#springtime at the lonely mountain

[legolasbadass]

Prince Thorin for @lathalea

This painting is inspired by a scene from Springtime at the Lonely Mountain, by @lathalea, which you definitely need to check out on AO3 if you haven’t already! 

Finally, they reached another stone door in a wall and passed through it into a cavern that seemed to stretch without end. Ása gasped, taking in the marvellous sight. Steaming pools of different sizes, filled with turquoise water covered most of the floor. The walls of this giant chamber flickered brightly with blue water reflexes that danced all the way to its high ceiling. The misty, warm air smelled refreshing, like minerals. (Springtime at the Lonely Mountain, Chapter 31)

[youcalledmebabe]

my favorite bits of web lore from parachute infantry:

he was a new deal democrat and voted for the first time during the war. “I had to walk almost 2 miles to cast my ballot, but I would have walked 10, if necessary, because this was my first vote—I was 22 in June—and I had always wanted to cast it for Roosevelt, the greatest president we had ever had, and the only one who ever gave the working man a break.”

he describes Doc Roe as having “a warm, brave heart.” has anybody ever considered webroe…? there’s about as much basis for it as webgott, historically speaking 💀

he seemed to have lone wolf tendencies. “Actually, I was quite happy to be on my own. Looking out for myself was something I always liked to do. It was the one thing I could do better than anybody else.” 

he was sooo dramatic. “I should have known better than to dream, for whatever dreams I might have had all ended when I was sixteen, and had run away to Gloucester to ship out on a fishing schooner. The schooners were diesel hulks, so I went back to school. That was the way my dreams always ended. The army was no different.”

noted fan of springtime. “It’s going to be an early spring, I thought, feeling a great relief. Maybe things will be better now; they are always better in the spring.”

believed in/was spooked by the stories of a ghost horse cart following them around the front. “It must be the ghost that’s followed us through Europe, I thought with a shiver, for the sound did not seem wholly real—who would have the nerve to walk a horse drawn wagon along the front in a city under such heavy artillery fire? …Some of the men used to speculate about it. They thought that it was the ghost of a supply cart that had gotten a direct hit, and that the driver was homesick for his old outfit. So every night he’d come back and visit his buddies on the line.” apparently Nixon also believed this… where my ghost story fics at?

allergic to change: “The essence of life is change, not stability, but I can’t get used to it; I want everything to stay the way it is.”

thinks the reason lieb is the way he is is because “he was from the far west.” he and joe actually have very little interaction at all and he doesn’t have much to say about him. Tom Hanks rpf is fine strikes again

was drunk on iced tea and gin all the time at the end of the war

gets so mad about doing a final parade when his points came through that he “was in a mood to bayonet babies and roast both colonels over small fires.” immediately after that says what he “planned for peacock was unprintable.” this is the final time peacock is mentioned… guess they never made up

he really hated the army and the Nazis in a way that I feel like the show dropped by the final episode. like I think the real web would’ve shot the guy on the mountain. but that’s a discussion I’d like to have later

anyway he was smart and funny and a good writer and so full of life and i’m very sad about what happened to him

[ironmandeficiency]

stupid goose

pairing: fíli / hobbit!reader

word count: 2953

summary: a goose followed fili into erebor and refused to leave

a/n: this has taken over my brain

no one knew where that damn demon bird came from. all anyone knew is that when fíli returned from the markets of dale one day, he was trailed by a goose. this goose demanded in very angry honks to be let into erebor right behind the golden prince, and despite every attempt made to shoo the thing outside, the goose remained.

it honked during council meetings, entertained some of the young pebbles that had returned to erebor with their families, and generally caused a disturbance everywhere it waddled. fíli took to naming his new pet trøbbel, and he grew to appreciate the feathered chaos harbinger.

thorin couldn’t stand the damn thing. it would flap and honk and nip at him at the most odd times, namely when he was scolding his nephews. the king under the mountain was halfway convinced that fíli trained it to behave so.

the days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and trøbbel stuck around through it all. he was a common companion, and a very proper one indeed. eventually he learned some semblance of patience; the standard amount of patience in geese was alarmingly similar to the patience of dwarves.

trøbbel definitely lived up to his name, so much so that when bilbo sent word that he was planning a springtime visit to the mountain in a few months’ time, multiple correspondents thought it fit to warn their burglar about the newest addition.

“dear bilbo,

the company is delighted to hear of your pending visit to the mountain! many things have changed for the better since uncle was crowned king (not his temper, unfortunately for us all). everyone is looking forward to seeing you again, though i do carry a warning with this letter.

you see, a few months ago i involuntarily acquired a wild goose as a companion. he made himself known to me after leaving dale one afternoon and rather violently refused to be parted from my side.

this goose is a mighty beast that honks and bites diplomats (dwalin never loved him more than when he nipped at thranduil upon first glance of the elf) and steals food from the plates of those not paying attention. i warn you because trøbbel is very suspicious of new people, and i don’t want you falling victim to his wiles if he finds that you don’t have snacks for him upon arrival.

see you soon,

prince fíli”

bilbo was baffled. he was confuddled, stupefied even. how in yavanna’s green gardens fíli ended up with a goose was beyond his reckoning. the last time he heard of a goose forcing its way into someone’s life in this manner was being told the story of how his parents met when he was a wee fauntling.

it was a somewhat rare phenomenon among hobbits to be found by a goose in such a way. they were said to guide hobbits to their soulmates, the other half of their soul as created by lady yavanna. the goddess had to create an animal stubborn enough to aid her hobbit children in finding their soulmates, one that could easily navigate the hills and rivers of their lands, and the goose was her solution.

even though erebor was no west farthing, bilbo could imagine that any goose worth its tail feathers would find a way to survive in the lonely mountain. and, based on the letter he just read, one has.

taking into consideration the thing’s audacity, that bird of fíli’s is definitely a soulmate goose, and a right bugger at that.

the first thing he now had to do was inform fortinbras of this development. as thain and cousin, bilbo was sure that he could find some sound advice there.

now, if bilbo could figure out how to explain that fíli has a hobbit for a soulmate without putting thorin and balin into their deathbeds, that would be just peachy.

“HONK! HONK HONK!”

“i cannot believe you, tansy!”

“HONK!”

“yeah you better run, you wretched thing!”

tansy the goose had to be the biggest pain in the backside you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something considering the run-ins you’ve had with the bracegirdles.

she followed you to the markets, when you went on walks among the meadows and fields, and even snuck into the washroom to be there when you bathed. in your opinion, it was all a bit too much.

your tansy gave the wizard gandalf a run for his money when it came to disturbing the peace. on days you went to the market, she would follow you and honk all the way at passersby and intimidate them off the dirt path you were on.

she also picked up a very peculiar habit of trying to (and sometimes succeeding to) snag fine jewelry from the booths of dwarrow traveling through from the blue mountains. every time you would turn and see a shiny glint of silver or gold hanging from her beak, your heart would drop to your feet in fear. thus far, the merchants you’ve encountered were very understanding of your feathery thief and harbored no ill will against you as you returned their wares to the tune of an angry goose.

while those situations were mortifying and anxiety-inducing, you’ve reached the end of your rope today. tansy has committed a grievous sin by brutalizing your blackberry patch to the point of there being almost nothing left worth eating and you’ve had it up to your ears with her.

you chased her with a wooden spoon as you ranted about her foul deed and resolved to talk to someone about what to do about tansy the chaos goose. maybe the thain would have some advice?

“uncle! we’ve got a reply from bilbo!” kíli waved the letter in the air excitedly as he barged into his uncle’s chambers.

fíli follows kíli in, rolling his eyes as he snatches the parchment from his brother’s hand. “no, i got a reply from bilbo.”

the golden prince makes no mention of the second page bilbo wrote to him with explicit instructions to keep it to himself. that morsel of information was for him and him alone - well, for him and trøbbel, of course.

“hurry up and read it!”

“i would if you’d stop flapping about like trøbbel!”

in response to being compared to kíli (or maybe just hearing his name), trøbbel honked indignantly.

“dearest fíli,

it pleases me greatly to know that erebor is flourishing under your uncle’s rule. i am most excited to see you all again, especially in the comforts of your home.

while i thank you for your warning, i have some news of my own to share. there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip-“

thorin cut off his nephew, his bright mood upon receiving bilbo’s correspondence immediately clouding over. “he’s bringing a hobbit lass?” the king’s thoughts immediately sour with thoughts of his burglar introducing the company to a spouse wooed by his tales of adventure.

both brothers caught the sudden wave of melancholy that surged through their uncle. his feelings for bilbo were a poorly-kept secret among the company, but there were none who had the courage to call attention to it.

“you’re almost as bad as kee with interrupting me,” fíli chastised before clearing his throat to continue.

“-there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip that shares in your feathered predicament. with the description you gave me of your trøbbel, i’d bet all of my fourteenth share that he’d get along swimmingly with her tansy. she’s a menace, that one.”

“see uncle, you can remove that frown! bilbo isn’t courting anyone back in the shire!” kíli interjected with a small smile and an elbow nudge, hoping to goad thorin back into a good mood.

fíli sighed the sigh of a long-suffering older brother. “this is exactly what i mean when i talk about you interrupting me, kee!”

“but he was sad!”

“and i’m annoyed!”

“boys!”

one word put the squabbling siblings back in line.

“sorry, uncle.”

“do continue, fíli.”

“i send this letter ahead of me from bree. i hope you receive it in proper time so you can prepare the mountain for the impending doom that will be brought upon by two geese occupying erebor.

if you note the bite marks in bottom right corner and the occasional blots of stray ink on the parchment, those are courtesy of tansy. she sends her well wishes along with mine.

your burglar,

bilbo baggins”

thorin looks at trøbbel where he’s squatted directly on top of thorin’s favorite bedpillow like the cruel beast he is. the smug bastard has a wicked gleam in his eye as if he knows he’ll soon have a partner in crime to terrorize the whole mountain alongside.

oh mahal, please watch over this mountain.

erebor was teeming with anticipation, both for the arrival of the famed dragonriddler and for the next act of war from trøbbel. for nigh on three weeks, the royal bird has been eerily well-behaved. this was so out of character that fíli carried his companion to óin in the hopes the healer could figure out what malady had struck his friend.

there was nothing obvious to blame for the sudden silence of the royal bird, so the healer told fíli to watch over his bird and take as good care of him as possible.

he didn’t know much of anything about geese, so he simply opted to treat his companion like kíli when he was sick.

a cozy new bed was constructed, fíli monitored his food, and things seemed to be getting better. trøbbel slowly came back to his regular gremlin self, causing chaos that was mildly tamer than before.

at least the mountain didn’t get too comfortable without his shenanigans, because when bilbo arrived with his companion and their goose, all hell broke loose.

“hmm,” bilbo hummed to himself as he observed tansy sitting demurely on her designated pillow. she’d been oddly calm today, as if she knew where her company was going.

when bilbo explained the significance of tansy’s appearance in your life, you were flabbergasted. the idea of true soulmates was a sweet one yet painfully unrealistic in your eyes, something you read in bedtime stories. but with both bilbo and thain fortinbras’s confirmation that you received a soulmate goose from yavanna, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

then bilbo claimed he knew your soulmate and had fought alongside him against trolls and goblins and orcs and a dragon. he told you that he was rather fond of the dwarves of erebor, and that they were rambunctious and honorable.

but when he spoke of king thorin, the uncle of your soulmate, something was decidedly different from how he spoke of the rest of the company he kept. you could see the way his body visibly relaxed, how his eyes were softer and the appearance of pink on the tips of his ears.

your friend clearly held something more than respect for the dwarf king.

one night around the campfire, you told tansy about your suspicions. for a hooligan goose, she was a rather good conversationalist.

“i think bilbo loves that king of his, tansy.”

“HONK!”

“exactly! that’s what i was thinking!”

tansy honks back in response. living among hobbits, she seemed to pick up on some social etiquettes and right now, it was as if you were pleasantly chatting over afternoon tea.

you pondered what to do about this new development. bilbo was always seen as a bachelor, someone unattainable by shire standards. but just maybe, by the grace of yavanna, he’ll find his love in the heart of a king.

“say tansy,” a soft honk of acknowledgement came from your goose, “when you’re done leading me to my soulmate, can you help bilbo find his?”

in years to come, you will swear by the fact tansy nodded at you that evening by the fire.

“they’re here!”

“bilbo!”

“our burglar has returned!”

in the distance, they could see bilbo making his way towards the front entrance of erebor and unbridled joy swept through the company. how they’ve all missed their burglar in his absence from the mountain.

bard was walking alongside bilbo, who had dismounted from his pony when he entered dale and was guiding him along by the reins. at bilbo’s other side was another hobbit, presumably the lass he mentioned in his letter, and waddling with pride beside them was a goose wearing a red ribbon tied into a neat bow.

fíli made a break for the front gates as soon as the horn announcing bilbo’s arrival echoed through the crisp air. he genuinely missed bilbo and was plenty excited to meet the goose (and the hobbitess) described in his letters.

trøbbel dutifully followed behind his dwarf, waddling just fast enough to keep pace. at first. but in the distance, the royal goose of erebor heard a honk that resonated so deeply in him that he couldn’t dawdle with fíli, he had to go immediately.

his orange webbed feet pitter-pattered on the stone floors with the intensity of oliphaunts and the speed of rhosgobel rabbits, honking all the way. members of the company hollered after the speeding goose but trøbbel paid them no heed, far too focused on his destination.

“oi! trøbbel you mangy beast, get back here!”

“you ain’t beatin’ us to our burglar!”

the dwarves stood no chance at catching him, only following behind him like goslings in a rather lopsided row. apparently, trøbbel was going to beat them.

tansy was going to turn you grey long before your time if she had anything to say about it.

that wild beast of a bird strutted into dale with the attitude of the most pretentious hobbits in the west farthing, catching all sorts of strange looks from the big folk who never beheld such a human-acting animal. she honked and nodded to the growing crowd in greeting. you sighed at her antics but carried on, watching as bilbo’s entire countenance changed the closer he got to his dwarrow.

watching the entrance to the dwarven kingdom grow ever closer, you felt strangely lighter, almost as if you were coming home.

before you knew it, there was a stampede of dwarrow emerging from the front gates headed straight towards you and bilbo, led by a goose. logic told you that they were his friends from the journey, that they missed him more than you could imagine missing anyone.

but then tansy let out a screeching honk unlike anything you’ve ever heard in all your days. she immediately bolted for the feathered line leader, not even the slightest bit worried about being trampled by the pounding feet of dwarrow.

