guide communication, etc. as well as several practices drawn from hinduism but regularly (and wrongly) culturally appropriated by the west, (chakras, manifestation) while also identifying with and following the methodist faith. i understand and appreciate the origins of it within hinduism, and this is in no way meant to offend anyone whatsoever and is simply for entertainment purposes. no closed practices should be participated in unless invited or born into said practice, and none have been, nor will be. (:

(also ty to roo for educating me on hinduism and how it’s been morphed and appropriated by the west, mwah ur the best)

 love u, xx hj

[marchtomydrums]

In the beginning 12

Alex Cabot X Casey Novak X Reader

Rated M

Casey’s POV:

I’m sitting in my office going over some files when you come storming in slamming the door behind you. The sudden noise caused me to jump as I look up to see your face red as a tomato.

“Ughh! I can’t stand that girl!” You huff slamming yourself down in the chair in front of my desk.

“What girl?” I asked confused for a moment trying to keep up.

“Emma.” You say rolling your eyes. I snort shaking my head at you.

“Yeah that girl is a piece of work.”

“She literally talks about Alex all day long. I told her that y’all were together weeks ago. It’s like she doesn’t even care.”

“Alex is so pretty. Alex is so hot. I bet she’s wild in bed. All that aggression has to come out somewhere. Blah. Blah. Blah.” I laugh watching you mock Emma.

“I’m going to punch this bitch in her face Casey I mean it!” I laugh out loud at that one knowing damn well you would.

“Well before we do that. Let’s talk to Alex about it and see what she says.” I say trying to convince you to let it go for now. You roll your eyes at me.

“Alex is oblivious. It’s like she doesn’t know she’s stupid hot and everyone wants to fuck her!”

“Yeah it’s really annoying isn’t it.” I smirk.

“Casey!” You whine. I smile moving out of my chair to sit on the desk in front of you.

“Honey, Alex loves us. She would never do something to hurt us like that. Emma clearly has a crush and Alex needs to set boundaries with her. As for what she’s saying I’ll gladly let her know that it is highly inappropriate to talk about her boss in such manner.”

You laugh “yeah meanwhile I’m fucking said boss.”

I laugh with you nodding my head.

“Yeah it seems that we are the chosen ones my dear.”

That makes you smile and I’m happy that your mood seems to shift.

“We will talk to Alex about it tonight okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh. I pull you up out of the chair causing a shriek followed by giggles as I pull you in closer for a kiss.

“I love you.” I whispered against your lips. I can feel you smile as you speak “I love you too.”

“Alright, now go make nice with Malibu Barbie.” I chuckle as you head towards the door.

“Casey Novak ladies and gentlemen lawyer by day comedian by night.” You say before walking out the office. I shake my head laughing.

Later that night…

“You could of ruined this case Y/n do you get that?” Alex is screaming at you as you walk into our home. The yelling alerted me so I decided to walk into the living room to see what was going on.

“ I wasn’t trying too. I’m telling you this will work if you just give me a chance Alex!”

“No! This is my case and we’re doing things my way!”

“Seriously Alex! Maybe if we went with my idea in the first place we wouldn’t be here. Ever thought of that!”

The look on Alex’s face turns to stone and she towers over you. I pick this time to get into the middle of y’all.

“Okay, guys don’t we have a rule about not bringing work home?” I ask them.

“Ask Alex! She’s the boss remember.” You say as you glare Alex’s way.

“You’re absolutely right y/n I am the boss. And if you know what’s good for you you’ll do as I say.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Okay, guys what happened?” I asked still in the middle of you two.

“Alex never listens to me or even gives me a chance to be right. She completely dismissed me in the meeting and sided with Emma. “

“Your right I did side with Emma because she was right! You’re not a the level that we are and you better check your place. And this childish drama with Emma ends here! The nickname, the glares, the down right disrespect of your superior. It ends now.” Alex yells.

“Did you call me child?”

“Yes I did. And if you keep acting like one I’m going to treat you as such. I’ll replace you! Don’t try me!”

I watch your face drop at her words. “Alex!” I scream towards her way with a look of disbelief. I look back at you tears growing in your eyes. You take a steady breath before you speak. “That’s fine Alex. Do what you gotta do.” You take off upstairs my eyes never leaving your body until you disappeared.

I turn back to look at Alex who has walked off to grab a glass of wine. She’s leaning against the counter top as she sips her glass. I silently walk over to her in shock and ask “how dare you?”

“How dare I what? She’s being childish Casey. No legal team takes advice from an intern. She questioned me in front of my colleagues.”

“I don’t care what she did!” I spat cutting Alex’s speech off.

“That girl was already feeling insecure about Emma. That’s actually what we were going to talk to you about. Emma has a massive crush on you. She talks to y/n about it almost every day. See, y/n was kind enough to tell Emma that you were in a committed relationship with me. And guess what? Emma still didn’t care! I’ve watched y/n bite her tongue and hold her tears around that girl. Then here you come crushing her entirely. You could of explained to her about the meeting and your choices. However, you chose to play lawyer and hit her where it hurts. You were ruthless, crude, and cold to her. So I’ll ask you again how dare you?!” I stare at her tears flowing down my cheeks. Alex is left speechless, her blue eyes flowing like swimming pools at your words.

“I didn’t know. I..she didn’t tell me that this was happening.” Alex tells me stuttering her words.

“Of course you didn’t know Alex. You never do.” I huff out before I continue.

“But she was going to tell you tonight. We were going to have a nice conversation tell you what was going on and then talk about boundaries and strategies. Now wouldn’t that have been better than you verbally abusing her?” I asked sarcastically.

I call tell by the look on her face and the intake of breath she just had she is stunned at my words.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do this. Why I try to hurt the people I love the most.” Alex whispers.

“It’s because you’re scared those people will hurt you because you love them so much.”

“I’m sorry.” Alex sobs out. I round the counter to cradle her in my arms. I may be upset with her but I can’t bare to watch her breakdown. Alex has been through a lot and she’s been hurt a lot. She has come a long way in our relationship but she still has her faults. Alex has many layers to her you just have to be patient when peeling them back. I hold her while she’s sobs my own tears running down my face. I pull back cradling her face in my hands.

“Alexandra I love you with my whole heart. I would go to the ends of the earth for you. But this time you went to far and you were wrong. She didn’t deserve that and you know it.” I place a small kiss on her lips and head off into the home office. Leaving Alex there with her thoughts and emotions.

[thebakingqueen5]

KW 2021: Missing Scenes

Day 3 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt Missing Scenes!

This was arguably the most obvious way to go about this prompt but I wanted to write it anyways because if there’s one missing scene that should’ve been included in the series, it’s something to bridge the gap between EIP and Sozin’s Comet.

Links: AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Another year, another summer, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 3: Missing Scenes. Bridging the gap between the Ember Island Players and Sozin’s Comet Series Finale.

Word Count: 2.8K

It was another cool night on Ember Island. The moon was beginning to rise and was lighting up the corridors and central courtyard while the Gaang got some food to replenish themselves after a long day of training and preparations.

Sozin’s Comet was a mere few days away, and tensions were higher than ever. Earlier that day, the true plans of the Firelord had been revealed: that he was planning to use the comet to wipe out the Earth Kingdom entirely, which meant that Aang had to face him on the doomsday itself at the latest. It was a challenge he felt none too prepared for.

He thought that he was going to get more time to master his earth and firebending, but with this newest revelation, it was pretty clear this was not the case, and the stress was beginning to get to the young airbender.

The practice battle against Toph posing as the Melonlord had Aang’s stomach tied in knots. Before today, the final fight seemed so distant, almost inconceivable, something that he would only have to do when he was absolutely ready for it. But now? It was coming, and it was coming fast, and Aang had no idea how to handle it.

The boy hadn’t really thought about what he would do when he finally faced Ozai. He assumed that by the time he mastered all four elements, the solution would be obvious, but it wasn’t. Everyone else seemed convinced that killing him was the only option, but that went against everything Aang had been taught by the monks. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. How was he supposed to do something so drastic when he didn’t even believe in it? There had to be another way, something he was missing, there just had to be!

“I have a surprise for everyone!” Katara called as she walked into the clearing, immediately snapping Aang out of his intense thoughts. He briefly glanced up from the plate of food in front of him as everyone’s eyes turned to the crimson-clad waterbender, a rolled up tan scroll in her hands.

“I knew it!” Toph exclaimed. She grinned devilishly as she looked up from her wooden bowl of rice. “You did have a secret thing with Haru!”

Sokka, Suki, Zuko, and Katara all blinked at her in confusion and gave the blind earthbender a bewildered look, unsure of where her supposed epiphany came from.

“Uh…” the waterbender responded slowly as the others returned to their meals. “No. I was looking for cooking pots in the attic and I found this.”

She unfurled the parchment in her hands, making a slight swish noise.

“Look at baby Zuko,” she cooed. “Isn’t he cute?”

The paper in her hands was in fact a painting showing a happy, bright-eyed cherub of a baby laughing as he played on the beach. He looked to be quite young, having only a tiny topknot on his head and a mere two teeth in his small mouth while a tiny shovel and sandcastle lay on the ground next to him.

Everyone except for Zuko laughed and “aww”d at the adorable picture while the firebender stared at the others gravely.

“Oh, lighten up,” Katara admonished when she noticed his lack of response. “I’m just teasing.”

“That’s not me,” the firebender said, opening his eyes to look at her. “It’s my father.”

The Gaang looked on in shock as Katara rolled the scroll back up. They were all wondering the same thing- how could such a precious baby have become the most cruel man on the planet?

“But he looks so sweet and innocent,” Suki frowned, her voice faltering.

“Well, that sweet little kid grew up to be a monster,” Zuko spat. “And the worst father in the history of fathers.”

“But he’s still a human being.”

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice. Aang’s back was hunched over his tray of rice and beans a few feet away from them, and a deep frown rested on his normally cheery features.

“You’re going to defend him?” Zuko questioned.

“No,” Aang clarified. “I agree with you.”

“Firelord Ozai is a horrible person, and the world would probably be better off without him,” he said as he stood up and turned around to face them, “but there’s gotta be another way.”

“Like what?” Zuko deadpanned.

“I don’t know,” Aang shrugged. He turned his gaze down and away from the others, eyebrows tilted upwards in concentration, when an idea came to him.

“Maybe we can make some big pots of glue, and then I can use gluebending to stick his arms and legs together so he can’t bend anymore!” he said excitedly.

Zuko smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, then you can show him his baby pictures, and all those happy memories will make him good again.”

“Do you really think that would work?” Aang asked eagerly, oblivious to Sokka and Suki snickering behind the firebender.

“No!”

Aang sighed heavily and hung his head in defeat. He needed to find another solution, think out of the box somehow. He stared at the ground for a few moments in exasperation before hopping down the stone steps to pace under a hanging orange lamp in the courtyard.

“This goes against everything I learned from the monks,” he said, walking back and forth. “I can’t just go around wiping out people I don’t like!”

“Sure you can!” Sokka interjected from the sidelines. “You’re the Avatar! If it’s in the name of keeping balance I’m pretty sure the universe will forgive you.”

Aang’s arms and slumped upper body shook violently with rage.

“This isn’t a joke, Sokka!” he shouted. “None of you understand the position I’m in!”

How could they, after all? They hadn’t been at the Air Temples a century ago. They hadn’t been raised by the Nomads to be peaceful and treat every life as sacred. He was the last of his people, and somehow none of them could see that. To them it was the simplest decision in the world- just get it over with and save the world, but it wasn’t to Aang. It wasn’t as cut and dry as that.