“tansy! tansy! oh you reckless fiend, you’re lucky i didn’t cook you on the way here!”

chasing after her was a terrible idea. instead, you elected to watch from beside your pony and hope for the best.

recalling bilbo’s stories, you could point out a few of his companions. bombur with his braided beard that weaves into itself, nori with the star points atop his head, thorin with his raven-colored hair…

the king of erebor was running like a hooligan towards bilbo at full speed, a wide smile on his face that bilbo led you to believe was a nigh impossible feat.

you nudge your friend with a smile, wondering why his feet weren’t going a mile a minute to reunite with his dwarf. “go to him,” you whispered. this seemed to spur him into action, bilbo making a mad dash for his king.

when thorin caught bilbo in a leaping embrace, their laughter was infectious. even tansy was honking joyously with them, echoed by another bit of loud honking you couldn’t place.

looking over, your tansy was nuzzling with the ereborian goose. they were waddling around each other inquisitively at first, then plopped down to the side of the path to watch the joyous reunion of king and burglar.

within moments, you realized what this meant: your soulmate was on his way. oh green gardens, you weren’t ready!

meeting your prince soulmate now, after a ragged journey across middle earth while covered in yavanna-knows-what, had your nerves vibrating with tension. your hands were clammy, eyes flitting around to spot him based on bilbo’s descriptions.

“trøbbel! oi you bugger, how dare you run ahead!”

you heard one voice clearly through the thicket of joyous bustling, and the entire world came to a screeching halt.

your soulmate wore a smile that could have blinded you, and his laughter put you in a tailspin. in the golden light of morning, his hair shone like the wheat fields you grew up playing in.

you had to be closer to him without another moment’s delay.

without your permission, your feet began to carry you into the growing crowd of dwarrow towards fíli. part of you wanted to dig your heels into the dirt because you didn’t know what to say to him! how did one even begin to introduce themselves to the person that the gods made to be their other half?

turns out you didn’t have to answer that question on your own.

in the time he spent on the road with bilbo, fíli learned quite a few pieces of important information about hobbits. they valued their food and their gardens, and placed great importance on flowers and their meanings. so when presented with his hobbit soulmate, he knew exactly how to make a good first impression.

presenting you a few sprigs of purple lilacs, he approached his one with a charming smile. “i imagine you’re starving from the trip here, love. would you like me to fetch you a warm meal straight from the royal kitchens?”

[vennilavee]

iv. the damned

blood&pearls mlist

wc: 2.1k

summary: you venture out to the land, only to witness fire, ash, and blood raining from the sky.

warnings: active cannibalism

If you listen closely, you can hear the gentle, pale winds in the mountains speaking to each other and the branches of the trees whispering. The stillness of the creeks and the bubbling of the hot springs is a melodious charm to your sensitive ears. You close your eyes and lay your head in the water, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on your sunkissed skin. Rose petals float on the surface of the water next to your arms and your legs, brushing against your skin teasingly.

The fairies do not understand why there are so many roses and red rose petals in the water recently. Roses are not native to Lord Sukuna’s domain, they mumble in confusion to each other. Roses would sooner die than be in full bloom in the demon’s presence. 

You only laugh and dip your head underwater.

Little do they know that roses have been growing in your lake ever since you had made this a home. It looks vastly different from when you had first arrived. Dull yellows and greens were now lively and vibrant in rich hues. A tiny waterfall sits just beyond the lake, tucked away behind the tall trees with unwavering leaves. You go there to be alone and to wash your hair.

You have not thought of the vast, lonely ocean much since your arrival. You have not thought of home. Perhaps there is a gnawing feeling of uncertainty settling in your bones- have you made the correct decision? Do your parents- your family- despise you for your selfishness in leaving all you have ever known to live on the edge of your childish dream?

Your father always said you looked at the world with color in your eyes. To avoid seeing the bleakness for what it was. But in truth, darkness was all that you did see. You have dreamed of yellows and reds and purples beyond the depths of the ocean since you were young. You have dreamed of choking on the air and touching the hazy sun with your bare hands.

You dip your toes into the warm water. It now has a rosy purple hue from the flushed lotus flowers growing in your lake. More fairies have made their way to your little oasis, making a home within the blossoming tree branches and the blooming flower petals in the plentiful lush green bushes surrounding the trees.

It smells sweet. You cannot quite place what the scent is- your nose is only used to salt and the sand. The sweetness reminds you of a place you do not know. Perhaps a place that you could know.

The fairies tell you that it is the season of springtime. Milky white, amber and burgundy flowers bloom all around you in bursts of rebirth. It is almost too cloying to your eyes, the sudden appearance of so many different shades that you have never once seen before. There have been moments where you must dip your head underwater to adjust to the sharp shards of sunlight. 

But as always, the warmth of the world draws you out like a moth to a flame. The mountain lingers in the distance, perched far from your eyes as you wonder when the four-eyed demon will pay you a visit again.

You come to learn quickly that the sunshine fatigues you. While the sun is in its peak hours, you are coaxed into sleep by the bushes of roses under the willow tree. The fairies watch over you as you rest, only for you to come alive at night.

Sleep corrals you deep into your floating dreams, filled with striking red eyes and morose laughter at your attempts at climbing the mountain that pierces the clouds looming over your head.

Something is calling you towards the distant mountain, beckoning you closer and closer. Just for you to get a taste of the crisp air that should poison your lungs. 

Your father’s words echo in your head, muffled and warped when you dip your head under the water to gather your thoughts. You were born to live and die by the sea. The voice is loud in the water, consuming your own quiet voice. How can you be quiet in your own mind?

In your own mind, where you should be your most powerful. In your own mind, where you should reign free. Untethered to your supposed birthright. Untethered to what destiny has in store for you.

Is it truly destiny if it is the beliefs of your mother and father?  Or is it blind obedience?

Poking your head above the water once more, the voices seem to quell and dim to nothing more than a whispered nuisance. You gasp when you suddenly see grey and black clouds of air escape the base of the mountain in sharp puffs.

Smoke. The fairies have told you what smoke and fire is. Where there is smoke, there will be fire and Lord Sukuna fervently loves his fire.

You are meters and meters away from the base of the mountain, but the caustic scent of the smoke still makes you cough violently. 

Ropes of water glide off of your body in rivulets as you rise, and you take one step in front of the other towards the sure carnage that awaits you.

Only an absolute fool would willingly walk into the foray of death. Perhaps Sukuna was right- you are just a naive, foolish girl in a world of men and gods who will do anything to steal power from each other.

It did not take you long to find the source of the smoke and the fire. Though the heat is painful as it kisses your skin, you venture further into the forest. Corpses of women and children are littered along the forest floor, while the men have been beheaded or left for dead, moaning and bleeding from their guts.

You stop in your tracks and blink curiously at the women and children piled on top of each other. It's almost too grisly for you to stomach. Limbs lay scattered carelessly, as if these pieces of flesh belong to a toy and not a formerly breathing, talking, living human.

But what stops you is the darkness radiating from these corpses’ chests. Only a thread holds the dead skin together. A gaping hole and dried scarlet blood sits where a heart should be beating. Instead of a heartbeat, you see a black hole seemingly pulsating in time with your breaths.

What had these people done for Ryomen Sukuna to kill them so brutally and cast their entire village ablaze?

If there is one thing you know about the demon king, it is that he despises ungratefulness. There are no remains left of this community, only ashes and spilt blood. Death and decay tickles your nose, settling on top of your arms like a warm embrace.

You have seen this before. Once in a far away dream, perhaps. 

Despite blood raining from the sky and the demon king himself perched at the top of a manmade throne of skulls, you continue on. 

You must be interrupting a sacred, intimate moment as you witness him hold the still beating heart in his hands as if it is nothing but the apple of his eye. He looks at it for a brief moment, almost admiring the veins connecting and intersecting, only to spit out into nothingness. 

He exudes power in the way he cares so little for the frail, beating heart in his strong hands. Sukuna opens his mouth and devours it without a second thought. It is a rough motion, one filled with callousness for the sanctity of life. Sukuna meets your eyes with an intense gaze as he swallows and licks his lips in delight.

You shiver.

His eyes blaze as they thrum with raw power and bloodlust drips from his irises, but you cannot look away. His kimono is stained scarlet, surely not of his own blood. Blood dribbles from his mouth, pooling at his chin and smearing onto his white kimono. 

“I wonder how a virgin mermaid’s heart would taste?” Sukuna’s voice booms as your ears twitch. You grimace.

“I am no mermaid,” you reply easily, stepping over the corpses to be closer to him. Blood stains his hair, his nails, his chest… You try not to look below the opening of his robe. It is fruitless, however, when he rips his robe off of his own massive body.

“Would you allow me a taste?” he says, barely over a whisper, but you hear him clearly, “They all taste the same now. Nothing tastes as delectable as the first one.”

“No, I would not allow you a taste,” you reply easily. Sukuna would savor your salty blood on his tongue and feel it drip down his throat. If only you would just say yes, a yes full of resounding, yearning.

“Ah,” Sukuna says ruefully, “One of these days you will allow me a taste of your precious little flower.”

“Perhaps if you are deemed worthy of such a delight,” you murmur, “For now, you will have to relegate yourself to the humans, I suppose.” You clear a path for yourselves to reach the top of the throne easily, a smooth concrete path for your ease of walking.

Sukuna is not surprised when you stand close enough to touch his bloodstained skin and twirl your fingers to gather the moisture in the air and clean him.

“What a mess,” you drawl as you take his chin in your hands and rub his mouth of the congealed scarlet, “Did you not learn any manners in this lifetime?”

“I do not want to hear about manners from a foolish girl of the water,” Sukuna says, but makes no move to push you away. Your sharp nails pierce his skin but he does not flinch.

“Well, you would just kill anyone else who attempted to tell you so,” you say smugly and run your wet fingers through his mottled hair.

He does not comment, only allowing your hands to roam across his chest and rub the dried, clotted blood away. The mouth on his stomach purrs in delight only for you to smack its eager tongue away.

“Manners must not be very common for you land dwellers,” you muse, pulling your hands away only for the lips on his abdomen to protest.

“I take as I please,” he says in a tone of finality. You say nothing and look over your shoulder at the carnage that the four-armed demon has laid on the forest floor. Far away screams of anguish pierce the night air and coil together with the smoke rising from the trees, billowing out into the sky and into nothingness. Your eyes soften at the macabre remains of the village but you tug his ear painfully, as if to wordlessly reprimand him.

Sukuna does not stop you when you step away from him and from his impromptu throne of jagged edges and bones. He does not stop you when you twirl your hands to attempt to put out the fires surrounding him, or when you turn on your heel to leave him behind and return to your self-made oasis.

It has been no more than six nights since you had shown your face in the forest to unveil your curiosity of Sukuna on his gory throne made of blood and bones. He has not seen you since that night, and he has no desire to visit your silly little pond with your silly little flowers.

Uraume grows wary of the king’s impatience. He had insisted- no demanded- for new seeds to be planted by the lake behind his shrine. The same small body of water had laid barren for years and years. It is unlike Sukuna to suddenly grow interest in what he had previously referred to as a “wasteland” and a “place for only maggots and rotted corpses”.

And yet, Uraume sits on their haunches, patting down soil and ensuring that the land is pleasing to the king’s eye. Or rather, pleasing to your eye.

The seeds will only take a few days to bloom, but they wonder if you will make an appearance. Sukuna seems to be throwing tantrums in the shrine for no good reason- his robes being folded incorrectly, his fruit not being cut the way he desires, the floor mats not being properly placed.

Truly, Uraume thinks the king is irritated by your lack of presence despite all of the work that he is putting into making the lake presentable. Flowers, trimmed bushes, pebbles lining the edge of the small pond… Even freshly planted trees to provide shade for when you would sunbathe. All for seemingly nothing.

Uraume scoffs. Ryomen Sukuna is many things, but reason clearly escapes him. His courting rituals fail to entice you in any regard, and Sukuna is not a man who fails.

tags: kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @helenas-revenge

[lathalea]

20 Questions for Writers

It took me a while, but here we go! Thank you for tagging me @fishing4stars and @i-did-not-mean-to 💚

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Let me see... 49 🙈

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 682,524 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien - mostly The Hobbit, LOTR and The Silmarillion.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Please check fic rating and tags before reading! 📖 The Writer's Month 2021 ficlet collection 📖 Springtime at the Lonely Mountain 📖 All Is Fair in Love and Trade 📖 Strong 📖 Third Time's the Charm

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, I'm very happy to interact with my readers, and it doesn't matter if it's a long comment or a lovely bunch of chaotic keysmashes, I love to reply to them all!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? The first chapter of The Weeping Willow. I was crying while writing it. it was meant as a standalone story but my amazing readers convinced me to write the second chapter to make the angst more bearable 😇

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think it's How to Kiss a Fairy, a fluffy and cute fic I wrote together with @avaria-revallier.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, it has never happened so far. The closest to "hate" comments I got is reading loving messages like "how dare you treat these characters this way" (meant in a positive way) - I absolutely adore them!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Some tender vanilla, some is more kinky. I'm mostly into m/f and f/f.

10. Do you write crossovers? Rarely, mostly one-shots. My weirdest ones so far were The Hobbit crossovers with Three Musketeers, Snow White, and Star Wars.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. It's The White Raven, not an easy thing to translate, I believe.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! It's so much fun! Here are two fics I can think of at the moment: How to Kiss a Fairy (see above) and Scattered Through Time co-written with @joyfullynervouscreator

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Canon ship? Wait, only one? How am I supposed to choose? Let me give you three ships for the price of one: Eowyn x Faramir, Galadriel x Celeborn, Bofur x Bilbo.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Listen, I want to finish all 398274238765723866782354768 of my WIPs, okay? Just please don't ask me when...

16. What are your writing strengths? I have no idea, I'm constantly doubting myself. Maybe... Storyline planning and worldbuilding?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Do you have an hour? No? I thought so. My biggest one is laziness. And I'm not too good with dialogues. And descriptions of clothing worn by the characters. And... finishings the fics I started.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As English is not my native language, I'm doing it every day :D Writing dialogue in elvish or dwarven languages is a great tool for a writer! Among other things, adds specific flavour to stories and I really like reading it. From time to time, I add some of it to my stories too.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Every single fic I wrote is my favourite - although each of them for different reasons. What are your favourites?

Tagging (no pressure): @middleearthpixie @crazytxgradstudent @asgardianhobbit98 @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

@sotwk @joyfullynervouscreator @ettelene @heilith and everyone else who would like to join!

[slowparts]

unfortunately i think my annual springtime depressive episode is here. fortunately i have obligations to work n friends so i cant burrow under a mountain of blankets and be lonely and sad the whole time. the main thing im trying to manage now is not backsliding - i dont have to be good, i dont have to try harder - all ive gotta do is tread water. ive done it many times before and i can do it again. i just dont. want to

[medlilove]

I can't sleep.

I'm waiting for it to come, my period will be here in the morning. I'm hot and cold and my eyes are burning.

Lord of the Rings has always been special to us. High fantasy, with a gentle nature and ancient trees. Like the green man. D is the green man. With mountains and valleys and green grass like we have here in England. The greenest grass...

It's hard to be patriotic. When you are English being patriotic is... complicated. But Tolkien's works, can make you a little proud, in a way. Making you feel connected to your land and trees and grass, the old things. Some pre English England.

Mountains Gandalf!!

That's Ds favourite line to say.

To see the lonely mountain again!

Ds mum died. His mum died, not even a month ago. The words keep repeating in my mind. Ds mum died. It was a slow and sad cancer. It's always sudden.

The grey rain curtains of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond a far green country under a swift sunrise.

I keep repeating these words in my head like a prayer. Like some mantra that will save us. The way Tolkien spoke about death, about passing on to a better place, he described England.

I'm just so sad. I nearly cried while chopping tomatoes earlier. Thinking about how we all cried on Saturday night, or Sunday morning, really.

It's on Thursday, the funeral. We are all out of our depth. We are all lost. I can see it in their eyes. There's nothing any of us can do about the journey he is now on.

I don't know what to do, I wish I was asleep.

Order and Chaos is stuck in my head. By Lady Maisery, y'know?

Gather 'round, for time is turning / This part of my story is closing / As the hour draws near, I wonder, not fear, at the journey that I will be taking

I might be in the beat of a wing / I might be in the rush of a river / But as year turns year I'll always be here through springtime and wintery weather

_

White shores, and beyond a far green country under a swift sunrise.

Her name was Dawn.

The sun is rising.

🌄🌅

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day twenty-nine: last day in paradise prompt: body worship (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: alex/jeff (like blood from a stone) also on ao3 💋

California was the kind of place where one needed a car to get anywhere, but the beauty in this was that only about a couple of hours stood in between us over in the Bay Area and a place like Lake Tahoe. Since Chuck and I had ascended to royalty, and Chuck himself had gone off to head a supergroup with Zetro as well as a couple of other royals, I was eager to leave the house for a couple of days and head on over to the mountains for a weekend alone. I had told him about what our part-time chef had done to me with that decadent food and he couldn’t help but laugh all the while: not at the little belly slightly hanging above the waistband of my pants, but rather at the fact that that would happen. Well, it did, and I had an extra thirty pounds on my body.

After I had been fattened up a bit by Chuck and all of his delicious food, I needed to lose it. Of course, it was easier said than done because it was so delicious and I couldn’t stop eating it, and moreover, I was headed up to Tahoe by myself. I figured that a bit of hiking around that vast lake would help out with the extra full curvature all around my waist.

When I took my seat behind the wheel and I put the belt around my waist, I glimpsed down at myself and let a frown cross over my face. An extra thirty pounds and it all weighed itself down on me. I set a hand upon there and I could feel that soft flesh under my shirt, a little bump on my waist that rode itself upon my hipbones. I had been slim and trim this whole entire time and yet I let myself be overcome by my own desires.

I sighed through my nose and I started up the car. Chuck had promised me a couple of cars with drivers somewhere down the line, perhaps when he and Zetro returned from the business at the helm: but for the time being, I drove myself out of our neighborhood and that little corner of California due south of the Bay Area. I kept my sunglasses on over my face and my hair down over my shoulders.

It was another warm day there in the northern part of the Central Valley, and one where I rolled down the window and I let my curls sprawl out over my shoulders and the upper part of my back. I kept my left arm rested upon the top part of the car door and my fingers curled around the rim of the steering wheel.

There was a point in which I drove through all of those interchanges on the outskirts of Sacramento where I had completely forgotten about my belly and my little weight problem. The late morning sun shone down over me and the car, the air smelled fresh despite it being the outskirts of the city, not a lot of traffic on the road before me given it was the middle of the week: and yet, it wasn’t until I meandered around a big curve when I could feel it weighing me down in the seat.

At that point, I realized that I could not get to Tahoe sooner. The road up to the southern edge of the lake was a long and lonely one, but one that I could take without a second though.

As I made my way up the hill, and the vegetation around me switched over from that scraggly brush to tall pine trees that towered over me, I could feel the chill of fall in the air. Though it was the middle of springtime, the winter and the autumn never really left this part of California. I made my way around a bend and a gust of wind from the mountain summits sent a shiver down my spine.

But I persisted through those alpine woods before I finally couldn’t take it anymore and I rolled up the window. It was right then I wished that I had brought at least a sweater with me.

All the while, a small part of me told me to forget it, to go to the nearest lodge and help myself to some clam chowder and a big fresh roll of bread straight out of the oven followed by some blueberry cobbler, but I came up to the lake for a reason.

At the same time, clam chowder sounded so delicious. Clam chowder with a couple of matzo balls, straight out of the oven. I figured that would be delicious rather than a roll of French bread.

The mere thought of it made me hungry. But I shook my head and fought back against it as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I hadn’t eaten since early that morning when I first woke up before the sunrise, but that was about it, however. I needed to lose that weight. I needed to lose that weight as I leaned over the steering wheel a bit.

The road before me made its way into a vast canyon and I could feel the springtime returning through the Plexiglas: when the pavement straightened out before me again, I rolled down the window again.

I was greeted by the fresh smell of the pine along the sides of the road: I peered up to the pure clear blue sky, and even with the lack of clouds, I expected some rain to fall at some point when I reached the lake’s southern shore.

The smell of the pine, though so wooden and all too natural for me, only made me hungrier. Hunger met with the desire to work out on the hills and shed that extra weight. Hunger met with that desire plus the fact that I was driving along a four-lane road on my way to the lake’s Nevada side.

The road wound its way around the bend and I beheld the initial view of the lake there before me at the left.

Those vast blue waters that stretched out before me. The rugged tops of the mountains that rose up above the whole entirety of the shoreline. Every so often throughout the trees, I spotted some of those high-dollar houses peppered along the hillsides. Though I had become royalty, the mere sight of them made me recoil back into the seat a bit.

I was hungry in every which possible and yet I needed to overcome it all. If I overcame it all, I could come out the other side with it all. I could reward myself after the fact.

But when I made my way around another bend to a small neighborhood, I almost couldn’t take it a second longer. I had to stop and catch a breath of fresh air and stretch my legs.

I reached the rim of the neighborhood and I noticed that I was about a mile away from the heart of South Lake Tahoe. A whole mile away, at least that was from my perspective. I could climb out and lock up the car and take that walk to the first restaurant near the closest side of town.

I passed a gigantic stone house with a black roof and a vast driveway lined with a wrought iron fence and I thought I was going to pass out right then and there in the seat. I pulled over and I killed the engine. I leaned over the rim of the steering wheel and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

Though I hadn’t moved around much in that seat, my heart hammered inside of my chest from the lack of food in my belly.

I opened my eyes and I leaned back in the seat with my hands down in my lap for a moment. I gazed up at the top of the windshield and I parted my lips all to better breathe.

I wondered if I walked around outside of the car there, I could feel a little better about myself and I could bring back my strength.

I rolled up the window and I climbed out of the driver’s seat. I locked up the car and I let out a low whistle and ran my fingers through my curls before I made my way up the road towards the center of town. I peered over my shoulder for one final look at my car.

My stomach ached and I brought my hands up to better comfort myself. But it wasn’t enough, though. When I walked along the side of the road, between the lane there and the low evergreen hedges, I could feel my knees quivering with each and every step.

“Alex?”

I lifted my head and I looked right across the road to find Jeff, that boy about my age who sat next to me in most of my classes, perched upon a bright red bicycle and with a black helmet rested upon his head.

“Hey,” I called out to him and I grimaced at the sickly hungry feeling inside of me. I hoped that he wouldn’t see it on my face as he looked both ways and then rode on over to me.

“What’re you doing up here?” I asked him.

“I came up here to have some time alone,” he replied. He hopped off of his bicycle and unfastened the strap underneath his chin: he locked eyes with me for a short moment, albeit a moment long enough to see my face for himself.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him.

“You look pale,” he pointed out. “You look like you’re about to fall ass over teakettle down the rocks here. You feelin’ okay?”

“I feel pale,” I said, out of breath. “I feel pale and gross. I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

He gaped at me.

“Why?” he demanded. “You’ve got to eat, Alex—you know that. I know that and I don’t even have to tell you.”

“I’m just—I'm too fat,” I told him.

“What?” Jeff was stunned. “You’re not fat, Alex.”

“Yes, I am! Look at this poochy gut on me.” My hands on my waist and I gave myself a little shake: I could feel it there, taunting me. Jeff nudged my hands out of the way and he looked on at me from the side: the fabric of my shirt pressed against my waist and he showed me a little smile.

“It’s a cute little tum, Alex. Really, I can’t even see it unless I really look at you like how I'm doing right here. Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“But I feel so round, though,” I confessed with my arms folded over my chest. I let out a low whistle and I thought about sitting down right there on the side of the road; Jeff stood before me and gave my belly a little pat.

“Come with me,” he beckoned me.

“Why?”

“Come with me,” he repeated. “Come with me—I'll take you to get something to eat and fill up your belly. You look like you’re about ready to faint.”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” I confessed to him.

“I don’t, either,” he said. “Although, there is a lot of comfort in having someone take care of me, though. Lar and I are best friends and I feel like when we get hitched, he’ll be the one in charge. He’s like you, a student of Satriani. He knows how to lead and shit.”

“Really?” I was stunned by that, especially when I felt the opposite about Larry. I had remembered seeing him in the guitar lessons with Joe Satriani and he had always lingered in the back of the room with his attention pointed to himself. Perhaps there was in fact more than met the eye with him, and he had grown away from his milquetoast ways from back then.

“Yeah, really. But I have the same feeling of wanting to lead, too. And I want you to come with me into town here and have some lunch with me. I was about to head on back, anyway.”

I let out a low whistle and ran my fingers through my hair once again.

He adjusted the strap on his helmet and closed it again; my legs shook as I climbed over the back of his bicycle seat. It felt so good to lean up against his back, even though I didn’t have my helmet on over my head. I leaned my head against his back and I kept my hands pressed onto his hips all to steady myself.

There was no denying it: I had to be fed. I was so hungry.

Jeff wheeled the bicycle around and he pedaled up the road. I thought of closing my eyes but I knew that if I did, I would not have that lovely view of the lake waters and the mountaintops which towered up to the blue sky. I also worried about falling off of the back of the bike seat.

It was a whole mile before the center of town, too. It felt like a whole entire mile.

We passed by the welcome signs to the south shore followed by a few trees and that was when I lifted my head for a view of the town before us. Jeff brought us to the nearest café to that side of the town and I could already taste the cobbler and the clam chowder.

It felt like a hallucination as Jeff led me inside of there and we indulged, and out there on the porch in the sun no less.

I had very little memory of it as I devoured into my food. But then my memory returned to me once I had already eaten about half of my big piece of blueberry cobbler; it was then I realized that it was blueberry rather than gooseberry.

I didn’t care, however: all I cared about was that I was eating a big hearty slice of cobbler after a big sandwich and a cup of rich coffee with a little kiss of creamer.

“Man, you really were hungry,” Jeff told me.

“I was hungry and I was driving along a winding, mountain road, too,” I added as I leaned back in the chair. “Thank you for this—I needed this so much, to be perfectly frank with you.” He showed me that wide-lipped smile as he picked up a spoonful of clam chowder himself: he lowered his gaze to my chest and my stomach, followed by my hips and my thighs.

“You actually have a very nice body, Alex,” he told me, and my face grew warm at the sound of that. I brought my hands closer to my waist to hide myself from his wandering eyes, but he still looked on at me anyway.

“Thanks, man. You do, too. You’re like—soft.”

“Nah, you’re the soft one, Alex,” he pointed out. “I’m just the guy who happens to be here.”

I cracked him a smile and I reached for my cup of coffee once again for a big swig of it, and then I picked up my fork again for more of that scrumptious cobbler with that warm crispy crust and those fresh berries within. I ate up the rest of it in a few more bites, and then I washed it down with the coffee.

He finished the rest of his coffee and then he gave his mousy brown hair a little toss back with a flick of his fingers.

“Want to take a walk on the beach?” he offered me.

“Yeah. Might as well. I came up here to be in nature, anyway.”

“Me, too, man,” he told me, still with that little smile upon his face.

When I stood up, my knees remained steady and I felt so much better after eating all of that lush, fresh food. I ran my fingers through my hair again and I let the breeze from the lake wash over me. I felt so good, so nourished, that I nearly forgot the shape of my belly once again.

Jeff led me to his bicycle parked there in the bike rack and he climbed on first; I took to the back of the seat and I rested my hands on his shoulders. As we rolled away from the café, I bowed my head lest a cop see me without a helmet on.

We crossed the highway and we made our way down the closest street which I soon figured brought us down to the water’s edge. He barely pedaled as we followed the groove of the road, all the way to the very end. Though winter and autumn still remained in the mountains on the western side of the lake, springtime was very much in full swing over the vast, partially rocky shores of Lake Tahoe. I shivered from the feeling of the cool but sweet breeze over our heads and shoulders.

We reached a dead end in the pavement and he brought us to the pale stretch of sand beyond that, the sand down to the shore’s edge. We were met with a series of boulders and some bushes right by the lake’s edge before the ground dropped out to those gentle lapping waters down below. The path narrowed out to a row slender enough for just a couple of guys like us rather than a bicycle, and he skidded to a stop as a result.

“This path looks like it goes down to the water,” he told me.

“I want to walk, anyway,” I confessed to him and I climbed off of the back of the seat. I stretched my arms over the crown of my head so the hem of my shirt lifted off of my skin. Jeff climbed off of the seat and he brought the bike over to the nearest tree on the side of the sand, and he propped it up on the narrow little stand.

I closed my eyes and I let everything hang out for the southern side of the lake waters. Jeff cleared his throat as he came back up to me.

“You have a beautiful body, actually,” he corrected himself from earlier. I turned my head, still with my arms extended up over me. The hem of my shirt still remained over my waist and the belt of my jeans. He showed me a sweet little smile as his eyes swept over me.