“Aang, we do understand,” the waterbender frowned. “It’s just-”

“Just what, Katara? What?”

“We’re trying to help!” she said angrily, her temper also rising.

“Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it!”

Aang raised his arms in frustration with the last few words and stormed off in the direction of his room, feet stomping loudly against the stone floor.

“Aang, don’t walk away from this,” Katara began as she made a movement to follow him.

Zuko put a hand on her shoulder, and the waterbender faltered, turning towards him.

“Let him go,” he said quietly. “He needs time to sort it out by himself.”

The waterbender huffed in indignation and began walking towards her own room.

“I’m going to turn in early tonight,” she muttered, arms wrapped around her torso. “Good night, guys.”

“Good night,” the rest of them mumbled back, all but Zuko turning their attention back to dinner. The firebender scrutinized her receding figure as Katara turned the corner and went down the left hall to her room. He knew she was likely going to talk with him anyways that night, but the least he could do was make sure she gave the airbender enough space to cool down.

After a few minutes of glaring at the corridor, Zuko turned back to the ragtag team of misfits and their lively voices. Though he had been traveling with Team Avatar for some time now, the way they managed to turn the subject of conversation to the Earth King’s bear Bosco in such a short amount of time would forever be a mystery to him, but nevertheless he listened attentively and heard from them all the latest exploits of what went on beyond Fire Nation borders.

Meanwhile, true to her word, Katara went back to her room and attempted to sleep, but it was an effort in vain. The last few days had been weighing heavily on her- she and Aang had never experienced such a tumultuous period in their friendship before, and between the kiss during the play and the past ten minutes, it was safe to say there was some tension.

She closed her eyes and groaned, tossing and turning to try and find a comfortable position to no avail. She just couldn’t take her mind off it. Katara stared at the ceiling and let out a short huff before sitting back up with a new fire in her eyes. She wasn’t going to sit around, no, she was going to face her problems head on like a rock!

“Toph would be so proud,” Katara chuckled as she wrapped her kimono on over her bindings.

With as much stealth as she could muster, Katara carefully opened the door from her room and crept down the hallway until she was facing the entrance to Aang’s.

She stared at the block of wood intently. It almost seemed like a cruel metaphor- the barrier between her and Aang not only physically, but emotionally as well.

Nevertheless, Katara was here to get things done.

The waterbender didn’t want to knock and alert everyone else of what she was doing, but she also didn’t want to show up unannounced and startle Aang. After a few minutes of careful consideration, Katara concluded that the latter was the lesser of the two evils, and she slowly pushed the handle and entered his room.

In the very back, she saw Aang’s silhouette in the partially open paper divider splitting the balcony from the main room. Katara walked closer to him, and she sat down silently at the opening of the divider when she saw him in deep concentration. He had been meditating with four small candles, some water, and some rice buns on a wooden board in front of him. The dim light of the candles highlighted Aang’s tense features, contorted in frustration.

“I know you’re there, Katara,” the airbender said after a few moments, apparently not as concentrated as she thought. “I could hear your footsteps from a mile away.”

The girl blushed furiously in embarrassment and promptly decided the floor was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Katara apologized. “I just wanted to talk but I get if you’re busy-”

Aang sighed and bowed his head in reverence to the spirits before opening his eyes and turning to look at her with a kind expression.

“It’s alright. Meditating wasn’t really getting me anywhere anyways,” he said sheepishly. “What did you want to talk about?”

Katara twisted a lock of hair around her finger and scooted closer to him.

“I’m not here to lecture you or anything. I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do because ultimately it’s up to you and only you. You’re under a lot of stress right now, and I get that. I just don’t want, well, us,” she gestured between them, “to be a part of that stress.”

The airbender laughed nervously and looked at the trees around them to avoid her gaze. He subtly wiped his growingly sweaty hands on his cotton shirt, praying to all the spirits that she wasn’t talking about what he thought she was talking about.

“W-w-what do you mean? You, me, we’re f-friends! Good friends! Th-that’s all there is to it, right?”

“I’m talking about last night at the play,” Katara responded quietly, fingers fidgeting around in her lap. “We should talk about it.”

“Thanks a lot, spirits,” Aang groaned internally. He sighed and tucked his knees into his body.

“I think we both made it pretty clear that we want different things, Katara. It’s alright, really,” he said with a sad smile. “I made a mistake kissing you, especially after you already said you were confused, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about me- I’ll get over it. I just don’t want to lose your friendship. I’d rather we just pretend like it never happened.”

The regret in his eyes was as clear as a full moon against the backdrop of a cloudless night sky, and it killed Katara from within to see it.

“We both said a lot of things that night, Aang,” she frowned. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot the last day, and I didn’t explain myself very well.”

Aang looked at her hesitantly, silently pleading with her to continue. The waterbender tried her hardest not to grin when she saw his unintentional yet extremely endearing puppy dog eyes and instead threw her head back to look at the stars above them.

“I don’t want to lose your friendship either, Aang,” Katara murmured, gazing up at the sky. “You’re the first person I’ve known from outside my tribe, the first other bender I’ve met- you showed me the world. You were my first real friend, and... also my first kiss, first three actually.”

Heat rushed up to their cheeks while Aang became very invested in the wooden flooring, eyes fully concentrated on the patterns of the boards .

“...but more than that,” Katara continued, “you’re the first person I’ve cared for this much, and my brain, my heart, really, doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.”

She tilted her head to the side to look at the boy next to her, who was now also staring at her with newfound hope.

“So yeah,” she exhaled loudly, “I’m confused. But I don’t want to pretend like none of that night ever happened, because if I’m being honest, a part of me wanted all of the… all of our kisses to happen.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments while Aang tried to process her words and formulate his own response.

“So…” Aang trailed off. “Does that mean this, us, still has a chance?”

Katara looked at their intertwined hands and gave him a sad smile.

“Maybe, but that’s just it, Aang. We can’t, not right now.”

The airbender’s cautious smile immediately dropped and was replaced by a frown as he broke eye contact.

“We’re in a war,” she murmured apologetically. “No one, especially not us, can afford to do anything differently. In three days, you’re going to be facing the Firelord, which means in three days, one way or another, this war will be over, and sacrifices will probably be made.”

“Katara, you’re not saying-”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying that, but war means making hard decisions, and in that moment, with that decision, we can’t let emotions cloud our judgement. No matter what sacrifices might be made, we have to end this before it’s too late.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Aang said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes.”

Katara smiled at him and leaned in to gently press a kiss to his cheek.

“I know you won’t. I also know that whatever happens with the Firelord, you’ll do the right thing. Not because you’re the Avatar and you have to, but because you’re Aang. Because you’re my Aang, and my Aang always does the right thing.”

The airbender let out a breath of relief, heart practically glowing at her faith in him, and enveloped her in an embrace.

“Thank you, Katara. For everything. For being here for me the last few months, for getting me out of that iceberg, for coming here tonight telling me what I really needed to hear. It means a lot.”

Katara happily returned the hug and squeezed him tight. “Of course, Aang.”

She furrowed her eyebrows when she noticed the circles under his eyes as they broke apart.

“It’s getting late,” Katara whispered, her fingertips lightly tracing his cheeks.

“I’ll leave you to all this-” she gestured to the candles and food, staring quizzically at the contents of the board. “-Avatar business and whatnot. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll try my best,” Aang laughed softly as the girl stood up and began walking back to her room. “Good night, Katara. Sweet dreams.”

“I know you will, Aang. Good night and don’t stay up too late- you’ll need your rest.”

The waterbender quietly exited and Aang released a heavy sigh as the door closed with a soft thud.

The airbender turned back to his spread, closed his eyes once more, and resumed his meditation, hoping that somehow, by some miracle, there was another way waiting for him.

“I sure hope you’re right, Katara. I’ll need that luck.”

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 14

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

KJOTVE’S FORTRESS

THE DUNGEON

Eivor stared at the limp body dangling above him, utterly dismayed by the new reality he had just stepped into.

Not a single word escaped from the barrier of his lips, and yet, the only thing he wanted to do was scream. It felt as if everything around him had come to a sudden pause, and at the moment, there was nothing except a deafening silence crushing the walls of his skull.

How could Thora be dead? It was just a day ago that Eivor saw her roaming around, full of the vibrant life she always carried. He recalled their last conversation as if it were yesterday, and even now, her voice still lingered in his thoughts like the smoke of an extinguished flame.

He promised himself he would’ve saved her. He believed he would. He fully expected he’d be returning to Bjornheimr with Thora in tow after a long and arduous battle, but now... his entire world was crumbling around him.

Thora was gone. The very same woman who once rescued him from Kjotve’s barbarity had now succumbed to it herself, and it was all thanks to the hissings of a snake.

Eivor just prayed he would live long enough to see Dag again. He may not’ve been able to save Thora anymore, but he had every intention of ensuring that her killers would follow her footsteps across the bridge to Helheim.

It was the least he could do for her at this point, and the only thing he could do.

“Looks like you’re too late, Wolf-Kissed,” a familiar voice gloated from behind Thora. “Such a shame. All that time spent forming this alliance, and you couldn’t even save one person. Your entire bloodline has always been a joke.”

The young man averted his gaze from Thora’s corpse and spotted Gorm emerging from the shadows, battle-axe in hand as two other warriors prowled alongside him. Kjotve however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Gorm...!” Eivor growled, instantly rising from the floor. He brandished his axe and bared his teeth, ready to leap at them at a moment’s notice. “What have you done to my sister?”

The other man chuckled. “It’s rather obvious, isn’t it? Father cut her down like the bitch she was. Thora tried to put up a fight, but in the end, it meant nothing.” His lips curled into a smug grin. “I’m afraid her seat in the Corpse Hall will forever remain cold.”

Eivor mindlessly took a few steps forward, wanting nothing more than to sever Gorm’s head from his shoulders.

“...You argr dog!” He snarled. “I’ll tear your lungs out through your spine!”

Sigurd hurriedly snatched his lover’s arm, holding him back before he could get himself hurt.

“Eivor!” He warned.

Gorm snickered at the display, clearly not intimidated by the broken warrior’s threats. “You couldn’t kill me even if I was blindfolded, Wolf-Kissed. And we both know it.”

Sigurd ignored the viking’s taunts and got straight to the point, eager to put this charade to an end.

“Enough, Gorm!” He barked. “Where is Kjotve?”

“My father?” He let out a scoff. “He’s gone.”

The prince’s tone mellowed with bewilderment. “What?”

“Are you deaf, Styrbjornson?” Gorm snapped back. “I said he’s gone. He fled. He isn’t here.”

Sigurd grew impatient. “Well then, where the hell is he?”

“Even if I knew, you really think I’d tell you that? You are as stupid as you look.” Gorm brought his attention back to Eivor and smirked, not entirely finished with him just yet.

“It’s a pity, Eivor. My father actually wanted to keep Thora alive. She was rather valuable, after all. Could’ve made for a useful hostage. Not to mention that there are many slavers out there willing to give up a handful of silver for someone like that.”

The man rested his battle-axe on his shoulder. “But you know what? I tire of these games. I’m sick of going back and forth with your clan, and frankly, I don’t give a shit about what my father has to say.” He gestured to Thora’s body. “Consider this your only warning, Raven-Tamer. Tell your clans to back down, or else, Thora won’t be the only one with a broken neck when this war is over.”

Eivor glowered at him, his gaze wide open with an unbridled rage. “It’s too late for that, Gorm. You murdered my family. Your people burnt down my home. Our village lies in ashes because of you.” He tightened his grip on his axe. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than another corpse standing in my way.”