“A very beautiful body,” he added, that time in a lower voice. I slipped my fingers into the roots of my hair, all to feel the softness at the back of my head. I could feel my face growing warm and soft at the sound of his voice. He inched closer to me and he put his arm around the small of my back; all the while, he set a hand on my right hip.

“Very soft... and very beautiful,” he continued.

“That’s just—way too kind of you, Jeff,” I sputtered.

He moved my body towards me and he brought his face close to me.

“I want to praise your body, Alex,” he said over the waves down below us. “I want to praise you so much. I want to praise and nourish and love your body—in a way that I could never do for Larry.”

I was shocked by that. He and Larry were best friends. I had become a crown prince with a personal chef. I had never heard a peep from him before everything else.

“What are you saying?” I demanded.

“I want to be yours for a day,” he said right into my ear. “I put food in your belly and I want to love your body. Every last inch. Every last part of you. I want to kiss every inch of your body.”

I relaxed at that; he put his other arm around my waist. He ran his hands down my hips and the seat of my pants.

“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me—” He brought his lips close to mine and he treated me to a soft little kiss.

I pulled back and I stared into his face.

“Where’s all of this coming from?” I asked him, taken aback.

“I’ve always wanted to know what you’re like up close and personal,” he replied in the softest voice yet. “My classmate. My neighbor. The friend I've always known but never actually really known before. I want to know everything about this. I want to feel it and I want to treat you, not like a prince, but like a king. Be a king, baby boy.”

He gave me another kiss and I almost fell back onto the sands from the feeling.

“I have to sit down,” I begged him.

“Go ahead, baby,” he told me. I lunged onto my back and I spread my legs open for him. The bottom hem of my shirt stayed lifted up off of my skin all the while. He ran his fingers through that smooth hair and he ran his tongue along his lips at me.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

He lunged for me and he undid my jeans for me. I held still and I let my belly relax from all of the food that I had eaten as well as the fact that I had gone so long without eating anything. He tugged my jeans down my hips, followed by my underwear. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of me there before his face.

“Look at this beauty,” he told me. “I want to please this beauty forever. I want to make him so happy.” He held onto me and he brought his attention up to me. “I want to make you so happy for a day.”

I stayed still and I let him run his fingers over my skin.

I had never been worshipped before, let alone have my dick revered in this way before. I lay my head down on the sand’s surface and I reached my hands up above my head: I closed my eyes and parted my lips. Jeff’s tongue ran along the side of my shaft.

I gave myself to him and yet he was the one who gave himself up to me. I was in charge. I didn’t like to be bossed around; he didn’t, either. But he wanted to do it for me.

It was all about me right then, and it gave me such a powerful feeling, one that I had never felt before, not even once in my life.

It left me feeling naked, out in the open, completely exposed, and yet there was something about the thought of being in charge, added by the fact that we were right by the water’s edge. I had become the prince with his most luxurious crown, and Jeff had yet to hitch his wagon to Larry’s horse. And yet Jeff was giving himself to me, with his tongue and the loving caresses of his fingers. He moved his lips to my waist for a few little kisses there, which tickled like crazy.

I was in charge. I wanted to do something for myself, to please myself, and with him there at the helm before me.

I fought through it and I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

I lifted up and he fell onto the seat of his pants. I climbed up onto my knees.

“Take me under,” he beseeched.

“Oi, I’m the one in charge.” I pressed a finger upon his brow, right at that spot between his eyebrows and his nose. He crossed his eyes and showed me the tip of his tongue at his two front teeth.

“Look at me,” I commanded in a broken voice.

“I’m—��� He dropped his gaze to my body for a moment.

“Look at me.”

“I—” He let out a gentle squeak that sounded like an oblong wheel.

“Look at me, Jeff!”

“Big Kahuna,” he blurted out.

“Suck my dick,” I commanded, and he buried his face right into my crotch. He sucked me so hard that I tilted my head back and opened my mouth. No sound came out; the waves down below made more noise but there was no way I wanted to make a lot of sound right then. Not out there out in the open. Not within a stone’s throw from the beaches and the harbor up the shoreline from there.

“I am completely yours,” he whimpered up to me.

“Completely mine for the day,” I cooed to him with a stroke of the back of his head, the back of that smooth brown hair; my heart pounded inside of my chest and I could feel myself rising while in his mouth. “Completely mine for the day in paradise.”

As the words left my lips, I could hear him swallowing over the sound of the waves down below. Completely mine for that day in paradise.

[fellowshipofthefics]

Hey Fellowship of the Fics! Please welcome @lathalea​​!! 👏🥳 Lathalea decided to share her thoughts and impressions on her fic: The White Raven.

Question 1: Did you have a plan for this story and did it stick well to that plan?

Yes, I most definitely have and I'm sticking to it 100%. Well... I may be adding some extra details along the way, I hope you'll like what I did with the story!

Question 2: What scene are you most proud of and why?

I have a separate favorite scene in each chapter, and since I'm trying to put a lot of thought into them, please bear with me: Chapter 1 - Thorin fighting with the Orcs: I had a really good time writing this dynamic duel from a warrior's point of view and I hope it shows. Chapter 2 - The moment when Carra wakes up: I used different tenses to show her confusion as she adapts to her "human" form. Does it work well? You tell me! Chapter 3 - Thorin at the waterfall: Actually, in this chapter, I'm mostly proud of the art Mewpet has graciously agreed to create. It's 100 times better than my descriptions of him tbh :) Chapter 4 - the flashback scene with Carra and Grandfather Arc teaching her the raven secrets. I put a lot of worldbuilding into it and I hope I managed to show it in a coherent way. Chapter 5 - the last scene (the kaleidoscope): the impressionist feeling, the purposefully chaotic narration, the visual presentation of the events. Chapter 6 - this one is still being written, so I don't want to spoil too much. Let's just say you won't be dissapointed with the ending.

Question 3: Which character was your favorite to write in this fic and why?

Thorin. Surprise! ;) He was both the toughest and the easiest to write, depending on the scene and "The White Raven" allowed me to explore how this character could think and act in various situations that weren't described by Tolkien (nor filmed by PJ). One of my favorite scenes with him, I think, is the first one when he tells little Fili and Kili the tale of the White Raven.

Question 4: What are 3 "hidden" headcanons or facts that you want your readers to know about this story?

1. Since the beginning of time, Ravens and Dwarves share a special bond that goes beyond the mundane. It was made to protect both species because they have an important role to play. 2. Sauron is growing in strength much earlier, before the events in Dol Guldur, and he needs to destroy both the significant Ravens and Dwarves before they threaten his plans for the future. 3. In my version of the Middle Earth history, in the War of the Ring (the one we know from the LOTR), Dale and Erebor survive and destroy the Enemy's army only because Thorin is still alive and leads the attack. If he dies, that part of Middle Earth may fall into the hands of the Enemy - or worse.

Question 5: If you were to give this fic an alternate title, what would it be?

"Wings of Destiny" - although the story is mostly questioning the destiny and leaning towards forging your own fate, the catalyst to all the changes stays the same. The White Raven.

If you haven’t read this story yet, go back up to the top and be sure to click the link. Also if you haven’t seen Lathalea’s works before, here are some other fics that she has done that are worth checking out as well:

All Is Fair in Love and Trade

Remember

Springtime at the Lonely Mountain

If you would like to get you and your story featured in Monday Mentions, please click the Application Link! If you have any questions/concerns with the form, please feel free to leave an ask or DM one of us! Questions will be updated each month so repeat writers and stories are welcome. New writers will be prioritized.

[omegaradiowusb]

APRIL 15, 2024 A (#373)

Thousandaire: "One Day I'll Finally Go Deaf" TV Star: "These Trees Heard The Drums" Slow Crush: "Thrill" A Beacon School: "Mantra" Absolutely Free: "How To Repaint Clouds" Sour Widows: "Witness" Verity Den: "Prudence" Grass Jaw: "Tic Tac" Soda Die: "Sit With It" Sprain: "Constant Hum" Shizuka: "Bloodsplattered Blossom" Haress: "White Over" Constant Smiles: "Sea Of Birds" Wednesday: "Love Has No Pride (Condemned)" Keep: "7 Days" Lower Plenty: "A Letter To Grief" Sonic Boom: "If I Should Die" Mountain Movers: "Bodega On My Mind / Sun Shines On The Moon" Dolly: "Process" cursetheknife: "cursetheknife" Downward: "Budge" Velvet: "Sunlight" A Very Special Episode: "Smolder" MX Lonely: "Rest In Salt" Honeymoon: "Like Suffering" Stargazer Lilies, The: "Dizzying Heights" There Is No Teenage Love: "Randezvous Zero"

Springtime is seeing better days, when Omega Radio arrives with three deluxe hours of new, current, and favorite sounds and artists for Springtime temperatures. From shoegaze, dreampop, bedroom pop, alternative, and jangle, we have it all for listeners to fly high and never fall back from grace.

It's only our first broadcast of the day. We return later in the afternoon for a special two-hour bonus set when we fill-in for Music Library Gems. After that, plenty of more Springtime sounds to go from now until late May. We'll see you in eleven hours.

April 15, 2024 (2-4PM): bonus Omega.

April 29, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): deluxe Omega.

May 13, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): deluxe Omega.

May 27, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): final deluxe Spring ‘24 Omega.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 11080

A kimo sequence

               First Stanza

My mothers of the sea and thrice as well a day! That they go. Junked up with more would rejoicing.

               Second Stanza

Let that blessed spot will let me entwine hoverings over a shout rose to night. To comforting!

               Third Stanza

I did not wring his hands, now your hurt invades my calm white seal. To himself and a continent.

               Fourth Stanza

But crowded in that sentence to unsay. Wanton musick, for the soul revolves, that things of death?

               Fifth Stanza

In springtime, the more she could so mine idle life? Nor discredit you: zooks, are in hers, are wet!

               Sixth Stanza

Soon maun be my Dear, my Philly! Of any spirit in my head knocks against a rocky shore.

               Seventh Stanza

The flocke, my little tract. She comes clear. Yon centinel stars; and here and abroad me joy, folioed.

               Eighth Stanza

But so with equal emulations Act: the flying a dead infant, slain by the human words!

               Ninth Stanza

Now am I haunted. A liquid broideries of flowers, and wilt not mind the fool confined.

               Tenth Stanza

‘Or death, the door attends thee safely fedde. To the mountaineer! Thy state, can never make up dead.

               Eleventh Stanza

With generous world I would be double day revealed, while with showers above, but by thy side.

               Twelfth Stanza

But here I find it, although it faded, and saves the cricket cap was once more sad, more besides.

               Thirteenth Stanza

I wake or sleep awhile, and wonder, breathe a prayers; and like a king, but was it yesterday?

               Fourteenth Stanza

With arts. My fancye eke from my side, we’re stands the subjected to with rayne? A strangers walk with Tears!

               Fifteenth Stanza

Great pittie is, he be in your ear. It is time, surcharg’d with rains, and with spent light, and heaving breast!

               Sixteenth Stanza

Of that the Fool’s Parade! And all’s come thy faith is me the day. That nurse the sail than thou art named.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Young beneath a fading gaunt and blind Orion hungry sands. Give us no more amongst them?

               Eighteenth Stanza

Of social wrong; all through the damned grotesques made nullity! I’d rather courtly carriage.

               Nineteenth Stanza

A gallant fight: I arise from his slomber broke? Thus far brought my hand unsmooth behaviour soft.

               Twentieth Stanza

Which once he seeke the tree fell at a time of Growth, and golden bowers there are colonnades.

               Twenty-first Stanza

The iron stain that! Much toil, ’twould break and all too many Crescent Moons a Full; and that wasn’t it.

               Twenty-second Stanza

Its mistress’ nod will slime the rear, with an eye-guess toward another in one short adieu. This way!

               Twenty-third Stanza

And thus far that sometime may bloom nor want of worth. She never will strew on the world. Fixed the stared.

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

They won’t you made. The grass; I feele most rich of shame, and would burst the Incomprehensible!

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

—Thou lonely heart sorrow places. To give thou art, in royall aray: and eke tenne thousand pea!

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

The coward blow, whether Laws be right foot, go a doubled coronals. They are thee, my Philly?

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

And look upon her bed. Eight years old and images of love is upon misprision grow cold.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

With which their massive air—let me slake them bemone that took the which him to much rebuke and payne.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Voice as well nigh pass’d, and lions’ manes, from thy bloom well in which they despised, whilst they cried, ah, stay!

               Thirtieth Stanza

See, where she cannon-bullet rust on thine? Them selues that looked so wistfully at their excell.

               Thirty-first Stanza

Young Semele such pierlesse plains; a three chains by the Eye love may be. ’Ve fallen to grow.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 5 March 2023

For Christmas I received a large and beautiful hardback book which contains a nature poem for every day of the year. I’ve got to admit that I’m not a poetry person and up to now at least, I’ve found the content extremely challenging, so the gift giver, Ms Nature Watch the elder, threw down the gauntlet and said, can you do better?

Well, I won’t say better, but I can do different, a present-day take on the same title and so I chose to write one poem for the birthday of each person close to me. The first in the year is my late father’s birthday.

Forever associated with spring, daffodils are a welcome sign that warmer days are ahead. An inspiration to artists across the centuries and entangled in myth and symbolism, there’s much more to these bright and cheery trumpets than meets the eye. I found an article with some fascinating and unusual facts about one of our most popular springtime blooms. It was published by the seed and bulb sellers, Suttons, so thanks to them for the following.

What do daffodils symbolise?

Daffodils are among the first flowers to appear as spring approaches, so it’s no surprise that they’re the birth flower for March as well as a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings. But daffodils have also represented many other ideas over the years. The Victorians, for example, considered them the flower of respect and friendship.

Traditionally given on a tenth wedding anniversary (I never heard that before) florists often add daffodils to these celebratory bouquets as a symbol of faith, joy and happiness. However, in days gone by, presenting someone with a single daffodil was seen as bad luck, while observing a bloom as its head drooped used to be thought to herald death. I never heard of that either, but then I’ve never known of anyone give a single daffodil to anyone.

That apart, daffodils remain primarily associated with hope. At the start of 2020 they were the inspiration for David Hockney’s daffodil artwork. Drawn on an iPad during the first COVID-19 lockdown, the piece was titled: ‘Do Remember They Can’t Cancel The Spring’. You can also see it here at The Art Newspaper.

Daffodils as medicine

Originating in the Mediterranean, daffodils are said to have been brought to the UK by Roman soldiers who used them for pain relief and wound healing. We know now that this is unlikely to have helped, as all parts of the daffodil are toxic and should not be consumed. Prolonged exposure to the sap can cause dermatitis.

That said, daffodils do contain the compound galantamine, which has been found to slow the progression of dementia symptoms. In certain parts of the UK, like the Black Mountains in Wales, daffodils are grown specifically to produce a treatment for Alzheimer’s. How incredible.

It’s very fitting that the daffodil is the national flower of Wales and is proudly worn on 1st March to celebrate St David’s Day.

Daffodils in poetry

We’re all familiar with the poem ‘I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud’, William Wordsworth, having taken a walk in the Lake District with his sister Dorothy, describes his feelings upon seeing ‘a host of golden daffodils’ growing at the edge of a lake. A lesser-known fact is that the poem was also inspired by his sister’s journal entry, and that the middle two lines of the final stanza were written by Wordsworth’s wife, Mary Hutchinson.

The Cornish daffodil industry

Bunches of daffodils have been sold in the UK for hundreds of years, but commercial farming of the flowers really took off in the late 19th century, courtesy of Cornish potato farmer William Trevellick. The daffodils around his farm on the Isles of Scilly bloomed much earlier than on the mainland, so he made use of the weekly freighter and the (then relatively new) Penzance to London railway link to get freshly-cut blooms to London within 48 hours of picking.

Island landowner Thomas Dorrien-Smith built on Trevellick’s idea by encouraging his tenant farmers to make bulb-forcing houses and transport boxes for the flowers, and also brought in different varieties to extend the flowering season. This in turn inspired mainland farmers to start planting bulbs, and the world’s largest daffodil grower, Varfell Farm, is still in operation today in Penzance, Cornwall.

Establishing the difference between ‘daffodil’ and ‘narcissus’ seems to cause confusion (throw ‘jonquil’ into the mix if you want to increase the head-scratching). To clear this up, daffodils and jonquils are the common names of spring-flowering bulbs that are members of the genus ‘Narcissus’ (the botanical Latin name for this group of plants)

Daffodils in Greek mythology

The name ‘Narcissus’ comes from a Greek myth about a hunter who spurned all romantic advances and then fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Unable to tear himself away, he died and a narcissus flower grew where his body had been. The way that daffodil heads tilt towards the ground is said to mimic Narcissus dropping his head to gaze at his reflection. This story is also the origin of the term ‘narcissism’, which describes someone who is selfish, overconfident, and obsessed with their personal appearance.

Wild daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) are sometimes called Lent Lilies, as they commonly bloom and die back between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. There are over 50 species of narcissus in existence and thousands of hybrids and cultivars. They come in a wide variety of colours, shapes and scents and I’ve never met one I didn’t like. Our own are slow to bloom compared to other local areas. I’ve seen lots of vibrant patches along with the snowdrops and odd drifts of crocus. We’re officially in meteorological spring now, even if the weather doesn’t seem to agree with that. Roll on Spring proper please

[lathalea]

Thorin Oakenshield Masterlist

Here is the masterlist of my Thorin Oakenshield stories. Enjoy!

📜 ONE-SHOTS:

✨ The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ Forest Gold (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ The Winner Takes It All (Thorin x Reader, rated E) ✨ Boop! (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Imbolc (Thorin x OC, rated: T, gothic fairy tale) ✨ Blacksmith Needed (Thorin x OC, rated: M) ✨ Far Under the Misty Waters Cold (Thorin x Reader, rated: T) ✨ To Home Afar (Thorin & Dis, my TRSB21 entry, rated: G) ✨ Strong (Thorin x Reader, hurt/comfort fic) ✨ A Good Night's Kiss (Thorin x Reader, rated: M) ✨ The Gift (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Mistletoe (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ How Do You Shop for a King? (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Thistle. A Midsummer Night's Dream (who is the woman in prince Thorin's dream?, rated G) ✨ The Tinderbox (Thorin x OFC, rated: G) ✨ The Crossover (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Best Day of My Life (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Never (Thorin angst, rated: G) ✨ Dream Come True (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Kind of Magic (Thorin x gn!Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Pint Too Far (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Wild Strawberries (Thorin x OC, rated: E) ✨ The Arrival (Thorin x OC/Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Shrieking Monster (Thorin&Dis&Fili&Kili family fluff, rated: G)

📜 LONGFICS:

✨ The Weeping Willow (Thorin x Reader, angst, dark fairy tale, rated T, complete): [1] [2]

✨ All Is Fair in Love and Trade (Thorin x Reader, rated E)

✨ Entangled (Thorin x OC, rated: G): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Heart of Stone (Thorin x Reader, The Hobbit Pirate AU, an interactive story, rated M):  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] (on hiatus) ✨ Third Time's the Charm (Thorin x Reader, rated T, complete): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Sun and Stone (Thorin x Reader, rated G, complete) [1] [2] ✨ Springtime at the Lonely Mountain (pre-Smaug AU, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E) ✨ How to Kiss a Fairy (collab with @avaria-revallier , Quest of Erebor with a twist, rated G, complete): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 ✨ Blame It on Cider (Thorin x fem!Dwarf OC Yrsa, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ... 💎 Soulmates (Modern AU take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship)

✨ If on a Winter's Night (Thorin x Reader, Modern AU): [1] [2] [] [] ✨ The White Raven (Thorin x OC, rated: T/E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] []

✨ Entangled (Thorin x OC Mista, rated: G/E)

➡️Other Masterlists

Lathalea's Main Masterlist

Writer's Month 2021 Masterlist

Tarot Imagine Ask Game 2021 Masterlist

The Hobbit Advent Calendar 2021 Masterlist

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist

You can read all of my works on AO3 (Lathalea).

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, let me know! Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

[legolasoftherings]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Kili x f!reader

Word Count: 2493

Stuff to Know: fluff, after botfa, everyone lives

A/N: Hi, uh it’s been a minute, as usual. Writer’s block has had me for a few months, but now, this is out! Thank you @bhflowers324 for the request, and I am sincerely sorry for making you wait this long. In this specific fic, Ones see the world more vibrantly (brighter colors and such) upon seeing each other.

Meetings with Bard were never enjoyable for Kili. All the diplomatic talk bored him to no end, but he sat next to Thorin and tried to look like he was paying attention. Every so often, Fili glanced over at him sympathetically, knowing how little he was paying attention. Thorin knew as well, but had no time to waste on his more restless nephew.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Bard finally concluded the negotiations, and Thorin nodded to Kili, giving him permission to leave.

He ducked out of the room, finally free of the mind-numbing boredom. The fresh, sweet Dale air filled his lungs, and he smiled as the too-bright sun made him squint. Springtime was in full swing, and the world was alive again after the harsh Lonely Mountain winter.

Making the fateful decision to walk through the market, he wandered through the stalls, taking in the range of sights and sounds around him.

Stopping at a booth selling baked goods, he reached for a cookie to purchase, but stopped short and did a double take as a girl stopped next to him. You.

It was your smile that brought the sudden pang to his heart, and Kili’s world exploded in living color. You happened to be smiling at the vendor, but for all he cared, you could have been gazing directly into his soul. The pure radiance of it caught him by surprise. He stood still for a moment, gawking, but as you moved away into the crowd without a glance at him, he shook himself out of the trance he was in.

Where did she go? Was that my One? Why didn’t she see me?

He spun around, turning in every direction, but he had no idea where you had gone.

Damn it, Kili, you’ve really messed up this time.

The only solution he could think of was his brother. Fili was also wandering through the market, so finding him was easy.

“Fili!” he called, frantically racing towards his brother, “I’ve lost my One!”

“You don’t have a One!” Fili replied as Kili gave him a look full of meaning, “...Oh.”

“I need your help, Fi.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Kili smiled gratefully at his older brother and raced away, forcing Fili to try and keep up.

All the while, he rambled anxiously, “Obviously, we have to find her. Could Thorin help us? I don’t know… Fili are you actually on board with this? …Oh, Mahal, she is beautiful, Fi, I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, uh- I’m not actually sure…”

“You haven’t even talked to her yet?!”

“I’m working on it!”

“You’d better be, Kili, how are we going to find her?”

“No idea.”

At this point, Kili was beginning to break down. His breathing grew faster and faster, and his hands began to shake uncontrollably. A few tears came from his eyes before he could stop them, and he ducked his head so as to not be seen.

“Ki,” Fili whispered, reaching out to take his brother’s arm, “Should we go somewhere a little more quiet?”

Kili nodded and Fili led him away to the nearly empty outskirts of Dale.

“I promise we will find her, no matter what it takes. You have my word, and right now, we are going to find Uncle. Deal?”

Kili nodded and wiped his nose, but tears continued to escape.

“C’mere, Ki.”

Fili held tight to his brother, enveloping him in an attempt to soothe his anxiousness. He succeeded, and Kili’s breathing slowed to a shaky, but constant, inhale and exhale.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll go.”

“I’m ready.”

A soft, yet excited, smile began to grow on Kili’s face.

“We can do this, Fi! I’m going to find my One!” he exclaimed, and he sped off back into the market, barely regarding any of the surprised looks on the faces of the people in it.

Running back into the meeting room, Kili threw open the door. He ran straight into a very surprised Bard, who stumbled back from the impact, but Fili caught him by the arm just in time.

“So sorry,” Kili quickly said, running past him and anxiously calling out for Thorin.

“Uncle!” Fili exclaimed.

Thorin whipped around with an angry glare at his nephews, but one look at Kili changed his expression.

“What happened, Fili?” he asked, drawing closer to the boys.

“Kili found his one, but he lost her in the market,” Fili replied quietly, “He’s freaking out.”

“I can see that. Do you have any idea where she could have gone?”

Kili shook his head, “She just disappeared.”

“Uncle, we need to find her. I say we search the market first, and if needed, we can talk to Amad if we don’t find her right away,” Fili suggested.

“Will Dís approve of this?”

“We can only hope.”

“Alright. Kili, you stay with me. Fili, find Dwalin, and anyone else you can find. One more thing, what is her name?”

Kili blanched, and managed to force out a weak, “…I don’t know.”

Thorin sighed, barely holding in an exasperated outburst, and began to massage his temples.

“You don’t know?” The forced calm in his voice put a steely edge on the question.

“Uncle Thorin, he saw her for a brief moment, but he knew. I think we should trust him to know what she looks like, at least.”

Thorin and Fili’s eyes turned to Kili, who nodded.

“She has (e/c) eyes, (h/c) hair that reaches down to about here,” he said, gesturing to the point on his body where he guessed your hair fell, “And she was wearing a red blouse and black skirt.”

“Was she human?” Thorin asked, an involuntary worried look appearing on his face.

“No, a dam.”

Thorin was satisfied. “Boys, we’ve got to move fast. Fili, go.”

Fili nodded and ran to fetch whoever he could find. Soon, Dwalin, Bofur, Gloin, and Dori were gathered, and anxiously awaited instruction.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. Kili has somehow misplaced his One, and we need your help,” Thorin announced.

At that, a small murmur rose from the group. Kili had a One?

Fili nodded with a smile, and spoke, “He found her this morning, in the market. However,” his smile disappeared, “He managed to lose sight of her, and now, we need to find her, for his sake.”

“How are we going to find her?” Dori asked.

“This is what we need you for,” Thorin answered, “We are going to search the market thoroughly, and if we don’t find her in an hour, meet back here to discuss further plans.”

Dwalin nodded, but asked, “What does she look like? Does she have a name?”

Kili repeated everything he told Thorin and Fili, adding, “She has a beautiful smile.”

“Good to know, lad,” Bofur said with a laugh. Kili gave him a playful glare and a light shove in response.

“How are we going to know it’s her? I’m sure there are other dams that look similar to her,” Gloin asked, earning a murmur of assent from the rest of the dwarves.

Kili thought for a moment, and remembered, “She was wearing a necklace! It had a white opal on it, on a silver chain.”

Gloin nodded, clearly getting a picture of what the necklace looked like. The dwarves split themselves up into teams of two, and awaited final instructions.

“What are we waitin’ for, lads? Let’s go!” Bofur exclaimed, making everyone laugh. They turned, walked into the market and separated. Thorin stayed with Fili and Kili, and they wandered around the outskirts of the market, to no avail.

After an hour of fruitless searching, the dwarves gathered once again, discouraged looks on their faces.

“We couldn’t find her anywhere,” Dwalin stated with a frown.

“Neither could we,” Dori corroborated.

Thorin groaned, “Our only option is to go to Dís.” He didn’t hate his sister, but she hated being interrupted when she had plans. If they barged into her quarters unannounced, they would be practically burned alive, but she was their only option.

“Best of luck, you three,” Gloin said, putting a reassuring hand on Kili’s shoulder.

The seemingly endless walk to Erebor was silent. Each of the dwarves was lost in his own thoughts, and Kili was beginning to lose hope of ever finding his beautiful One. These thoughts continued as they strode through the corridors of the dwarven kingdom, picking up speed as they approached.

Kili broke into a run as he reached the hall that his mother resided in, and threw her door open.

“Amad! We need your help!” Kili yelled, bursting into his mother’s quarters with a frantic expression, Fili and a reluctant Thorin in tow.

Dís stood up angrily from her chair, shouting back, “Kili, I have company! Did I not teach you how to knock?”

“Sorry, Amad,” he replied with a sheepish smile, “It’s an emergency.”

Just then, he noticed the company that Dís had mentioned standing behind her. It was his mystery girl.

Locking eyes with you, he froze. Dís, of course, noticed his look and had a moment of realization. She smiled slyly at her son, and brought you forward to stand next to her.

“Oh, Kili! Have you met Miss Y/N? She’s about your age, and she just arrived a little while ago from the Iron Hills. Y/N, these are my sons, Fili and Kili.”

Kili opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You grinned at his flustered state, trying to hold a giggle in while ignoring the fluttering feeling in your own stomach and the bright colors swirling in your eyes.

“Excuse me, Amad, but can I borrow Y/N for just a moment?” Kili asked in a moment of bravery. His mother raised an eyebrow, but murmured an assent.

Nervously, he offered you his arm, which you took, gracefully avoiding his anxious eyes, and led you out of the room. He pulled you out into the hallway and far enough away from Dís’ door that the two of you couldn’t be heard.

“Kili.”

“Y/N.”

You both spoke at the same time, and giggled awkwardly.

“It took you so long to find you,” Kili started, “I saw you in the market this morning, but you disappeared.”

“Oh…” You replied, unsure of what to say, “I’m so sorry. I was only there for a few minutes, and then I visited your mother.”