Raising his arm in the air, Eivor didn’t even give Gorm a chance to react before he hurled his weapon across the room, aiming straight for the other man’s head.

Before the axe could make contact though, Gorm quickly ducked under the trajectory and charged forward, signaling his men to follow suit. In the meantime, Eivor whipped out the spare axe hanging from his back and lunged at them, completely devoid of the grief that had crippled him mere moments ago.

As for Sigurd, he focused on taking down the other two warriors and instantly bashed the butt of his sword against one of their helms, attempting to knock off the piece of armor. He swung the lengthy blade into the man’s abdomen, and forcefully slammed him against the wall. The brutish viking struggled in Sigurd’s grip and tried to shove him away, but was quickly silenced when the prince jabbed his sword into the crack sitting above his collar.

For a brief moment, the warrior choked on the blood that came spurting from the wound and jerked like a fish out of water, but swiftly fell into death’s embrace once Sigurd sealed the kill. The prince allowed the lifeless man to collapse to the floor, and within a heartbeat, he was already hunting down the second man.

Meanwhile, Gorm and Eivor found themselves in a heated fight to the death and practically threw each other around the room, doing whatever they could to gain the upper hand. Their axes clashed together in a storm of vicious attacks, and if it weren’t for the cramped space of the dungeon’s cold walls, Eivor would’ve already tackled his opponent directly to the floor.

To Gorm’s surprise though, Thora’s death hadn’t hindered the Wolf-Kissed nearly as much as he expected. The strength behind each of his swings was fueled by a fervent sense of vigor, and if anything, he would’ve said that her loss only empowered him further.

There was a deadly layer of venom coating the edges of his sharp stare, and in the shadows, Eivor fought more akin to a beast than a man. His glare pierced through the darkness like a torch in the dead of night, and within seconds, he had already pummeled his way through Gorm’s wavering defense.

“You should’ve never laid your hands on Thora...” Eivor said through clenched teeth. “I’ll gut you for what you’ve done.”

With one powerful blow, the young man slammed his axe downwards and bashed Gorm’s weapon out of his grip, leaving him defenseless. Afterwards, he kicked the viking down to the ground and towered over his writhing body, preparing to land one final strike.

He took a handful of Gorm’s tangled hair and violently yanked his head up from the floor, positioning his blade right underneath the chin. Just before he could cut the flesh however, Sigurd’s voice came booming across the room, bringing Eivor to a sudden halt.

“Wait!” The prince exclaimed, reaching an arm out. “Don’t kill him...!”

Eivor shot a glance at him, his eyes still wide with fury. “Why not?”

Sigurd stepped over the corpses of the warriors he just slew, still somewhat worn out from the fight.

“We can make use of him. He’s the only one who can lead us to Kjotve. If he dies, we’ll be left in the dark.”

The young man was silent with reluctance, causing Sigurd to walk closer to him.

“Eivor...” he said, attempting to calm him down, “I know your heart bleeds for your sister, but we need Gorm alive. Without him, we’ll never find Kjotve on time. Think about this.”

“If it weren’t for this bacraut--” Eivor fired back, shaking the man in his grasp, “Thora would still be here! She would still be alive! We could’ve... we could’ve saved her. We could’ve brought her back home.”

Sigurd’s tone sank with empathy. “...I know, Eivor. I know. And he will pay for it. I promise you. But right now, vengeance will get us nowhere. The only way we’re ever going to bring this war to an end is if we strike at the core itself. We need to find Kjotve, and we need to do it quickly. We can’t give him time to recuperate.”

The young man was quiet in return, but Sigurd could tell he was listening. His actions were restrained by a leash of hesitation, and the fires of his rage had dimmed into nothing but dying embers.

“...Fine.” Eivor finally murmured. “Have it your way.” He threw a fist into Gorm’s face, knocking the man out cold.

Sigurd let out a breath of relief and made his way to Eivor’s side, unsure of what to say from here.

“You did the right thing, love.” He reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll send someone to fetch Gorm. We’ll tie the bastard up and bring him back to Bjornheimr. In the meantime...” Sigurd peered at Thora’s body, “...let’s get your sister down from there. She deserves a proper funeral.”

Eivor said nothing in response and simply slunk away from the unconscious warrior, drifting over to his fallen axe. He retrieved the weapon from the floor and wandered to the mechanism holding Thora in the air, carving through its taut rope with his blade.

Just after a few firm slices, the rope snapped in two and slithered free from the system keeping it in place, causing Thora’s body to plummet onto the rough stone.

She fell with a solid thud, and landed in a position that made it look as if she were only sleeping. Meanwhile, Eivor plodded sluggishly towards his deceased sister, entirely drained of any willpower he once carried.

“Thora,” he whispered, kneeling down beside her, “...I’m so sorry.”

Sigurd stayed by Gorm’s body, watching the tragic scene unfold. He never had the chance to speak with Thora other than a few scattered conversations, but even then, the heartache in Eivor’s voice was enough to plant sorrow within him. 

He remembered well what the loss of a loved one felt like. Despite having seen over twenty winters pass since then, Sigurd hadn’t forgotten how desolate the world was after his mother departed from this realm.

Everything felt pointless for a time. It took him months to find any motivation to see his life to its end, and even longer to accept the grim reality of the absence in his family. It wasn’t until he was a young man that Sigurd was finally able to move on from his grief, and to this day, he still experienced occasional bouts of loneliness.

He couldn’t imagine how Eivor must have felt. Not only was he mourning the loss of his sister, he was also battling with the guilt of not finding her on time. He never had the opportunity to say goodbye or wish her well, and if the horrors of war had taught Sigurd anything, it was that guilt often proved to be more torturous than any enemy out there. He just wished he knew how to help.

“Eivor?” Sigurd said softly, approaching the other man. He knelt on the floor beside Eivor, trying to provide him some amount of solace. “I’m... I’m sorry. This is...” he let out a deep sigh, “...this is unforgivable.”

His lover cradled Thora’s head in his lap, running a comforting hand through her hair.

“She saved me from Kjotve,” Eivor recalled, “when I was just a boy. While everyone else fell to his blade, she was the one to pull me out from the fire. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t even be here. I owed her... everything. And yet, I repaid her with nothing.”

The Wolf-Kissed’s shoulders slouched in despair. “Thora doesn’t deserve to be in Helheim. I do.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor, hoping to part the stormy clouds looming over his somber gaze.

“Don’t lay down your shield just yet, Eivor. We haven’t been defeated. We still have a chance to make this right. This war isn’t over.”

The younger man scoffed. “And when will it be over, hm? When Kjotve kills the rest of my family? When he kills you? When does it end?”

“I... I don’t know, Eivor.” Sigurd answered sincerely. “This tapestry that the Nornir have woven remains a mystery to me. But know this...” he looked his lover in the eye, “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that Kjotve doesn’t walk away from his crimes. I’ll find the traitor who’s hiding amongst our clans, and I’ll get the answers we need from Gorm. Even if I have to beat them out of him. Thora will be avenged.”

Eivor let out a shaky breath, attempting to conceal his forlorn nature. The last thing he wanted was to break down in front of Sigurd -- especially in the middle of a battlefield -- but he could feel his shell withering away with each passing second.

“Thank you, Sigurd.” He replied plainly. “You’ve always been there for me.”

The prince laid a delicate hand on the back of Eivor’s head, pulling him into a gentle hug as he pecked a kiss above his brow. “And I always will be.”

Disrupting the stillness, a clump of footsteps suddenly began to echo wildly off the stone walls, prompting Sigurd to separate their momentary embrace. He shifted his focus to the staircase on the opposite side of the room and took hold of his sword, bracing himself for anything.

Much to his relief however, he saw Ulfar hurrying into the scene with a small party of men in tow, attentively searching for the jarl’s missing daughter. His forehead glistened with the beads of freshly broken sweat, and splatters of blood could be seen staining both his axe and armor. 

“Sigurd! Eivor!” He called out upon noticing the two men. “Have you found--”

The raider fell into an abrupt silence, taking a moment to process exactly what he was looking at.

“...Is that...?” 

The prince gave him a dour expression. “...Thora. Yes.” He dragged a hand down his face. “We were too late. Gorm killed her.”

Ulfar blinked out of shock, completely taken aback by the horrid news.

“Oh, no...” he murmured under his breath. “When did this happen?”

“She was killed long before we arrived,” Sigurd explained. “Kjotve knew we were coming.”

The older man furrowed his brow in anger, seemingly unsurprised to hear the report. “...Shit. Where is Kjotve now?”

Sigurd shrugged. “No idea. He fled even before we set foot on his shores. The only person who could lead us to him is Gorm.”

“And where is he?”

The prince gestured to his body. “Over there. Don’t worry, he’s not dead. Just unconscious. I wanted to bring him back to Bjornheimr. See what he knows. He claimed to have no knowledge about his father’s whereabouts, but I don’t believe it for a second.”

“A wise choice. My men will take him to the longship. If this bastard has any information on Kjotve, we’ll get it. As for Thora...” Ulfar’s voice wavered slightly, “just look after her. Okay? I dread to see how Arngeir and Randvi will react to this, but we need to give her a proper burial. It’s the least we can do.”

Sigurd nodded. “We’ll take care of her.”

“Good. Then we should leave this damned fortress as soon as possible. I’ve seen enough of this frozen hell to last a lifetime.” Ulfar turned to address his raiders. “Men, gather any of our people you can find and return to the ship. Halvard, Osmund, I want you two to handle Gorm. Make sure he returns to Bjornheimr alive.”

“Of course, Ulfar.”

“Then let’s get moving. I imagine our jarl will be awaiting the news. Best we tell him sooner than later.” He took a glance over his shoulder, peering at Eivor. “...You lot go on ahead. I’m not quite finished here yet.”

Swiftly making their way out of the dungeon’s stuffy interior, Ulfar’s men returned to the ships and brought Gorm along with them, dragging him across the floor as if he were no more than a sack of meat.

As for Ulfar, the weathered warrior sheathed his axe and calmly approached Eivor, crouching down on the floor in front of him. He asked Sigurd to give them some privacy with a simple tilt of the head, and assured the man that he would take care of their mutual friend.

At first, the prince seemed tentative to abandon his lover’s side. Eivor was clearly still in a state of distress after all, and he didn’t much like the idea of leaving him in the hands of someone else. But after a moment or two, Sigurd decided to grant the young man some space and quietly removed himself from the dungeon, eager to get a breath of fresh air.

Meanwhile, Ulfar stayed behind and kept the distraught viking company, suddenly thinking back to when he found Eivor at the beach on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. Much like that day, the boy appeared to be lost in a labyrinth fashioned out of his own thoughts, and his eyes seemed to bleed with a profound darkness that even Ulfar didn’t know how to fend off.

It pained the old raider to see the man like this again. He had hoped that by the time Eivor reached his age, Kjotve’s cruelties would’ve been a thing of the past. He hoped that Eivor would’ve been able to start his adulthood in a world of prosperity, and yet, here they were, knee-deep in a storm that was only growing larger. It felt as if Fimbulwinter itself had settled into Norway’s seas, and the icy winds seemed to be biting their flesh harder than ever before.

Thora’s death had left an irreparable tear in the threads of Midgard, and frankly, Ulfar didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Eivor,” he finally said, “...it’s time to go.”

The Wolf-Kissed kept his gaze on Thora’s face, unable to even make eye contact with the other man. He could hear everything the raider was saying to him, and yet, his mind remained stranded in an ocean of fog.