The opal necklace around your neck glittered in the sparse light of the hall, casting small rays of color around.

You saw where his eyes were focused and said, “The necklace was a present from my mother in the Iron Hills. She sent me here to find a husband,” you laughed, causing Kili to flush a bright pink and change the subject.

“Do you see the colors too?” he asked, referring to the vibrant hues that filled his sight.

You smiled and nodded, saying, “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Me neither.”

“Well, what do we do now? Are we courting?”

“I guess so,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck, “My brother and uncle already know, so all we have to do is tell my mother and your family.”

“Are you sure Dís will think it’s a good match? After all, we just met.”

Kili nodded with a soft smile, “I know she will. She used to tell Fili and I the story of how her and Adad met all the time.”

“What happened?”

“He almost shot Thorin in the face with a bow and she kissed him square on the mouth.”

You snorted loudly and clapped your hands over your mouth in embarrassment. Kili chuckled at your reaction, making you giggle, and soon, the two of you were convulsing on the floor.

Fili opened his mother’s door and peeked out with a grin, “Are you two okay? I heard something dying out here and I just wanted to check on you.”

“Shut up, Fili!” you called, gasping for air.

“Oh, I like you already,” Kili laughed, high-fiving you.

After a while, the two of you stopped wheezing and sat still against the wall, waiting for the other to speak. Kili was smiling dreamily at you, and you tried (unsuccessfully) not to do the same.

“Well, your family is probably waiting for us,” you finally said, nervously playing with your hands in your lap.

“I promise, Y/N, they will love you. Fili’s always wanted to have a sister.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “He used to tell me all the time. When I would annoy him, he would tell Amad that he wished I was a girl so I wouldn’t bother him, but something tells me you may be a perfect partner in crime.”

You chuckled at that, but worry still had you in its grasp. “What about your mother and uncle?”

“Amad already loves you, I can tell, and Thorin has his heart set on me finding my One.”

Sighing in relief, you reached over and squeezed Kili’s hand. “Well, I’m ready.”

He kissed your knuckles gently and stood up, helping you onto your feet as well.

“I’m so glad I found you, Y/N.”

Blushing, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his hair. He hugged you back, kissing your forehead, and you knew you were finally where you belonged.

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company and warmth. There was nothing awkward or forced about it, just two souls that finally found their missing piece.

He finally broke the hug and led you to the door. You reached for it, and froze, taking a deep breath. Kili looked down at you with a reassuring smile and placed your arm in his. His touch was comforting, and he gave the hand that you rested on his arm a little squeeze. You nodded and pushed the door open.

When you walked into the room, Kili’s family was beaming. Even Thorin looked extremely proud of his nephew.

Dís opened her arms with a smile. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

You accepted the hug and soon, Fili, Kili, and Thorin helped create a group hug. Feeling Kili’s hand on your waist, you reached for it and gripped it tightly, as if to say you’re my home. His hand enveloped yours, and as you were released from the hug, he pulled you to him.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” he whispered in your ear.

“I won’t, ever. After all, who’s going to help you prank Fili?”

“I heard that!” Fili called, hands on his hips with a dimpling grin.

“Heard what?” Kili replied, returning his brother’s smile.

Everyone laughed, and you leaned against Kili’s shoulder. Now that you had found your One, you would never let him go. His arms wrapped around you again, and you felt safer than you ever had before.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ve got you. Forever.”

Tagging People:

@kumqu4t @trxblemaker @guardianofrivendell @moony-artnstuff @entishramblings @legolaslovely @rowandor

[yoonia]

Of Bears And Bonds | 01

➬ Of Bears and Bonds

➬ Character | Seokjin x reader

⇢ Genre | Were-bear/Bear Shifter!Seokjin, Witch! Reader, Fated Mates!au, Smut, Angst

⇢ Summary | Winter always comes with surprises. Sometimes it brings you the joy in the form of solitude, other times it comes with a snowstorm that buries your old cabin in a thick snow mountain that has you trapped until Springtime. You had believed that you were prepared for anything come winter. The only thing you have not been prepared to deal with is to find a bear being sent to your doorsteps. Asleep.

⇢ Ratings & Warnings | +18/mature; slow burn (and I mean, really slow), nudity, voyeurism, Jin appearing as a bear at the beginning of the story (it’s pretty obvious I think, but a fair warning was needed on this one), size kink (Jin has a big D), tattooed Jin, mentions of marking.

⇢ Word count | 19k words (I’m so sorry!)

➥ Part of the Shifters Series | World Map & Fic Glossary | Next Chapter ⇢

➥ Cross post | Inkitt | Wattpad

⇢ Author’s Note | I have decided to split this story into two parts because I didn’t want to make you guys wait too much longer. This story takes place around the similar timeline from the scenes in Blood Moon Rising, but can also serve as a prequel. The story can be read as a standalone, yet it would probably be more pleasurable to read this alongside the main series Blood Moon Rising and/or by reading The Half-Lycan beforehand. | For @jamaisjoons​ and @theodea​ who have been hyping me up with this one and for helping me by tossing ideas back and forth whenever I get stuck.

PART ONE

Many years had passed since the last time the lone sorcerer, Mage Cian, stepped foot in the North.

For the mage had not been a huge fan of the cold weather. Despite his constant traveling when he is not leading the small community of White Witches and Warlocks that he had built for himself way in the East, he always chooses to stay away from the cold parts of the region, keeping it low and warm. Yet, he is risking it all today, as the North had always been known as the coldest part of the region. Particularly on times like now, when winter is near.

The cold temperature in the North is just starting to pick up as Mage Cian finally arrives at where he should be, letting him know that his time is almost up. He knows that he needs to make pace if he wants to make sure that everything will run according to what fate has planned.

There is no sign for the snow to arrive on this part of the land just yet, but the ground has already started to become frosty as the dead leaves and gravel crunch underneath his boots on his way to the edge of the forest. It doesn’t take him long before he emerges through the dense trees and finds himself staring at the rocky wall at the foot of the mountain. He continues his short walk just as the sky begins to grow darker, tracing the rocky hill until he is standing right at the mouth of a dark cavern that would soon be covered under a mountain of snow.

With no more time to waste, Mage Cian enters the cave with calm and grace, without making so much of a noise. Using his magic, he lights his way in to reach the heart of the cavern, making sure to get through the dark without disrupting the peace and quiet. He needs to tread his way in carefully if he wants things to go on without a hitch.

Especially when he is dealing with a special case such as this one.

He begins to slow down his pace as he reaches the end of the tunnel. The mage is caught completely off guard when he finds the occupant of the hidden cavern sitting up against the rocky walls, its dark fur blending into the darkness while a pair of dark eyes are watching him closely as he carefully moves closer.

“There you are, old friend,” Mage Cian greets the magnificent beast with a sense of familiarity that comes from an old acquaintance but also with deep and genuine respect. Meanwhile, the creature only responds to him with his deep growls, constantly vibrating from within his chest and gently shaking the cavern walls.

“Have you been expecting me? What an interesting surprise to see you up and awake. I had expected to see you preparing to sleep already. It is the start of winter, after all, the time when bears would normally sleep for a long time through the cold. Isn’t that right, old champ?”

The bear still makes no move, yet it is beginning to appear a bit more curious as to what the mage is up to, his dark eyes continue to follow his uninvited guest’s movements as he listens closely, waiting cautiously. There has to be a mean to an end when a person had chosen to come out of his solitude only to disrupt another. And the bear knows that the trip to reach this part of the land had not been an easy one.

He knows because he had endured one before.

“You have been getting too comfortable being in that form of yours for far too long, don’t you think?” Mage Cian asks him with eyes full of mirth, while a low growl echoes against the walls in response to the mage’s curious taunting. The old mage immediately raises both of his hands, mocking a surrender until the bear calms down, although his dark eyes begin to flash back and forth between bright silver and its usual colour of black coal as he regards his guest.

“Now, now, I didn’t come here with any bad intention or to ask for a fight. You know me better than that,” the sorcerer says with a nervous chuckle. Yet he takes a few more steps closer, keeping his eyes looking up to the bear’s dark ones when he begins to speak, calmly, deliberately oozing his charm bits by bits through his words to get through the bear’s head.

“Come on, big guy. I know that you are still there. No matter what shape or form you are in, you still hold the control, don’t you?” he asks, and the bear’s constant warning growls begin to fade. “Aren’t you tired of hiding and running in the wild, my wise bear?”

The bear’s eyes flicker once again between black and silver, giving signs to the mage that he is listening, that the human counterpart within him is actually awake and paying attention to what he has to say.

“Listen to me, my dear friend. I am only here to help you return to your old self, guide you until you can find your purpose. You have lost your old clan, but does it really worth it to live out here as a lone feral shifter when you have a chance to build a new one for yourself and your future?”

The mage stops talking for a moment, giving the bear some time to process his words. And when he notices how the bear’s intimidating gaze slowly loosens to a cooler one and his shoulders are sagging instead of preparing to fight, Mage Cian quickly adds, reassuring him once more, “You, my friend, are destined to be something great, and it is time for you to reach for it. The question is, are you willing to embrace it?”

The wind flows aggressively strong through the trees outside of the coven that you feel as if you could hear it as you look out the window.

The sky outside is grey, completely opposite to the thin layer of white snow slowly forming to cover the earth underneath. And though the layer of ice and snow have yet to grow thick enough to cover the entire ground out of sight, you know that it is only going to get even more intense pretty soon as the winter is beginning to peak.

The North has always been colder than the rest of the land, but it is nothing compared to the winter. It has always been the most aggressive season of the year for the North, which becomes the reason why most people would stay clear of this part of the region the moment snow starts to fall. Except for the White Witches and Warlocks of your coven, who have always chosen this season to hold the annual gathering, where all members of the coven would come together and reunite in this cold weather, surrounding each other with warmth as they all trade potions and spells and enjoy reuniting with the rest of the family.

This year, however, instead of staying around to enjoy the traditional gathering, you are packing up to leave so you could face the cold winter head-on.

“Are you sure you want to leave today?”

You hear your sister’s voice speaking from somewhere behind you, yet you don’t bother looking back, too engrossed in the sight of the white snow currently falling outside. “Yes, Marla,” you answer her absentmindedly. “I have to, if I want to get there before the snow gets in my way.”

“But is it really a good idea to be on your own out there? The weather will become even harsher than it is today within days,” she protests, just like she has done it a million times before ever since you announced to your family that you are going to be leaving for the winter.

Shrugging lightly, you turn away from the window and look up into her eyes, giving her the most confident and optimistic smile that you could muster as you convince her—for the umpteenth time this week alone, “I will be alright. I promise. As long as I can get there before the snowfall is at its peak, I’d have enough time to prepare everything to get through the winter. Once I got through all that is needed, then I’ll be safe and warm inside the cabin.”

“How would you know that the cabin will even be safe enough to use in this kind of weather?” she asks you as she crosses her arms over her chest, while you roll your eyes at her.

“Oh, please. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ll be using the cabin in solitude to practice my rituals.”

“But you’ve never done it in the winter!” she protests harder, looking even more concerned now as her eyes look away briefly over your shoulder, watching the trees outside as they dance along with the wind.

You ignore her, however, no matter how much your gut is trying to tell you that perhaps she is right, that you have no clue if the old cabin would actually be strong enough to hold against the harsh weather while you are out there on your own. While it is true that you have gone to the secluded sanctuary many times before, you had only been there mostly during the warmer weather, whenever you need to practice on your potion making and your spells, to meditate, and to study on your grimoires without anyone in the coven hovering around you.

Avoiding her eyes, you walk over to your dresser to gather more of your winter outfit to add into your suitcase. You can feel your sister’s gaze following you as you pile up a few pieces of sweaters and knitted socks in your arms and start carrying them all to your bed, where you have your open suitcase placed on.

Ignoring her is hard to do when you could understand her concerns completely. She may not be your biological sister, just like everyone else in this coven, but she has become the closest person to an actual sister when she has always been there for you from the start.

“What exactly did the premonition tell you?”

Dropping all the items you have managed to gather into your suitcase, you look up to her with a tight smile. You have never truly explained to everyone else in the coven the real reason why you are rushing away from home while the others are making their way back from whatever journey they have been in to be with the ‘family’.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you look over to the altar that you have set up near the window. It only takes one look at your altar and the whole setup to notice how different you are compared to the other witches in the coven. While most of your coven sisters and brothers focus solely on practising healing powers and creating remedies, you had acquired a few new abilities over the past few years. It took you some time before you finally decided to focus on crafting the one mastery that your mentors had agreed would suit you best out of the others.

Clairvoyance.

Yet, as interesting and exciting it has been for you on mastering the craft, nothing really substantial has ever truly happened to prove your worth using this skill. Until recently.

It had all started during the night of the first snowfall, when you fell asleep after practising an enchantment that you have compiled together from the coven’s grimoires and the book of spells that had been inherited by your mother to you, and the fuzzy dream took over your slumber right away. While the first dream didn’t exactly tell you what you needed to know, it did show you that there was something that you would need to do. That there would be someone who would need your help.

And, according to the signs you have been getting through these dreams, you have managed to interpret that the event will occur right this winter.

The next few dreams kept coming to you like broken pieces of puzzles. Hints and vague clues which seemed to be calling for you to make the journey into the woods before the winter would be at its peak. Then one night, you saw your old cabin appearing in your dream. The small wooden cottage that had been left behind and was inherited to you by one of the oldest sorcerers that had once become a mentor at the coven.

And that was how your altar had gotten even more complex, with more intricate items added for the past few weeks to help with your rituals as you were trying to understand more about those dreams. To understand their meaning and to know your purpose. Yet, aside from seeing the old cabin to clue in on where you are supposed to be, nothing else has been said to let you know what it is that you are supposed to do, and who to expect.

That is, until a few nights ago when you finally made significant progress on interpreting the signs. When you finally received a clear premonition of you becoming a guardian to someone important.

“Whoever he is, it is quite obvious that he needs my help. I just couldn’t see clearly who it is or how I’m supposed to find him. All I know is that if I miss out on this chance and fail to get there in time, it will change the entire course of his fate—and mine.”

Your sister had been right when she told you that things were not going to be easy for you when you made your departure from the coven.

Even if the snow had yet to pile up when you made the trip, the terrible weather was enough to make your journey out into the woods lasted a lot longer than how it usually would with all the roadblocks getting in the way. It took the whole day for you to reach the border heading to the forest by car, followed by a trip on foot through the dense woods when the car that had taken you from the coven couldn’t get through.

You had been more than thankful to have Marla and her husband, Jooheon, to drive you all the way from the coven until you were left on your own. Thanks to them, you didn’t have to worry about leaving your car stranded at the forest’s border all through winter.

Even if you have been left with no clue on how to return.

You had been too exhausted to find anything wrong about the cabin on the first night of your arrival that you merely focused on settling in. You had found enough firewood inside the cabin to last you for the night and everything else seemed to be intact at first glance. The snowfall and the cold had not been so intense on your first night of residing in the new shelter that you managed to fall asleep so easily for the rest of the night.

As you woke up the next morning, however, you quickly realised that you had made the perfect decision of leaving the coven early when the signs of an incoming snowstorm already started to appear. And sure enough, upon further inspection under the brighter sunlight, you found that the old cabin would not be ready to face it.

The sky was almost dark grey when you woke up that morning. Even the forest looked dark and gloomy when you stepped out of the cabin for the first time to grab some more firewood to warm up the rooms inside. But the moment you were outside looking in and looking straight at the old place, you finally managed to see everything that was wrong about the place and how—once again—your sister was right about it not being exactly winter-friendly for you to reside in through the cold season.

It had been a while since you had been here, after all, when your last private training had ended last summer. Surely, the change of seasons had worn down the old building enough that at that moment, as you were looking at it, you were not entirely sure if it could make it through the next few months.

At least, not unless you were going to do something about it.

From the tiles on the slanted side of the roof that seemed to be hanging in odd angles, almost close to falling down, to the planks on the sidewall which seemed to be stained with mould, it really did seem like the cabin was ready to fall into pieces. Then you looked over to the side to find that most of the firewoods that had been kept there were soaking wet from being exposed to the change of weather. The tarp that had been used to cover them had been snapped open and flailing with the wind.

After taking a closer look at the rest of the damages, you started to make a long list of the things needed to be done to have the place strong enough to withstand the cold. And that was how you had ended up spending the first two days of your stay to do some handiwork, fixing and patching up the wooden lodge until it was deemed ready for you to stay in. Not forgetting to make the short trip to the forest to grab for more wood each time you were finished at the end of the day.

It was only at the third day when you finally finished cleaning up the cabin and setting up your altar right at the center of the old sunroom, choosing the spot right under the large windows overlooking the dark forest behind the lodge.

You went on with your day soon after, doing as much as you could while the sun was still up, from gathering supplies from the forest—mostly fresh ingredients that you couldn’t grab from the coven before making the trip to this place—and collecting more firewood, gathering as much as you could before the weather would start to get more intense and you would be snowed in inside the lodge without any fire to warm you up.

And just like that, your days of solitude have fallen into a pattern.

You would start each day by taking care of the place and gathering supplies in the daylight, making your own meal before enjoying your solitude in the afternoon. You would find yourself at the altar in the evening, doing your rituals and reading your rites to call for a sign as you continue to wait for whatever fate has been preparing for you.

Except that by the end of the week, you finally realise that the premonition dreams had initially stopped and there had been no answers gained from your rituals to let you know what you should be expecting.

Meanwhile, at the same time, you have been feeling some presence hovering around the area. As if someone has been watching you from a distance as you continue going back and forth into the depth of the woods and waste the days away inside the warm cabin. And while none of your rituals could give you an answer each time you try to foresee if there is any danger lurking nearby, it doesn’t stop you from wondering if your decision of coming here alone had been the right thing to do at all.

You are not someone who gets spooked so easily, but it doesn’t mean that you are not curious or feeling on the edge since you are out here on your own. Even if you had cast a spell around the lodge to protect you from anything evil or any incoming danger, you cannot help but feel wary of being secretly stalked when you are supposed to be in complete solitude.

Tonight, however, as you sit down facing your altar and looking out the window at the dark forest outside, you could barely think about this odd feeling following you around when you focus simply on trying to understand the premonitions you had been having before you got here.

“What if I had gotten things wrong?” you speak out loud to particularly no one when you are still not getting any sign. The clock had struck at midnight and you are sitting crossed-legged at the center of the pentagram, casting your spells to call for the signs to come. You have been spending the past hour calling for images or a clear premonition to give you something, anything, just to let you know what it is that you are supposed to be doing.

Why had those dream of yours summoned you to be here at the peak of the winter if there is nothing appearing for you?

But what if you have read the premonition wrong?

Or what if those images were not premonitions at all, but simply random dreams that your subconscious had created as you craved to be challenged, as you had been hoping to be given a chance to be able to make use of your new skills?

“The hell with all of this.”

Feeling drained and defeated under your wandering thoughts, you blow up the candles and leave the altar to end the night. You take one last look out the window, looking at nothing but darkness beyond the dim-lighted porch. You still have this nagging feeling as if you are being watched, and yet no matter what you do, you still find no sign of anyone hanging around the vicinity, whether it is day or night.

Is there anyone coming at all? You wonder, before you remember that you are completely all alone in the middle of this dense forest.

Ignoring the shivers running through your skin, you lock up the front door and all the windows and draw all the curtains shut. Secluding yourself from the cold world outside before finally going to bed.

Today has been a bit more windy than usual, yet you stay outside of the lodge a bit longer than usual as you gather more supplies from the forest. You also take the extra walk through the open air which you would need before you have to be stuck inside the old cabin for the rest of the season.

Once you had gotten enough firewood to last you for a few more weeks, you had gone back to the other side of the forest to find the riverbed so you could find some more rare food supplies and raw materials for your remedies before the entire river and the bushes around them would start to freeze. Hours have passed and you take your time, gathering as many ingredients as you could until you could no longer deal with the cold temperature, despite the thick coat covering your body. Once the sky is beginning to grow darker, you begin making your way back to your shelter with your baskets filled and heavy with supplies and your tummy growling with hunger.

But as you finally make it back and the cabin appears through the opening, you are surprised to find that there is a dark figure waiting for you on the front porch.

You couldn’t take a good look at who—or what—it is until you have come much closer, until you finally get a clear view of the shadow filling the front porch. A big lump of dark brown fur is the first thing you see before you finally realise that the big lump is moving up and down, as if breathing. You take another step closer before you could finally recognise what it is.

Curling on your front porch, sleeping soundly with his breathing going slow and steady, is a huge brown bear with his thick fur looking so dark and deep under the dim-light it nearly looks like black. A few gashes of drying wounds mark its entire body, its sharp claws spread out on the wooden floor as if the bear is preparing itself against any incoming danger even while it is sound asleep.

Your entire body freezes still, unable to decide whether you should risk it and get any closer, or if you should try to find another way in to get back inside the lodge. You are just beginning to step away and make your way around the wooden cabin when you remember that the backdoor leading to the sunroom had been broken in by some wild animals when you were here last summer, and that you had altered the locks so it could only be opened from inside, making it impossible for you to enter now from the outside.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, then quickly bite your lips when you see the bear shifting in his sleep. Even a whisper is enough to disrupt its slumber, and now your heart is pacing with fear, not sure if it would harm you if you get any closer.

You hold your breath and try your best not to move. The bear has his back facing you, showing you all the battle marks that have yet to heal. With wobbling knees, you start to make a move by taking a step backwards. Then another step. Then another, and—something snaps. The heel of your boot has landed on a dry twig hidden under the snow that snapped under your weight. The sound may not be loud enough to disrupt the peaceful silence, but it is loud enough to startle the sleeping bear.

A slow growl comes rumbling from the bear as it shifts on the porch, turning around slowly without getting up from the wooden floor, until you could finally see its face. Its heavy, droopy eyes flutter open and the bear blinks once, twice, only to huff deeply when it catches the sight of you standing there—right beside the porch, with your hands holding tightly on the baskets filled with wild fruits and fresh herbs and with your jaw dropping open—before the bear gives out a sigh and closes its eyes one more time, acting so nonchalant as if you are nothing for it to care about.

Surprised that the wild animal is making no move to attack you for bothering its rest, you begin to gather yourself together and slowly move closer, curiously eyeing the bear as you wait for it to make another move.

Still, as if it doesn’t truly care about you or too sleepy to give a damn about its surrounding, the bear falls back to sleep. Soundly. With a few soft purrs coming out of its chest that almost sounds like it is snoring in its sleep.

Your hand shakes as you gently put one of your baskets down and try to reach out, touching gently on the matted fur around its ankle that is stretched out in front of you and take a look closer. Your new friend is a male bear, judging from his looks and the battle wounds covering his whole body. He has a massive jaw, huge palms and sharp claws that could break your jaw and bones with one swipe of his hand. But for some reason, looking at him sleep like this pulls at your heartstring instead of making you fear for him.

And now you are conflicted between letting him to just sleep right there on your porch or tuck him under a blanket to let him have a better rest. Or perhaps you could just lead him to find somewhere else to sleep because the porch seems a bit too small for him and you have no idea how you are going to get inside when there is a huge bear getting in the way.

“Hey, hello?” you call out to him while gently poking on his side, using a small branch that you have gotten earlier during your walk. “You need to get up and find another place to sleep, big guy.”

The bear groans, obviously not amused to be awakened, yet it takes him a while before his eyes finally begin fluttering to open. Every movement he makes looks slow and steady, just as heavy as his whole body and as lethargic as a bear in his hibernation does. You begin to wonder where he had come from, when you had not seen any sign of wild animals roaming around the woods nearby, and why he had chosen to sleep here, of all places. But you choose not to dwell on it too much, for you are beginning to feel so cold that you just have to move past him and go back into the lodge.

“Hey, bear? Do you hear me?”

The bear groans once more, before he forces his eyes to open wider to look at you. “Look, I know you don’t understand me and I’m sorry for waking you up. But I need to get inside and you should probably find some other place to sleep, buddy.”

The bear is still giving you an empty look with his dark, black eyes, before giving you a yawn as an answer and then rolls to his back, making a move that looks similar to a sulking child.

“Yes, I know. It’s winter. You need to hibernate. But it doesn’t mean that you could do it here.”

All of a sudden, the bear pushes himself up from the wooden floor and sits back on his haunch. The movement happens so quick and swift that it catches you completely off guard, sending you jumping a few steps backwards and ready to sprint away. His eyes are still open, and he is still staring at you, looking still in a daze yet its gaze seems to be getting sharper when it regards your presence.

You make no other move to get closer, but you are also not running away. There is a nagging thought that keeps coming inside your mind, telling you to help him instead of sending him away.

Though how you are supposed to help a wild animal as large as he is is completely beyond you.

Keeping your eyes on him, you take another step closer, then another, his eyes are as black as the night as he is following every movement you make. He still makes no move as you reach down to gather your things and begin to step up the small stairs leading to the top of the porch.

The wooden plank beneath your boots creaks when you climb on the steps, and the bear’s eyes flicker to a silver glow at the noise before it disappears in a slow blink.

“Holy shitballs, you are a shifter,” you gasp, and the bear releases a soft groan rumbling from his chest. A heavy huff escapes through his muzzle. And now that you are staring at him from up close, you finally notice the exhaustion and despair in his eyes, almost just as deep as the wounds on his body.

“And you’re terribly hurt,” you murmur softly, while the bear suddenly perks up, showing obvious signs that he has been listening to you all along.

“Look, if you can understand me, then—” you start to convince him to leave the premises, only to stop when he looks up to you again. The flickering silver returns each time he looks at your face or whenever he takes a deep breath, and you suddenly cannot bear the thought of letting him roam the woods in the cold under his current state. Forcing a rueful smile, you look straight into his eyes to make sure that he is listening closely when you tell him, “Tell you what, you can rest here for now. But can you scoot over a little so I can get inside? It’s really freezing out here and I don’t have a thick fur covering my body like you do.”

The bear makes no move at first, while he still has his legs sprawled out in front of him, blocking your way to the door. Then his head tilts to the side, as if he is just processing your words, before he finally scoots sideways. His body looks terribly huge and heavy compared to you. Even the wooden porch slightly creaks under his weight, making you cringe a little while silently praying that it could hold steady underneath his large frame.

Seconds later, the bear is sitting sideways, giving you just enough room to walk over towards the front door.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile and slowly walk up the rest of the steps. You walk around him to reach the door, then stop right after you have it unlocked. “Here,” you turn back to him, handing him a handful of berries that you have gotten from your walk through the forest, piling them up over a folded napkin. “I didn’t get much of anything that looked safe enough to eat without being cooked, but I guess I can share you this.”

The bear looks reluctant to take the berries from you, but then he carefully reaches out, taking the napkin gently out of your hands with his sharp claws. The tip of his claw grazes at your skin as you pass the bundle of berries over to him, sending you a series of electric sparks that feel a bit odd and foreign as they run down your body that you quickly pull away.

“Alright, so—I’m going to leave you be. Goodnight, bear,” you gently say to him, forcing your voice to sound cheerful as you walk through the door.

Yet the bear doesn’t even acknowledge you, as he has his eyes locked on the berries which he is holding in his palms, looking as if completely amused by them. You can see his button nose twitching as he leans down to breathe in the sweet scent of the freshly plucked berries, the sight makes your chest feel constricted yet also warm at the same time, glad enough to provide something for him even if it just a little.

Deciding that it would be best to leave him and to give him his own space, for now, you choose to enter your new home quietly, shutting the door gently behind you before walking over to the window. You look out to watch him, just in time to see him picking up the berries with his massive claws, one small fruit at a time, putting it into his mouth carefully each time.

As if he is trying to savour the sweet taste.

The sight makes you wonder just how long has he gone through the cold season without any proper meal, and thinking about it makes you feel worried, until a thought comes to your mind. So you walk away from the window and make your way straight into the kitchen, instantly prepping yourself to make dinner.

For both you and your new furry friend.

Just as you grab the meat out of the freeze box while wondering if he has any intention to shift into his human form, you hear some sounds from outside as he is shuffling on the porch. Looking up through the window, you see the bear’s head nodding, as if he is trying to keep himself awake.

Only to fail.

Because all of a sudden, his whole body tilts to the side and he falls back down on the porch with a heavy thud.

The sound of his soft purr that comes out loud enough that it sounds similar to a human’s snores is heard only moments later.

The sky has turned dark when you are finally done fixing dinner.

With your starving guest in mind, you have gotten carried away and ended up making various kinds of meal to feed both of you. Though, of course, most of the course are made for the bear, with plates of cooked meat and grilled fresh fish as the main course. You have also added porridge and soup, both to give him some warmth just in case you could urge him to shift back into his human form.

Carrying the massive tray with all the plates of food in your hands, you carefully make your way out to the porch. The bear is still sleeping. Curling on his side with his front facing to the door, his chest rises and falls as he breathes steadily in his sleep. The thin layer of dust and snow covering the wooden floor shifts apart with each exhale of breath coming out through his button nose.