“...What am I going to do, Ulfar?” He asked, his tone flat with emptiness. “Where do we go from here?”

Ulfar sighed morosely and stared at the floor, weeping internally at the sight of Thora’s corpse.

“The only way we can go.” He answered. “Forward.” He paused for a second, trying to maintain his composure. “I... I am going to miss Thora dearly. I watched her grow up, just like I watched you. Seeing her die before me -- it’s always been one of my worst fears.”

Ulfar knotted his hands together, carrying on with his train of thought. “But I knew Thora, and I know she wouldn’t have wanted this to weaken us. She wanted Kjotve dead as much as the rest of our clan, if not more. The best thing we can do for her now is ensure that she doesn’t die in vain.”

The raider gripped the sides of Eivor’s arms, holding him firmly in place.

“...Never let go of your axe, drengr. Not even in death. We are not broken yet. Kjotve will fall.”

Ulfar rose to his feet and beckoned the young man to do the same, ready to put this dreadful place behind them. The battle outside had finally died down after what felt like an eternity, and it sounded as if most of Kjotve’s men had been slain by the Bear and Raven Clans.

Though, of course, the enemies they faced here were only a portion of the man’s entire army. Ulfar imagined that the rest of them were protecting their cowardly leader on some remote island, and shielding him from the dangers of the world until his foes stumbled upon their doorstep.

But right now, he had no desire to spare another thought on the morbid subject. He was already drained due to the anchor of grief now weighing him down, and his heart pounded at the idea of informing Arngeir about his daughter’s brutal demise.

They were going to have a hefty funeral to prepare for once they got back home, and Ulfar could only hope that the traitor would soon join their fallen warriors on the pyres.

“Come, little cub,” he said to Eivor. “Your father’s waiting for us.”

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {18}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: Oooooooooh boy.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Rowan rode in the back of the car, right next to Cairn. He hated it, knowing full well he wanted to lash out and kill Cairn on the spot, but also knowing it would bring harm to Aelin. 

For the entirety of the ride, Rowan didn’t say a word, no matter how bad he wanted to. Cairn kept looking at him, tauntingly.

“Where’s my wife?” Rowan asked, quietly.

Cairn spun Rowan’s pistol around his finger, having already stripped him of his weapons. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” Rowan asked, in a deadly calm. 

“She’s alive,” Cairn answered, simply. 

“And unharmed?” Rowan asked, staring at his gun in Cairn’s massive, scarred hand. 

Cairn met Rowan’s gaze. “She was when I left, but that was a few hours ago. A lot can happen in the span of a few hours.” 

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t push. He was caught somewhere between wanting to grab his gun back from Cairn and putting a bullet through his head and saying fuck the consequences or sitting still, complying to the demands he was given, and probably getting shot by the end of the night.

At least, if Rowan got shot, his family would be safe. 

At least, that was the theory. 

Rowan opened his mouth to make a retort, but Cairn cut him off. “Say one more thing, and I’ll kill you with your own fucking gun. How tragic would that be?” 

Rowan’s lips snapped shut, but the look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. 

He hated this, every moment of it. Although grateful Lucy was home with Lorcan, Maeve still had his wife, his unborn child, and every chance he had to kill one of Maeve’s men and he couldn’t, didn’t, it drove him mad. 

They eventually pulled up to a home, quite a ways from Orynth’s border. They must not have cared that Rowan was seeing it now.

Considering he wouldn’t be leaving it alive to retell the tale. 

Rowan didn’t put up a fight as Cairn opened the door, ordering him out. In fact, he was quite cordial as he followed Maeve’s first in command into the old manor. Rowan didn’t know what he had been expecting, considering the landscaping wasn’t in horrible condition, but to find every piece of furniture covered in white sheets as if the owner was on an extended-holiday was not it. 

He tried not to look too intrigued, though, as he followed Cairn through the hallways, then through the door that led down to the kitchens. 

It was freezing, and the entire place was covered in webs as if no one had bothered to dust down there in a while. Rowan tried to keep his eyes open, trying to look for any sign that Aelin had been through there, but he was only met with a stone floor, and stone walls. They walked past the kitchen, further down the hall, where no windows let in any sort of light.

Candelabras lined the walls, though, which only made Rowan nauseous as he was reminded of some sort of medieval dungeon. 

When they came to the end of the hall, and Rowan’s heart was nearly ready to beat through his chest, they halted in front of a closed door.

Cairn knocked on it, twice, and they waited.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then it swung open, and Rowan followed Cairn inside. 

Maeve was lounging behind a massive oak desk, completely unphased by the arrival of her nephew. Instead of surprise, she was smiling at him as he entered, her eyes lit with something that made Rowan’s nausea grow worse.

“Hello, nephew,” Maeve crooned. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Rowan said nothing. His lips remained closed as he stared, waiting. 

“I have to admit that I feel…” she paused, trying to decide on the perfect word. “Exhilarated. I’ve been trying for this victory for so long that I almost thought it was nothing more than a dream.” 

“You haven’t won yet,” Rowan said, simply.

Maeve snorted. “I beg to differ. The second I got Aelin Galathynius into my company - spoiled little bitch, she is - I knew I had you wrapped around my finger.”

Rowan lifted his chin.

“You are mine now, nephew,” she crooned. “You will die.”

“Where is she?” Rowan breathed. 

“Here,” Maeve answered, her voice light, which only pissed Rowan off more. 

“I want to see her,” Rowan replied, keeping his voice as calm as possible. 

“That’s not possible,” Maeve replied, without any hesitation. 

“Surely if you’re going to kill me, you’re not so cruel that I can’t say goodbye,” Rowan responded. 

“And how do you know that I’m not so cruel?” Maeve asked, humored. 

Rowan’s jaw was rigid, and for a moment, he said nothing. He stared at his aunt, at the woman he had known his whole life, at the woman he’d used to live with, used to work for, and wondered how the fuck they got to where they were now. 

He blamed it all on Arobynn Hammel. 

In one fluid motion, Rowan reached down into his boot and pulled out a small, handmade bomb that Vaughan himself had constructed, He held it close to him, his fingers hovering near the pin that held it all together. 

Everyone in the room froze, Maeve’s haughty smile finally fading away. 

“I will cooperate, under one condition,” Rowan said, slowly. “Aelin goes home. Today. Now. Safely. You can take me, have me, kill me, but my wife goes free.” 

Maeve’s eyes narrowed. “And if I say no? She’s in this building, you set that off, she dies, too.”

“So do you,” Rowan responded. “And all your men.” 

“You’re bluffing,” Maeve spat.

Rowan’s grin was one to behold. “Would you like to test that theory?” 

Maeve watched him, carefully. “Vaughan made that.”

“Yes.”

Her grin reappeared, and she shook her head, slowly. “You forget that I know you all. Very, very well.” 

Rowan said nothing, unsure of where she was going, but not liking it, not one bit.

“I’ve seen many of Vaughan’s creations through the years,” Maeve went on, leaning back in her chair. “Both those that he has made to actually take lives, and those he’s made to use as a pawn.”

Rowan stayed perfectly still, perfectly calm. “Don’t test me, Maeve.”

“Don’t lie to me, nephew,” she spat. 

The second Rowan moved, the butt of his own handgun hit him in the back of the head.

He remembered nothing after that for a long, long while.

~~~~~

“You let her take him?” Lysandra’s voice boomed through the manor.

“We had no choice,” Gavriel replied, his voice low. “What Rowan wants to do, he does, it doesn’t matter what we thought-.”

“He’s in Maeve’s hellhole!” Lysandra shouted. “She’s going to kill him!” 

Aedion was standing just behind her, softly rubbing her lower back. She stepped away, not wanting comfort. 

“We’re going to work out a plan,” Gavriel followed.

“A plan,” Lysandra repeated, mockingly. “Why does that not sound promising?” 

“Way to put your faith in us,” Gavriel growled. “I understand you’re worried-.”

“Worried?” Lysandra interrupted, laughing humorlessly. They thought she’d say something else, thought she would blow up, thought she would tear them all to shreds, but she didn’t.

She just shook her head and turned her back to all of them, then walked away. 

“She’s right.” Lorcan’s voice came quietly from the corner where Lucy was sound asleep on his shoulder. “We let him go, and we shouldn’t have.”

Gavriel said nothing. Instead, he took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, put it between his lips, and lit the tip. 

“We don’t even know where Maeve is holding them,” Fenrys said, leaning back in a chair in the dining room, his hat over his face. 

No one bothered to correct him. 

He was right. 

“Would you like to know what I think?” Natalia asked. 

All at once, they answered, “No.” 

With a scowl, she hurried out, following Lysandra. 

“I’ll go meet with Rhoe and the others,” Aedion announced. “See what we can find out. I’ll come back in a few hours to tell you what I know.”

Gavriel nodded, and Aedion was gone to tell Lysandra goodbye. 

“And what do we do?” Lorcan asked, quietly. “While we wait?”

Lorcan, Fenrys, Gavriel, and Vaughan all looked at one another, realizing that it was the first time they had ever been without Rowan, since he had been their leader. Gavriel hated to admit that he felt like he felt when they had lost Rowan’s father. But, they wouldn’t vote on a new leader, not yet.

Rowan’s fight was not finished. 

It wouldn’t be finished. 

He was going to escape, going to live, going to beat this shit. 

“We…” Gavriel began, then shook his head, taking another drag from his cigarette. After blowing out a long breath, and a puff of smoke, he continued. “Vaughan and I will go talk to our guys on the police force. Lor, you and Fen go back to the tracks and see if you can find any signs, or tracks, follow them. As soon as you have a decent lead, come back here. We’ll all meet up in a few hours and take it from there.”

There was a moment of silence, but then Fenrys asked, still beneath his hat, “And if we’re too late?” 

The room fell silent. 

It was a risk. Every moment they spent looking and finding nothing was a risk. 

A risk they had no choice but to take. 

Gavriel just shook his head. “We won’t be.”

It was a promise he couldn’t keep, but he would try to keep it if it was the last thing he did. 

He wouldn’t say the words, wouldn’t bury Rowan, who was like a younger brother to him.

The words would not fall from his lips, not if Gavriel could help it. And yet, the words wouldn’t stop replaying through his mind as he stood from the dining room table, reloaded his gun, and left the manor with Vaughan.

In the bleak midwinter.

~~~~~

Aelin had been crying for hours.

At least, it felt like hours, but she had no way of knowing how much time had truly passed. 

The moment the door to her prison opened and Rowan was tossed inside, bloody and unconscious, she had lost it.

For a while, she had tried to wake him up, to no avail. Then, once she made sure he was breathing, she just waited.

And the waiting was agonizing. 

Leaning against the wall, in the dreadful silence, she watched Rowan’s chest rise and fall. Slowly, shakily. 

His lip had been cut, his eye bruised, as if knocking him out hadn’t been good enough, the assholes under Maeve’s command had to leave their mark, too. 

Feeling completely exhausted, she crawled over to Rowan and laid down beside him on the cold, hard floor. Rowan didn’t move as Aelin laid her head on his chest, and draped an arm across his waist. 

A tear slid down her cheek, onto his jacket.

“Please wake up,” she whispered, pleaded, begged. “We need to get out of here, Ro. You, me, the baby….we need to get out of here.” 

Nothing.

She grasped the fabric of his jacket, clinging to it with all that she had. At least Lucy was safe. At least, she hoped so. When Rowan woke up, Aelin would ask.

And Rowan would wake up.

Because, if he didn’t…

No.

The thought was too excruciating.

“Ro, Ro, please, wake up,” she whispered, although she was so tired that she could hardly keep her eyes open. “I love you, sweetheart, and I need you to wake up. We can get out of this, baby, but I can’t do it alone, okay?”

She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear, through the layers that covered his chest. 

When she received no indication of Rowan waking up, a sob tore through Aelin’s body. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent, memorizing everything she could about her husband.

If this would be their last moment alive, she would take in everything she could, hoping it went with her to the afterlife. She hated it, though. Hated that this is what she would bring into the afterlife with her.

Memories of lying together on the floor, blood streaked across Rowan’s face, him unresponsive. Aelin must have fallen asleep, and it’s exactly what she dreamt about.

Rowan, unconscious, dying, and her soon after. Then, the three of them - Rowan, her, and their daughter - walking into the afterlife. 

Their daughter looked just like her father.

Silver hair, green eyes, sun-kissed skin. She was beautiful. The most beautiful. Aelin couldn’t believe how much love she had for the little girl. 

But then she woke up, her eyes shooting open. 

A hand had moved to her lower back, and when she lifted herself up, she saw Rowan’s eyes watching her. He was exhausted, she could tell, in pain.

But he was awake. 

“Rowan.” Her voice was part whisper, part sob, part disbelief. She cupped his face as she kissed him, carefully. “I was so afraid, so worried you were….”

Her words trailed off, unable to say any of what she was actually thinking. 

“I’m okay,” Rowan said, his voice raspy, tired. He reached up with a shaky hand to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I’m going to get  you out of here.”

“What-.”

“I’m going to make a deal.”

“No,” Aelin breathed. “No, unless it includes you and me walking out of these doors, together.”

Rowan eyed her for a moment, his gaze soft, before he said, “We both know that won’t happen. But, I’m going to get you out of here, Aelin. You, and the baby.”

Aelin shook her head, knowing what he was going to say next.

“I’m going to have to give myself to Maeve, Aelin, but you and the baby will be free.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses  @garnet-29  @writer-reader-traveller  @rowaelin-cressworth  @space-buns-arsinoe  @negativenesta  @empress-ofbloodshed  @the-regal-warrior  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @westofmoon  @sammyjojaaaa  @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @carbconnoisseur @acer6437  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cool-ish-nerd  @mynewdreamwasyou  @mourning-razorlust  @thespiritualrider  @rowaelinforeverworld  @didsomeonesayviolin  @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit  @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @queen-of-glass  @the-dark-swan  @http-itsrebecca  @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17  @mollycateoc  @chemicha  @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider  @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls  @shyvioletcat  @hermajestyanna  @a97girl  @stardustsroses  @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012  @awkward-avocado-s  @faerie-queen-fireheart  @cwheart  @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294  @nerdperson524  @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red  @acourtofmoonlight   @rowaelinforeverworld  @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean  @thewayshedreamed  @wind-drinker  @aelin-rowan-whitehorn  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @hurema @http-itsrebecca  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears  @iliketoasterstrudels  @lightitup-bryce  @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books  @keshavomit  @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars  @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204  @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro   @b00kworm  @mu-si-ca-l   @thegayerpotato  @abraxos-is-toothless  @keshavomit  @musicdreamer003   @superspiritfestival  @sailorsassley  @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123  @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame​  @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me​ @rinad307

[rosemaidenvixen]

Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight. 

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it. 

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own. 

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare. 

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue. 

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece. 

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions. 

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company. 

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,” 

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

*

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice. 

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative. 

[ranmanjuu]

Hello! Sorry about the slowness of your blog, so here’s a request! How MC that can do Magic Tricks? Not Harry Houdini, but card tricks and making a coin“disappear”. Can you please do this with the Oda forces? Thank you!

ok so like,, idk what’s considered “harry houdini” magic and what’s not (from what i understand it’s illusion/escape magic [although that’d be a cool hc] so wow my ‘cut assistant in half’ idea is out the window..,,.,,. and i’m not sure if some of these are considered illusion magic or not). and also i don’t know enough about magic tricks at all and i just picked some mainstream ones and like,,,... one (1) trick that my brother could do. also i don’t have too much knowledge of how some of them work,, but here ya go:

—nobunaga:

the moment nobunaga told you to bring proof of you being from the future, of course your first thought was to get your purse. tipping the bottom up, all of its content spilled on the floor.

and while the lord was observing your phone, your own eyes landed on the card deck you brought from your last magic show. with a small grin, you picked it up, “hey nobunaga, instead of that go game let me show you something.”

he turned to you with an expectant gaze, “as long as it’s as entertaining, lucky charm.”

your grin widened, and the cards were shuffled expertly in your hands. pushing the rest of the items aside, you spread them out in front of nobunaga in a row, “pick a card, any card.”

his brows lifted at your request, but does it anyway. he pulls out one from the middle; a king of spades. “alright, now don’t show me it.” he’s a bit confused as to what you’re going to do, but he’s also intrigued. you pat the floor, gesturing him to set the card down whilst hiding it, and he does.

you tell him to pick a section to hide it in, and he picks the one near the end. the deck is shuffled again entirely, and you lay it down on the floor facing up.

“now,” you say, and nobunaga finds himself leaning closer to you, “i’ll try and pick your card out.”

he watches as your eyes sweep through each card, before pulling out a king of spades. his card.

“is this your card, ‘my lord’?”

he’s stone faced at first, then a small twinkle sparks in his eyes, “perhaps you’ll be much more entertaining that i thought. show me more, fireball.”

and now, between the ruthless games of go, you often show him the tricks you’ve learnt. it brings a sort of boyish excitement to him, and he really reminds you of your own audience.

and sometimes, he teases about you being a goddess of trickery, fishing his heart to be yours.

it’s quite adorable, to see the devil king be like that.

—hideyoshi:

the unknown and general foreign atmosphere from the castle was something you couldn’t bear most of the time. the distrust from hideyoshi, the rough personalities that were wildly different from your time—there was a limit until your soul had to take a rest.

and your escape was to the town. you were a magician, someone who entertained others. and you sure as hell weren’t going to perform for the castle! so you went to the common folks.

your bright and extroverted attitude quickly spread among mostly the youths; kids would often surround you with their hyper-energized excitement, and you’d get along nicely! you’ve started performing too, at the fields where the children play.

so each day, you’d come down from the castle with a new trick to show the kids. it’s a nice change of pace from the war.

meanwhile, hideyoshi was still very doubtful of you, and between what free time he had, you’d be gone from the castle.

however one day, he managed to trail along from a free day (one forcefully given by nobunaga). seeing you carry some suspicious items wrapped in cloth downtown didn’t settle right with him, so he hid in the shadows as you approached the main streets, and onto the place you usually perform at.

he sees you setting up some things on a table, said things still covered in cloth. a girl approaches you shyly, and you smile brightly at her. crouching down, the two of you began talking about something he couldn’t hear. and after a nod from the girl, she seemed to,,, hand you something.

uh oh, his alert is up! his hand mindlessly gripped his sword as you carried the bundle of unknown things and bellow the table. finally, it’s showtime.

more and more kids ran to your table, shouting excitedly about, “the azuchi magician is performing!”

and that couldn’t help but melt his heart, just a bit.

you were in a black and white kimono (a substitue for a tuxedo) and a hat he never seen anyone wear (top hat). he watches silently as you act out a silent performance, showing the insides of your hat empty. you pull out a black wand with a white tip (a weapon?! he thought) and tapped the hat three times. suddenly...

a rabbit jumped out! not only were the kids surprised, hideyoshi himself was gaping slightly too. were you some sort of enchanter?

as the show was over, the crowd dispersed. the white rabbit sat on the table being happily petted by you. a girl approaches you again—it’s the same as before.

you smile at her and gave a gentle pat on the head, “thank you for lending me your rabbit, tomoka! you really did help me with this one, y’know?”

the girl, tomoka, he noted, blushed lightly. “n-no. . .thanks for the performance, azuchi magician,,!”

the way you smiled, so earnestly like that to the common folk and treating them normally. . . maybe hideyoshi could start trusting you.

—mitsuhide:

most of your props were in your bag, and it was starting to cram the space inside it. so you sprinkled it around your room—it was the closest you had to decoration of your own. but it proved to be quite,,,, troublesome, so to say, for it to just lie around.

and you learnt such when you came to mitsuhide’s manor (as per his request) and finding him with all your things. all.

“so,” he began, and you fell the cold sweat creeping in, “it seems our little mouse is rather. . . noxious.”

“,,,, i can explain.”

“i’d love to hear why you have such peculiar items at your possession.” there was a smile on his face,,, but it felt like there wasn’t. you explained your future situation, and he listened in silence.

he hummed, and questioned each item you had, and you answered the best you can. most of it related to your profession, he noticed. but there was just one thing. . .

“then tell me,” he pulls out a sword, and your temperature drops a thousand degrees, “why do you have this?”

“ ,,,, i͟ c͟a͟n͟ e͟x͟p͟l͟a͟i͟n͟.”

you held the sword in your hands, all the while glancing up at the other every milisecond to see if your life wasn’t in danger. and with a burst of unknown confidence, you pulled the tip of the blade to your mouth, and proceeded to insert it deeper and deeper.

you couldn’t see mitsuhide’s reaction—you didn’t want to—as the sword got “deeper” into your throat. by the time you’re finished, if it were real, it would’ve ended by your stomach.

and slowly, you pulled it out, with a pathetic addition of, “it’s a magic trick thing too.”

your eyes absolutely refused to meet his, just opting to burn its stare into the ground. mitsuhide smirked. his suspicion was definitely there—but the innocent way you did that was just so cute.

“i’m beginning to wonder what your intentions are, shoving such a thing deep into your mouth in front of a man, in his quarters, little mouse.”

—masamune:

ever since masamune found out about your previous occupation, he’s always begged you to show them off (the more dangerous, the better). most of the time, you’ll cave in and do a really popular trick known in the community, then tell him off for a bit. it’s all in good fun, really.

but now both of you were bored, and you knew from experience in the case of the one-eyed dragon being bored, the time will only come before he wrecks absolute shit again just for the hell of it.

so you want to post-pone that, at least.

you pulled out three ceramic cups and a small gold coin, setting them on the table. his eyes were on you now, “what’re ya doin’, lass?”

you smiled with a tint of mischief, “how about we play a game?” at the mere mention of that got him to sit up with a wild grin of his own, “loser has to do what the winner says. anything they say.”

considering it’s masamune, you potentially had a lot on the line. but you were experienced enough—hopefully.

you explained the simple rules to him: you’ll put the coin underneath one of the cups, shuffle it, then he has to guess which one has it. easy peasy.

usually you’d do it slower or quicker, but again, it’s masamune. maybe he can slip a sight of what you did and if you lose, it’ll be a tiresome rest of the day.

your hands moved swiftly and expertly, shuffling between the three cups. and his eyes were trained on them like a tiger to its prey. and in the midst of all the sliding around, you passed the coin from one cup to another.

and once you were done, you set the three ceramic pieces in a row.

“pick, masa.”

his eyes were certain, full of confidence, as he pointed at the left one. a grin ripped its way to your face, when it’s revealed there’s nothing there.

his good eye widened a bit, before narrowing down in slight thrill. “ya really are a witch, lass.”

—ieyasu:

ieyasu wasn’t as expressive about his love in the public sometimes. he’d use an indirect and often contrarian way to do so—just like he did the first few times you met. and you yourself loved to give him little bouts of affection, mostly through words and the likes.

that day was a hot one, with the two of you just lazing about in his manor. you had your deck of cards on you, just shuffling them around mindlessly. as your mind wandered, you stopped as an idea surfaced.

with a small smile, you went out from the room ieyasu was in, just to write something on a card, and so he wouldn’t see. once you came back, he directed a raised eyebrow at you.

“hey ieyasu,” you call out to him casually, picking out a card from your deck. an ace of hearts, between your fingers and facing him, “wanna see some magic?”

his eyebrow rose higher, and you flip around the card between your fingers smoothly. his gaze trailed over each time you threw it up in the air, twisting your hand in mostly useless moves, and suddenly—

the card was gone from your hands. just like that.

for a moment, he was rendered speechless. the sight was adorable, really; his lips slightly parted and eyes widened just a crack.

the smile grew from your face, and just like before, you seem to materialize a card out of nowhere. without a chance to see it clearly, you put it in ieyasu’s hand facing down.

he flipped it. the ace of hearts, but on it were scribbled he words “i ♥ you"

“. . .you’re so silly, you know that?”

—mitsunari:  

as a magician, certain props were set up for a specific trick. meaning they don’t work how it normally would; but such didn’t really bother you when your habit of shuffling cards while thinking came into effect.

but mitsunari, despite not noticing most things about other people, was highly observational. with a small smile, his attention turned from your lesson, the ones he taught you in, and unto the deck in your hands.

“yesterday the back of it was blue, and now it’s red. do you own several of these?”

you paused, looking up at his lilac eyes with a small grin, “yep. wanna know why?”

the way he tilted innocently was too much to take. so you opted to distract yourself by spreading every cards facing up on the table, “this is how a normal deck looks like, right?”

“yes, as i’ve seen from you before.”

the grin on you slowly widened as you got into your magician self, collecting the cards into a neat stack. you mimic casting a spell on it, swirling your hands above it as mitsunari stared at you, mistified.

once you were done, you spread the cards down again. one major difference stuck out: all the cards were now king of diamonds. every single one.

mitsunari let out a small gasp, picking out a random card and observing it from all angles. the way he looked so serious was a bit cute—you’ll admit.

only your giggle brought him back to reality. you collected the cards again, did the hand motions, and the deck was back to normal. aside from the king of diamonds left in his hand—which was the only one from the deck, coincidentally.

“—!” he calls your name with bouts of admiration, “you’re so miraculous! perhaps you’re a goddess blessed on us.”

you waved the accidental flattery he said, but a blush still got to your cheeks.

—ranmaru:

ranmaru was quite a childish one, you figure out soon. it doesn’t take talking with him long to see the way his eyes light with such innocent, child-like wonder. he reminds you a lot of the children you often performed for—the way he saw the world was so much alike to how their eyes filled with amazement each time you went on stage.

thus, it was soon when you invited him to your room with the intention of showing your skill off to him, just to get a feel of how it was like before you got dragged into the sengoku period.

you wanted to ease him in first, so you went with a small thing.

as the conversation of mostly random topics ran about, your fiddled and flipped a coin in your hand. his eyes would sometimes trail at how your fingers could balance such a small thing so quickly, quieting his voice by astonishment.

“ranmaru, wanna see something cool?” you quickly interjected the conversation. his nods were fast, eyes ripping away from the coin and to your own.

you threw the coin up in the air, occasionally balancing the small piece of gold with the tips of your fingers. one last throw, it lands in your palm, and you shut it swiftly. he’s watching closely, dazed by your minor performance.

you opened your palm; the coin’s gone.

“—eh?!” a surprised yelp escaped him, “where did it go. . .?”

ranmaru looked up to you for answers, and you just shrug casually with a tiny smile. your hands were taken in his, his own fingers flipping it around and even patting down the sleeves of your kimono to check if it fell down there. after no luck, his eyes roamed to the floor to see if you just threw it, somehow. nothing.

slowly, his head turned back to you, with eyes so filled with stars it could be a galaxy. “—! you’re a miracle! so cool, how’d you do that?!”

you’re right, he is like the kids you perform for.

“as they say,” all you answered was to put your index finger to your lips, and send him a wink, “a magician never reveals their secret~!”

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Château P2

Castlevania x Reader

Warnings: 🧛Mentions of blood and crying like a big baby.

Notes: Alucard is pretty yumm

You’re not sure how long it had been since the sun had set.

You seem to be rather lucky at the moment, finding a path in such a thick forest and all. Of course, you guess that following it will lead you to some sort of populated area. But, how lucky can you really be? Your decorative slippers are beginning to wear down, your dress is partially ripped from the low hanging branches and your hair resembles a rat’s nest.

Obviously, no giant mutant bats have approached you because you’re much more putrid than they find themselves to be.

Hold on.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, noticing a flickering light in the distance. You remind yourself of things that emit light and come to the conclusion that what you’re seeing in the far distance is a lantern.

Following a strange light doesn’t seem very smart but you’re sure your options are more than exhausted if you don’t.

So you take off after the brilliant glow of this newly discovered lantern. Your steps don’t make much noise, but the crunch of the dead leaves make quite the ruckus.

An ear piercing screech can be heard somewhere high above and behind you. Of course those foul beasts kept following you. There’s no way they wouldn’t!

As you continue to run, you notice the lantern nearly vanishes into the brush.

Desperate, you call out. “HELP!”

The lantern seems to come back for a moment, but that moment is cut short as your foot catches itself under a root and pulls you down with it. You tumble for the third time this day, but this fall was much harder than the others. Sharp rocks rip at whatever parts of your dress previously lay untouched by branches, your palms scrape onto rough stone and you swear you heard something break.

You try to stand, but your knees buckle and drop you back down. As a result of being unable to stand, you cave in on yourself. The sore pains are really starting to kick in.

Another shriek cuts itself through the area and you begin to cry at the thought of being mauled by those vicious beasts. You can’t help it. Everything feels hopeless at this very moment. Your most desperate wish is to be back in Carmilla’s oddly cold silk sheeted bed.

The creatures land with a gush of wind. You only cower.

Their snarls are low and shake the ground as they come near. But... they stop their approach. You know this because they’re no longer moving and you’re no longer breathing. You’re holding your breath, listening. And they’re listening too.

Before you know it, they take off again.

Did they think you were dead? Your heart is hammering against your rib cage and there’s no way they couldn’t have heard it.

Once you can no longer hear their wings, you open a single eye to observe. Then you open the other as you sit up.

You’re still alone? You attempt to stand again, but your legs give way just as easily as they had before. As you feel around, you come to notice a growing trickle of blood gliding down your arm. You’ve... never been cut before. The thought of it begins to numb you, your arm feeling like it’s never been there rather than still being by your side. Your fingertips vibrate with a newfound fear. Blood doesn’t usually worry you, but seeing your own blood does. In the open, it lets others know you’re a free meal.

“Are you alright?” Asks a strangely calm voice. This time, it isn’t in your head, but rather an outsider. You manage to twist yourself to see the owner of such a sultry sound.

“Who are you?” You ask defensively toward the familiar blond beauty, managing to stand quickly yet unsteadily. Your legs can give out at any moment, but you’re pushing them to their fullest out of fear.

You notice his golden gaze sets itself on your arm’s wound. You catch on and speak up rather quickly. “I-I’ve got a lot of run in me.”

The stranger quirks a brow as he steps forward. You take a step back, trying your best to match him, but one misstep causes you to land firmly on your ass.

“I see that. You’re quite the fighter.”

That remark reminds you of your cowardly display moments ago, curled up in the dirt and crying. Your face heats up.

“You’re bleeding-“

“Are you going to eat me?” You cut him off.

He seems taken aback by your sudden question.

“That depends.” He playfully smiles your way, gesturing as he speaks. “Are you offering yourself up to me?”

You’re surprised and a little pissed by his words. Of course you would never offer yourself up to anyone. Whether it be by choice or not, Carmilla would never let you hear the end of it.

The stranger grimaces at your expression.

Behind him, a woman’s voice speaks. “We need to keep walking, Alucard.”

Alucard?

“A-Adrian Tepes?” You suddenly say with your newfound information. You knew you recognized him from somewhere.

“How do you know that name?” He asks, a scowl present on his face.

“There are portraits that resemble you in the castle— Dracula’s castle.”

The woman shows herself from behind the man. She’s human. “You’ve been in the castle?”

“Yes— I actually don’t know where I am right now. You see, I fell into a mirror and landed here.” You must sound crazy to anyone who hadn’t witnessed the mirror themselves.

“I see.” Alucard speaks lowly.

“I’ve never been this far from my mistress. I think I’ve been handling myself well, but you’re the first people I’ve encountered thus far.”

The woman exchanges a look with Alucard and whispers to him. “Mistress?” You don’t think she understands. “Come with us. We can drop you off at the next town, if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head. “No, no. What I want is to return to the castle.” You’re beginning to speak frantically. “Please, I don’t know how well I’ll fair during these times!”

The woman looks back to Alucard. He nods to her before taking the reigns and speaking for the both of them.

“We’ll bring you.”

The woman angrily yells out. “Alucard! We can’t bring her, she can’t fight.”

Meanwhile, Alucard seems to be rather composed as he watches you. “But she proves to be a good distraction.”

As they bicker about your use, your head begins to weigh down, your eyes flutter shut with barely any control and sound is but a fading memory. Your hand reaches over to your arm and you draw back to find your hand covered in blood. Huh. You guess you’ve been bleeding this entire time.

Your head violently comes in contact with the ground and you black out almost instantly.

~

When you come to, you find yourself lightly swaying. Then you begin to notice the noise. Something like.. hooves kicking up dirt.

You bolt upright with wide eyes and take in your surroundings.

You’re on the back of a wooden wagon drawn by horses. Around you is an old fur coat, no doubt to keep you warm.

“How was the nap?” Alucard asks, bringing your attention to him. He’s seated on the edge of the wagon, his sight set on you.

“Is she finally awake?” Asks a gruff, borderline uninterested voice.

“Yes, she’s awake.” You reply bitterly.

“Good. We can leave her at the next town.” The man shoots back.

Alucard smiles in your direction, feeling quite amused by the short exchange.

“I’m Sypha.” The woman from before speaks. You turn around and spot her looking your way. She’s sitting next to the strange angry man you had just spoken to. He appears just as you had imagined. Dirty. “This is Trevor.”

“My name is Y/N.” You share and Sypha smiles your way.

“I bandaged you up.” She says. “If you still want to join us you’re more than welcomed to—“

“Excuse me-“ Trevor attempts to cut in but is in-turn cut from the conversation entirely.

“—but please know that it’s not safe.”

You nod your head after giving it some thought. There’s no other options on the table. Staying at a nearby town can still result in your death, at least by returning to the castle you’re becoming Carmilla’s problem once again. Besides... you’re starting to miss her.

“Were you and your mistress close?” Alucard asks.

You look his way and nod your head once more.

“If I may ask: what’s she like?”

“She’s very bossy.” You say, looking elsewhere as the conversation continues. “But I know it’s because she wants what’s best for me.”

“Does she treat you well?”

“Oh course she does!” You snap. “In her own way, she’s very caring. What are you trying to get at?”

“Just prying.” Alucard sighs as he looks into the forest.

You cross your arms and look the other way, stating something very matter-of-factly in a tone that, if heard by the right person, sounds like you’re not so sure yourself. “She cares. So— you can just keep quiet.”

The forest was quite boring to stare at. It almost felt as though you were staring into some endless void as the silent moment went by. Tree here, tree there.

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 4]

Birds Of a Feather

Today is Sara’s birthday (both the author and the fictional one!) so we decided to come out of our usual hiatus to post a silly update and let y’all know that we’re grateful to have such wonderful, loyal readers that haven’t given up on us ✨ Hope you’re gonna enjoy this!

(In the previous chapters: the game of Never Have I Ever has been intense, to say the least, and now the guests are left to go on with the party with the aftermath of thoughts and memories that the game brought up)

The game finally ended and, unsurprisingly to everyone, Elias was the undisputed winner. Nevertheless, he laughed it off, saying he just lied and avoided drinking when he could have done it because he’d rather have the others get drunk so he could make fun of them. The gang didn’t even pretend to believe his version.  They hated him more when Layla came up with the idea for the prize. Elias was already rubbing his hands, expecting a kiss or something similar, but it turned out the girl wanted to award him by revealing to him the solution to her previous game. “Sorry, Layla, but I gotta tell you, you don’t know what you just did there” Mike shook his head as she walked him by with two full glasses in her hands. “Hehe, what?” she stopped to talk to him and after an awkward couple of seconds handed him one of the drinks. She had meant to catch up with Eddie, offer him the drink, drink up her stronger one for some liquid courage, and tell him that she liked him.  But now there she was, talking to Cready, and didn’t want to seem rude, keeping the alcohol to herself. “You put a big weapon in the hands of the wrong person, that is Elias. Now the guy’s gonna go to every girl in the room and use it as a bargaining chip to get something out of it” Mike explained keeping a straight face, something that made her laugh in his face “Don’t laugh, I’m not joking!” “You’re an evil genius, how did you come up with such a plan? I bet Elias didn’t even think about that!” “Uhm, I don’t know… but I bet you didn’t think about it. Or you’d have already used it with a certain someone…” he remarked and hid his smile drinking a sip from his glass. “What the hell are you talking about, Michael? You’re drunk” Layla tried to sound dismissive but was actually smiling. “I’m talking about things, you know. Things that should be done. And if you’re gonna do things, New Year’s Eve is the night – I mean, it’s the mother of all nights, isn’t it?” “The mother of nights to do… things?” Layla asked with an arched eyebrow. “Exactly. Like, it’s New Year’s Eve! It’s a big event” “A big doing-things event” the girl nodded suspiciously. “You almost feel like you have to do things tonight” “Ok but no. This idea of having to do things... it’s kinda cliché. Isn’t New Year’s Eve just so overrated?”  “Maybe. I guess you don’t need to ring in the New Year doing things… if you actually do things during the rest of the year too. But if you don’t…” Mike didn’t finish his sentence, keeping the weird theoretical conversation on a very practical matter going.  “And what if I wanna start doing things tomorrow?” “Well, it’s almost tomorrow, so...” he shrugged and took Layla by her wrist, showing her her own watch.  “Half past eleven? Already?” Layla emptied her glass at once and handed it to Mike, then left and went around the apartment looking for someone, finally determined.  <New Year’s resolution #1: doing things> 

♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️

Sara was quietly sipping on her fruit punch when the stereo system started to blast Lambada at full volume; after she recovered from a near death by choking, she proceeded to look for the person responsible for that atrocity. Meanwhile, around her some people had begun to dance to the tune in a totally unironical way – that made her quicken her pace. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you in charge of the mixtape!” she finally gave the culprit a push from behind “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” “I’ve been told, once or twice...” Stone gave her a lazy smile “What, you don’t approve of my musical choices?” “Fuck off” the girl started to walk away, then suddenly stopped “Oh, by the way: all these years you’ve been pulling my leg by saying I’m the shortest person you’ve ever known? Get your eyes checked, champ” she nodded in Demri’s direction while looking pointedly at him. “That’s because she doesn’t count – she’s like some kind of nymph” “Oh, wow, a nymph” Sara kept her deadpan face but seemed to stress the last word “And that makes me a…?” “... a person with dwarf ancestry, no doubt about it” “I hope you choke on one of those stupid pretzels you made Layla buy” she cut it short and made her way to a group of people from where Demri was calling her. “Hey, girl! I’ve been meaning to ask you: what sign are you? ‘Cause I have a faint idea of what you might be, but I wanna make sure I haven’t lost my touch” “Aquarius, what about you?” “I knew it! We’re neighbour signs, I’m a Pisces and I simply adore Aquarius people” Demri grinned enthusiastically, then looked at the others “They’re so full of knowledge and different interests, they always show you a point of view you would have never thought to see from, they-” “Ok, ok, enough with this astrology bullshit” Stone interrupted her, having apparently joined the group “We get it, you really like playing the little witch but cut us some slack, please” “Hey, it’s not bullshit! The planets are actually involved in shaping our personalit-” “Yeah? Then why Chris and I were born on the same day but he’s like that and I’m like this?” “I guess you can blame genetics for that” Sara blurted out, making Layne chuckle loudly enough to get the stink eye from the guitarist. “... that’s because you both have Sun in Cancer but were born in two completely different years, so all the other planets and signs are different too! It’s not so hard to get it, Stoney – this must be the hundredth time I’m explaining it to ya” the other girl didn’t miss a beat, and Sara could have kissed her then and there for the way she had just handed Stone’s ass to him – his embarrassed shitface was priceless. “So… how does this work? How can you actually know which planet is in which sign?” Chris seemed to show genuine interest about the topic, and Demri gave him a radiant grin. “Well, beside the birthdate you also have to take into account the time and birthplace you were born… the latitude and longitude and all those things, and you have to do some calculations to figure out the results, but you use some printed tables to help you with that” she sighed “I knew I had to bring my manual here! It’s old so the tables aren’t up to date, but they would have been good enough for our birthdates… fuck my life” “Hey, I’ve got one huge book that Layla gave me for my last birthday – if I’m not mistaken, the tables there go until 2020… I could lend it to you a few days so you can xerox the pages you need and then we could meet someplace so you can give it back to me? What do you say?” Sara didn’t have to wait for an answer because the other girl had literally jumped on her and was hugging her tightly. “You’re the best Aquarius I’ve ever met! God, I love you, you crazy, beautiful people” “I take it you approve, great” Sara chuckled “Just lemme go in my room to see where I put it – the sooner I start to look for it, the sooner you’ll be able to shed some light upon these amateurs’ miserable lives” She shot a cheeky wink in Demri’s direction and then proceeded to make her way to her room. <Who would have thought to find a fellow astrology enthusiast right here? I have to concede to Layla that, after all, giving this party wasn’t such a bad idea…> The girl smiled to herself: the day was reaching its end but it looked like it wasn’t going to be an entire failure – not something she would have expected after what had happened in the afternoon. She finally opened the door, a hand already going to flick the room’s light on, and when she turned she stood petrified. Apparently, there already were a couple of people on her bed: a girl with a blonde bob was straddling a guy – at least, the hands that were struggling to unclasp her bra seemed to belong to a man. The confirmation came when the hidden figure stuck his head out and revealed himself to be none other than Jeffrey Allen Ament. “Oh – I’m so-sorry, I’ll just go… don’t let me disturb the two of you” she muttered as stiffly as she could, then mustered all her strength and bolted out of the room.    

♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️

The ice cubes in the drinks Layla had been holding in her hands were melting. She had fixed two more for Eddie and her but hadn’t approached the singer yet – and not because she couldn’t find him.  There he was, sitting on the couch, totally absorbed in a conversation with Matt Lukin, who was also sharing a joint with him.  Layla found herself fantasizing about what the hell those two could be talking about, whether they were having a deep philosophical debate or they were just trying to answer age-old questions like “What do teeth taste like?”, “Which armrest at the movie theater is yours?”, “Do pets name their owners?”, “Is the S or the C silent in SCENT?” The girl realized her drinks were warm and downed them both, hoping they would make her more talkative. Right after that she went to grab two beer cans from the fridge and walked through the people at the party up to Eddie at a moderately fast pace.  Eddie saw her coming towards him with some anticipation and just smiled at her. “And that’s why it’s called sand, I swear to god” Lukin pointed out as she was in front of her. “And why is that?” Layla asked and Matt shot her a glance and sighed, as if she was asking a question with an obvious answer. “Because it’s between the sea and the land, of course”   “Right, I’ve never thought about it!” she said as she handed one beer to Eddie. “What’s up, El? Are you having fun?” Vedder asked her and for a moment she thought that was probably the first time he called her like that: that was how Sara called her. She couldn’t say if it was a good or bad sign but didn’t think too much about it.  “Yeah, the party’s been pretty successful so far… I mean, it didn’t turn into a disaster yet and nothing is on fire in the house, so yeah, everything’s alright” the girl replied and couldn’t help being surprised by the number of words which were escaping her mouth.  <Couldn’t I simply say YES, WHAT ABOUT YOU? I guess it’s the alcohol speaking…> “And how come we say things are on fire while it’s actually fire being on things? Ever wondered about that?” Lukin questioned the two as he snatched the beer can from Layla’s hand “Thank you, darling” “Oh you’re welcome! And no… honestly I’ve never thought about that. Well, Eddie, can you just come with me for a second?” <Smooth, Layla, very smooth> she did a mental facepalm at how obvious she must have sounded. “What did I do?” the singer asked, suddenly alarmed, and Layla giggled and thought that he probably was too stoned to even understand shit. “Haha nothing, I just need you… err, need you for something” she pointed at somewhere vaguely around the hall with her thumb. “Uh ok, sure!” Vedder sprang up from the couch and took a last hit before handing what was left of the joint to Lukin. Layla started walking and gestured for Eddie to follow her. When he did she suddenly felt scared – actually terrified. She hadn’t practiced any speech, she hadn’t practiced anything, she just decided she’d tell him and now she had no idea how to practically do it. “Where are we going?” he talked into her ear as she was slowly walking through the people in the living room. “Uhm… just… DOWN THERE…” she didn’t turn around to answer and thought that yelling over the music was a much better option than finding herself face to face with Eddie just yet. “Are we leaving the house?” Eddie frowned as the two of them found themselves beside the front door of the apartment. “Oh no, I just, I thought of a quiet place, you know? To talk and stuff. And I think it’s quieter, here, don’t you think?” Layla said and knew that talk and stuff was up to her and it was too late to back away now. “It is. I honestly thought you wanted to save me from Lukin’s existential questions”  “Hehe well, also. But I also wanted to talk to you” “Oh. About what?” a million things rushed through Eddie’s mind right then. What if she wanted to tell him she was getting back with her boyfriend? What if it was the opposite? What if it had nothing to do about them at all? What if it was just the solution to her mysterious game… <Yeah, that must be it, stop building your usual castles in the air> “About… about things and… failure, you know?” “Failure? What do you mean?” he asked confused. “I mean… you can fail either if you do things without thinking about them or if you think about things without actually doing them, right?” “Yeah…?” Eddie nodded and squinted at her, trying to guess where she was going with this. “And this is one of those there-are-two-types-of-people things. And I think I belong to the second type, I always did” “Uh-huh” “Like, I’m the one who always thinks about doing or saying stuff but rarely does. I'm that type of failure” “I have to disagree with that” “What?” Layla was surprised but also somehow relieved about Eddie interrupting her, so she could have a few seconds more to figure out what the hell she was talking about and where she was heading with all this nonsense. “You didn’t think too much about crowd surfing at our last show, well, not during our set but… I mean, you’re thoughtful and all but sometimes you’re capable of such impetuous acts. And you’re everything but a failure” Layla didn’t know if she was more surprised at what Eddie thought of her or for the fact he could use the word impetuous while high.  “Well, I wish I was more impetuous in everyday life and not just at rock concerts”  “Why are you telling me this?” “It’s… it’s just Mike’s fault!” “Mike?” “Yeah, we were talking about New Year’s resolutions and stuff like that” “Do you wanna know what my resolution is?” Eddie asked, still suspicious about the whole conversation. <So is that what it’s all about? New Year’s small talk?> “Yes, please”  “Well… my resolution for 1991 is… to record this album and not to suck too much, to finally try and make an actual living of this thing that everybody in my family calls a hobby, you know? To play as many shows as I can. And not be fired by Stone” Eddie said and he wanted to add Kiss you to the list but he wasn’t intoxicated enough to say that out loud. “Oh well, that’s a very interesting bunch of resolutions” “What about yours? Being more impetuous and…?” “And…” <And tell you that I’ve been thinking about you, a lot. I think about you even when you’re right there with me. Like, I’m even thinking about you right now. Basically I always think about you. But not in a creepy way. It’s not like I’m listening at your door all the time. I’ve actually done it only once. Or twice. It’s not like I check the time when you get back home at night when I’m casually awake. Because it’s not like I stay awake on purpose waiting for you when you’re out at night. It’s definitely not like I picture your face while listening to your tape when you’re not around. It’s not like I listen to that cassette all the fucking time or anything. Well, to the casual observer of my thoughts it may look like I’m kinda creepy, like I’ve been thinking of you in a marginally creepy way… Oh my god, why am I telling you this? Wait, I’m not actually telling you! It’s all in my head so… nevermind> “... and get my master’s degree and find a real job. And get back into swimming” <See? I’m totally not thinking about you at all> “That’s cool”  “Well, I used to be a pro. I can’t be a pro anymore, I don’t wanna be, I just wanna do it more. I just love being in the water” “I see. I love that too” Eddie agreed and came closer as Layla backed up until she had her back against the door. At the same time, without knowing, they were both thinking about being in the water together. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re gonna reach all your goals. If the record is half as good as the demo, then it’ll be huge” Layla snapped out of her water fantasy, while out of the corner of her eye she spotted an ocean blue sparkly blur pushing its way through the living room and running across the hallway behind Eddie’s back. “Wow, well, thank you” the guy was inches away from her but she was now focused on her friend, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. <What the fuck is happening?> “... I gotta pee” “Huh?” “Yeah, gotta go. It’s almost midnight so… see you next year, hahaha” she nervously added and walked away, just like that, leaving a confused Eddie staring at the front door.  

♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️

“Seems like she’s conjuring that book directly from Mars” Stone dead-panned: it had been a while ever since he had seen Sara going into her room. This time Layne didn’t laugh at him but thanks to his remark – to his wounded ego’s relief – and had instantly gained a slap on the nape provided by his girlfriend. “The more time passes, the more insufferable you become, Stoney” Demri huffed “It’s like you have some kind of biological need to pester anyone who has the misfortune of being on your way-nevermind! My ally has come out of the cave unscathed!” she added, after seeing the other girl finally exiting the room. Stone turned again and there she was, striding through the hallway like some sort of acid-tripped Starry Night. “Huh, looks like her treasure hunt didn’t go well” Layne remarked, noticing how her hands were empty; furthermore, she kept on walking without sparing their group a single glance until she disappeared from their view. “Annnnnd she’s gone” Chris clicked his tongue and raised his glass high in some sort of toast to Sara. “She’s gone but the real question is: where is she going?” Staley looked alternatively at his girlfriend, Cornell and Gossard, the latter remaining suspiciously silent. “And why?” Chris added after taking a sip. “Why? Well, given the expression on her face and the fact she didn’t seem to give a shit about us or the rest of the world, I think it’s pretty obvious she’s upset for something… or someone” Demri pointed out “But that could be just my stupid Pisces intuition talking, don’t mind me” <Tsk, it doesn’t take an astrologist to tell that the girl’s fucking mad> Stone thought but it wasn’t until he spotted a very well-known person in the corner that it all clicked in his mind.  When he saw Jeff rushing into the hallway, looking around, followed by a blonde girl who was talking to him while fixing her shirt, it all started making sense. <That poor excuse for a vertebrate….> the guitarist shook his head and scrubbed his hand across his face in frustration. “I need a drink” he said, excusing himself from the small circle of friends, and apparently walked up into the kitchen. Instead, he made a bee line to wherever Sara went. 

♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️

“Sara? Come on, Sara! What’s up? Just tell me if you’re ok in there” Layla had been knocking on the bathroom’s door for a couple of minutes when Eddie first and Stone soon after showed up behind her. “What’s happening?” the guitarist tried to assess the situation, without mentioning what he had just witnessed. “It’s Sara,” the other guy answered him, while Layla proceeded to increase the knocking’s intensity, hoping to bother the other girl enough to let her into the bathroom “I think she’s not feeling good” “Oh – you think it has something to do with the food? Or maybe there are too many people in here and she felt dizzy...” Stone kept on feigning ignorance about the real cause of the girl’s distress. “I don’t know, it could be? Layla and I just happened to see her run in this direction and decided to follow her to see what we could do, but she doesn’t seem to be willing to cooperate with us” “And can you tell us what are you doing here, Stone?” Layla huffed, upset because her best friend still had to answer to her pleas to open the door “The less people we are, the more chances we have to make her feel a bit better” “Nothing, I swear I was up to nothing” he raised his hands “I was just going to get myself something to drink when I saw you guys quickly walking in this direction and thought that I should check on you, that’s all”  “What if she… you know… took something and…” Eddie scratched his nape, casually speculating, but Layla and Stone shushed him up almost at the same time. “What? No way, man” “Sara’s not into that stuff. I know what happened. It’s all Jeff’s fault” the girl pointed out and Gossard was surprised to hear that.  <Did she see them too?> he wondered. But if that was the case, he was mostly surprised that Layla would mention it at all.  “Why Jeff? What did he do?” the singer questioned, thinking of another typical round of Sara and Jeff quarrelling and being at each other’s throat. Eddie thought maybe Jeff could have gone too far this time. “I told him to go to Pike Place Market but I bet he didn’t!” she said, still frantically pounding on the door. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Stone had no idea what was going through the girl’s head and looked at Eddie, who seemed equally perplexed. “It took him little time to do all the grocery shopping I asked him to do for the party. I specifically told him to go to Pike Place to buy seafood but he came back with some low quality prawns he must have bought in some fucking convenience store or something closer to home. Sorry Sara, I should have known better!” the girl added the last sentence directly addressing the bathroom door in a louder voice. Stone laughed internally at Layla’s assumption, whereas Eddie thought she must be really worried if she used the F word. “Well, darling, if it makes you feel any better I’m not hearing retching sounds coming from the inside, so I think the food poisoning hypothesis can be excluded” the guitarist patted her on the shoulder, but she kept on knocking on the door. “I’m sorry to inform you that I won’t feel better until my best friend comes out of the cave! She doesn’t know it yet, but I make a damn good Jack Torrance impression and I’m honestly itching to let her see it” “... ouch, maybe it’s better if I go looking for something to drink for her, the situation is quickly escalating” Eddie added and began to walk in the kitchen’s direction, hoping to find something for himself as well. “Please, let it be some chamomile tea because she doesn’t need any more Godzilla fuel” Stone shouted at him, avoiding a brutal push from Layla, who had heard everything. “Can’t you just stop being sassy for a minute? I’m worried, for real, can’t you see it?” “You don’t need to be, trust me. Sara’s ok, nothing happened, really”  “How can you say that?” the girl felt he was keeping something from her.  “Because I know” “And how do you know?” “Because… Well, I was there so I know what happened. And it was nothing. Sara is just making a scene for nothing – which is typical of her, lemme tell ya” “Why do I feel you’ve got something to do with that nothing that happened?” Layla looked at him suspiciously. <I knew he was up to something the moment he arrived! After all, he was talking to her like five minutes before she fled into the bathroom, it must be Stone’s fault!> “Ok ok, I give in! I’ll confess.” Stone raised his hands as a defeat sign and said the first thing that came up to his mind “We were discussing movies and I just shared one maybe slightly unpopular opinion” “That is…?” “I just said that Martin Scorsese is overrated” “YOU SAID WHAT?” “I mean, he directed a bunch of pretty decent movies but-” “A bunch of decent movies? Did you use these exact words?” Layla now could see why Sara wouldn’t want anything to do with the world outside the bathroom. “Yeah, more or less. Anyway, he did something good but… err, I just find him so boring, you know” “Well I think I can speak on behalf of Sara and say you can stick your unpopular opinion up to your you-know-where and apologize to her, Martin and the movie industry” she folded her arms and started tapping her toe as if she was actually waiting for apologies. “And that was what I was expecting, I was expecting her to tell me to fuck off as usual but she just up and left. Maybe she’s in a bad mood” Stone shrugged and silently prayed for the girl to believe his bullshit. “Yeah, she’s been in a weird mood all day” Layla recalled her friend disappearing the whole afternoon and then reacting strangely during their drinking game. “I’ll apologize to her” “Good. Just do it” “But… I can’t do it if you stay here” “Hahaha and why? Are you shy all of a sudden?” “It’s hard for me, you know” “Are you like the poor man’s version of the Fonz? Who can’t physically say I’m sorry?” “Sort of…” “I don’t know if I can leave you and Sara alone, can I trust you?” she sincerely asked. “Oh for fuck’s sake, sure you can! I’m not Jeff” Stone retorted and his remark had multiple meanings but Layla could only grasp one of them, the most obvious one. “Ok, come on Sara, tell this guy off and get out of here! It’s almost midnight!” she addressed her friend again with one last weak knock on the bathroom door and then went back into the living room. “Scout, the coast is clear… now you can come out” Stone had waited for Layla to disappear before addressing again the door; there was silence, when finally a croaky voice came from inside the bathroom. “... that makes you Boo Radley, I suppose” The guitarist smiled to himself: “I guess it does” “I appreciate the sentiment but I just wanna stay alone” “And monopolize the bathroom for the whole evening? Nuh-uh, missy, I won’t all-” “Stoney, what are you doing here, talking with the bathroom door?” a wild McCready appeared out of thin air, looking at his bandmate in a mildly concerned way. “Just trying to find out if it’s made of oak or pine” “Well, try to get an answer really soon because I must go inside!” “Jeez, Mikey, you know you can smoke from the balcony, right? Nobody’s going to call the police” “What did you understand??” Mike grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him “I already did that, we’re talking about another kind of emergency!” “What? You lost your contacts and need to put in another pair?” “I NEED TO SHIT! There, I said it! Are you happy, now???”  “... you could have done it from the start” “That’s what I was trying to do” “... too bad we have another emergency going on, so you should find another suitable place for your crap – literally”  “WHAT THE FUC-” “In your shoes, I wouldn’t get excited… you never know when shit’s about to hit the fan” “Fuck off you and your shitty puns, Stone! Where am I supposed to go??” Mike whined, shifting his weight from one leg to another with little jumps. “I don’t know, you could shit in Jeff’s bass case? Or hidden behind the ficus plants, but pay attention because Elias might still be lurking there…” “I’m going to knock on some apartment doors and the first that opens to me is gonna be the chosen savior!” McCready made his way to the front door, but stopped halfway “Don’t think I’m gonna forget how merciless you’ve been with me, I’m having mine served cold” “Hope you’re not talking about your imminent masterpiece, Cready…” “FUCK OFF, STONE” and, thus said, the victim ran outside the VedderAment residence.  Gossard let out a huge breath of relief, then turned again towards the door: “Now, where were we?”