You bring the tray to his side and rest it gently on the floor, moving careful enough not to startle him.

“Hey,” you softly call out to him, almost falling to the urge to poke him to wake when he blinks his eyes open. “I brought you food. Maybe it can help you gain more strength to heal once your stomach is filled.”

His black marble eyes stay on you for a moment before he looks at the tray of food. The warm porridge and soup still steaming warm, beckoning him to reach out to them. But he makes no move to sit up.

“Come on, bear. You have to eat something,” you lean down to speak to him, even though his eyes never truly leave your face except for when he takes a quick peek at the food you have made for him. Your eyes rake down his matted fur, noticing more wounds appearing now that the lights on the porch have been turned on.

“Can you shift? Maybe if you try to shift into your human form then the wounds would start healing,” you try to convince him, then turn back to look at him in the eyes again as you offer him, “Unless you could let me look at them.”

This time, you finally gain a reaction from the bear. Though you cannot tell if he is acting out of your offer or from the way your hand is already reaching out to touch him before you even realise you are actually doing it. A deep gruff of disapproval is all you get from him as a response, before he slides back, giving you a once over then turns on the other side, showing you his scratched back in return.

I guess that’s a big no, you tell yourself as you sit back, pushing the tray of food aside so it wouldn’t get knocked over in case the bear stretches out in his sleep.

“Fine,” you finally give in, sighing defeatedly at the lack of interaction as you push yourself up on your feet. “I’ll leave you be and have my own dinner. Inside. Where it’s warm.” The words come out of you a bit sharp and snappy as you try to convince him to give in, until he makes no move and you have no other choice but to relent once again.

“Right. Just—ignore me.” You sigh. “Just try to eat something before the food gets cold.”

With no other response coming from the bear, you step away from the porch and back into the warm dining room so you could have your own dinner. Alone.

During the past week you have been staying here, sitting here alone at dinner has been something that you enjoyed doing. It had given you a chance to enjoy your solitude, which—after spending your time living in the coven together with the other witches and warlocks—had become quite a nice change.

Until now, when you have a shifter lying on your porch, all wounded and cold. The loneliness suddenly feels devastating when you had almost desired to have him sitting here with you, sharing the warm dinner nearby the fireplace as you exchange stories about his battles and your past journey.

Done with dinner, you clean everything out and make your way to the sunroom, returning to your altar after contemplating if you should abandon your routine for the night. Even if the room is located all the way to the back, it still has a clear view of the front window for you to look out to the porch. You give one last look out that window after lighting up all the candles, still seeing no movement from the bear, then you look away to begin your rituals.

Many days have passed since the dreams had stopped coming and you are still not getting any new ones. No other signs or answers to let you know what you need to do either that you are beginning to question if you really should be waiting any longer. You may not be thinking a lot of it during the daytime, when you make yourself busy taking care of the lodge and getting any means of survival. But at night, you would find yourself sitting in front of your altar, doing your rituals in the dead of the night until you finally give up.

Tonight, you have even more questions to sent out to the ancestors and the universe as you welcome a guest in your little hideout. As you recite the spells to call out for your elders, you can only hope that you could finally have the answers you need.

Outside at the porch, as the cold wind begins to pick up and flows stronger, the bear’s ears and nose twitch simultaneously. Not for the cold, but for the sensory overload engulfing him right at the same time.

The first thing that comes to him is the scent of the home-cooked meal coming from close by, coming to him strongly not only thanks to the wind, but also due to the hunger. It had been quite a while ever since he had gotten a decent meal. The last time he had ever eaten enough to fill his stomach was right before he was settling down to hibernate in the cavern right at the other side of the mountain.

Before the old wicked sorcerer came to disrupt his sleep and told him to travel all the way here.

All because he has a purpose, the old sorcerer had told him, though never with any further explanation except that he had to follow the mage’s instructions if he wants to survive.

The second thing that had woken him up tonight is the soft, rhythmic sound of someone reciting rites and passages. The words and language that he could hear are not something that he could recognise easily, but the voice has become familiar.

It belongs to the nagging little human who appears to be living in this tiny house, the bear wonders with a huff.

Giving up sleep when the rumbling sound inside his stomach grows louder, he rolls on his back and turns to the other side. The tray of food you carried out earlier is still there, sitting on the side of the porch and not too far away from the front door.

He gives out a huff when he finds that you have at least had the decency of keeping the meal covered under a cloche and inside small cases that look like lunchboxes, keeping them all warm under the intense cold outside. He finally understands why he could still smell the delightful scent as if you had just finished cooking them instead of having them out here in the cold for a few hours.

Once again, his stomach gives out a rumbling sound, as if speaking to him about getting himself fed. So the bear pushes himself off the floor, propping on his massive legs as he turns to the tray.

But now, as he finds himself standing slightly taller, another sight catches his attention from the windows and has his eyes drifting away from his meal.

Even when he is standing on all four limbs, he is still tall enough to look inside the house through the front window. The back of the house is visible from where he is standing. Even if the room you are in seems darker than the rest of them, he could still find you easily as you are completely surrounded by layers of candles set on various levels.

You are deep in your ritual, looking transfixed in your rites that continue to flow through your lips rhythmically that the sound nearly lulls him back to sleep. So deep into it that you are completely unaware of the pair of silver speckled eyes watching you silently from the distance in complete admiration and awe.

The morning feels a bit warmer than the day before when you wake up from, yet again, a dreamless sleep.

Sunshine comes shining through the window and you are grateful that you had managed to draw the curtains shut at the very last minute before you fell asleep last night. You take your time to wash up, before going out to the kitchen to make yourself something warm to enjoy the bright morning.

The front window comes to a full view as you walk past the living room, as you had left the curtains open in case the bear shifter would ever need anything from you. You move slowly towards the window, glancing out to take a quick peek to see if your new friend is still there. Sure enough, the giant bear is sleeping with his back facing you, breathing slowly in his sleep, as if the warm sun is not bothering his slumber at all, nor do the thin layer of snowflakes forming at the tip of his dark fur.

Last night, once you were done with your rituals, you had made a trip to the porch before going straight to bed to check on the bear and see if he had eaten anything. Only to find him sleeping, again, and his meal still untouched. But you had chosen to keep the tray outside, as you have set them all to stay warm with the covers on and a few binding spells added on the plates to secure them from the cold.

Now, however, as you look over towards where you had left the tray of food last night, you find all of the plates completely empty. The only few things that remain on sight are a few bread crumbs and the remnants of the grilled fish, as the bear had opted to leave its bones behind.

Your eyes return to him, smiling with relief when you could see the scratches that had marked most parts of his broad back are already healing.

The warming spells were not the only thing you added on his meal last night, as you had added a few drops of your special remedies into his porridge and soup. Just a harmless potion that you had made specifically for healing purposes. You were not completely sure if it would be enough to help the shifter heal, but it had probably reactivated his healing ability somehow to make it happen on its own.

Ten minutes later, when the sun has risen up high, you finally step out into the porch, just in time for him to open his eyes lethargically to look at you.

“Morning, sunshine,” you greet him with a fresh tray in your hands. A bowl of steaming porridge sitting right at the center, joined by a few bread rolls on the side. “I see that you enjoyed your meal. I bet it’s been a while that you’ve had some human cooked meal, haven’t you?”

You hear the bear growls softly as he stretches out and slowly sits back on his haunches, his eyes are locked on the large-sized bowl on top of the tray.

“Hungry? How about some breakfast?” you ask him before placing the tray right in front of him.

The bear stays silent, yet his dark eyes continue to stare at the hot meal. You have placed some utensils on the side of the tray, with the hopes that it could somehow encourage him to shift into his human form so he could eat normally. His palms and claws are certainly not created for human utensils, after all.

You watch him raise his big hands up to the front of his face, before he begins looking closely on each sharp claws as if he is seeing himself for the first time. Then, just when you think that he is going to shift, he reaches out, still with his massive bear palms, and grabs the bowl with both of his hands to take it up into his mouth.

Disappointed, you sit back down on the floor with a sigh. “Are you still not going to shift?” you ask him just as he is pouring the liquid porridge straight into his mouth as if he is drinking from a fountain. The bear halts, his eyes move quickly to your face for a brief moment when you ask him again, “How long have you been staying in this form?”

The bear only gives you nothing but silence, before he releases a low grunt and continues drinking the porridge straight from the bowl.

“How about a bath?” you finally make him an offer after he gives no other responses than a few low grunts as he continues to devour his meal, and he suddenly stops, looking up to your face with an unreadable look on his face. “I’m sorry if it sounds insulting but you do need one, you know,” you add jokingly, pinching your nose dramatically as if to make a point.

Though, to be fair, now that the air is a bit warmer, you could finally sense it—the bear actually does stink.

Giving you a disapproval huff, the bear looks away, completely ignoring you as he finishes his meal. He drops the empty bowl when he is done with it, then grabs the bread rolls, taking and eating them one at a time, chewing them surprisingly slower compared to how he practically gulped the main dish in record speed.

Once everything on the tray is gone, the bear leans back against the railing on the porch, looking full and sated, and already dozing away to sleep.

“Alright, fine, go back to sleep. Just don’t expect me to invite you inside if you’re not going to take a bath or shift into your human form. You are way too big to fit inside any room and you’re smelly,” you softly chastise him while gathering all the empty trays and plates away, keeping your head down to hide the smile forming on your face as you are relieved to know that he had once again filled his stomach with the remedy you had slipped into his meal.

He falls back down on the floor just when you are up on your two feet, looking up at you curiously when you meet his eyes.

“Remember, the offer still stands. I can prepare you some clean, warm water, or even a hot shower if you want one, and you can have my brother’s clothes once you are in your human form. Just let me know when. I can even hose you down at the back of the lodge if you’re still refusing to shift. Maybe some dose of clean water could freshen you up a bit.”

The bear gives you no answer. Only giving you a lazy huff and a tired sigh in return. Within seconds, his eyes are closed and you could hear him purring steadily, a sign that he has already fallen asleep.

Oh, well. It’s not like I didn’t even try, you silently cheer yourself up as you leave the bear on his own, entering the cabin without noticing that he has sneakily opened his eyes again. His half-lidded eyes continue following you, watching you until you disappear from his line of sight.

Another day has gone by and still, the bear continues to sleep on the porch, filling the tight space with his size and weight. You try to be patient and continue the whole pattern with your new friend—from sharing your meal with him, adding a few drops of your healing potion in his meal, making conversations and multiple offers for him to rest inside the lodge, to checking up on him every chance you get.

While his wounds and rashes seem to be healing, you still unable to help him shift back into his human side no matter what kind of offer you have given him. Neither of your potions could trigger his shift and you have to stop yourself from giving him too much of the remedies which would force him into shifting, worrying that the process might hurt him further instead of helping.

You are at a loss as to how you are going to deal with him, when it has become more than obvious that the shifter is in a terrible need for a bath. And the unmerciful weather wouldn’t allow him to stay outside a lot longer.

It is not until early morning on the third day when you begin suspecting that he may have been having some serious trouble in shifting after living feral for a little too long. Sitting next to him while he is enjoying his fried bacon for breakfast, you wonder if it was never his exterior wounds that had kept him in this form, but rather, there is something else hurting him within.

Did something happen to him in the past which left him traumatised, enough to keep him staying in this form to hide and prevent himself from reliving the past?

“What happened to you?” the words come slipping out as you wonder loudly.

The shifter rarely gives you a reaction whenever you try to ask anything about him. Not that he could—or would—speak as he is still stuck in this form. Hell, he never even bother to respond even when you are simply there to talk about the weather. But this time, a spark of hope comes inside your chest when he suddenly turns and looks at you, his hands stopping midair just as he is about to take a bite of his meal.

Finally getting his attention, you decide not to let the chance of getting through to him slipping away and ask him further, “How long have you been living out there in the wild like this?”

The bear blinks. His dark eyes seem so intimidating and yet, they seem so hollow, distant, showing you a dark mask of pain as he keeps his gaze on you. Then he sighs, almost showing you his human side for a second. Almost. Before he turns away and continues to gobble down his meal with deep growls come rumbling out of his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back against the front door. You know that he completely understands you whenever you speak. You know that he is listening. At this point, you know for sure that he is ignoring you on purpose.

So you decide not to push him, leaving him on his own to go about your day.

Until the afternoon comes, taking with it a wave of dark grey clouds to fill the bright sky with the wind picking up harder than usual.

You find the bear staring up at the sky when you return from scavenging for goods among the woods. He must have sensed it too, the incoming storm that is brewing on the horizon.

As you watch him closely, you contemplate between urging him to find a shelter or simply giving him one, inviting him in instead of abandoning him outdoors in the strong weather.

The bear shifter is still not showing any sign of leaving, and you don’t have the heart to kick him out of the premises on this kind of weather either. Not when the thought of having him out there fending for himself in the middle of snowstorm makes your heart clench tightly it hurts.

You still can’t figure out what to do with him, something that you have been feeling for a while since the day he came to your doorsteps, yet you simply continue to take care of him, thinking that he would be on his way the moment he starts to gain more strength. But now—

For a while, his presence has made you forget what exactly it was that you have been sent here for. The thought of finding answers and waiting for a sign has even slipped out of your mind with it being preoccupied with the bear’s needs and trying to figure out how to solve his problems.

Perhaps it is simply your way to cope, to marginalise the will and energy that you had mustered upon coming here. Using all that was supposed to be utilised in finishing the task given to you by the elders and to use them all to help another instead. Someone who is already here. When the bear becomes the obvious choice for you to focus on.

At least this way I won’t feel too lonely out here on my own, you entertain yourself whenever you look at him. If only he would shed those fur and start talking to accompany you like a normal cabin mate would. Then everything would be just perfect.

The sound of thunder rumbling in the sky snaps you out of your thoughts and you walk up to the porch, determined to get him inside.

“There is a snowstorm coming. We need to get you inside, big guy,” you call out to him, stating the obvious while trying your best to get him to finally give in. And for a moment, another spark of hope appears that maybe, finally, he is going to give in, to open up, to shift, when he slowly turns his head to you. Except that he doesn’t.

His dark eyes show no sign of changing into a human, and the next thing he does is push himself off the floor and begins to move slowly towards the front door. The stubborn bear is finally accepting your offer of going inside instead of staying out, except that he is doing it in his condition. No shifting involved.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” you sigh, following behind him so you could help open the door wider for him to enter.

What happens next is completely out of the norm. If only you are not the one experiencing this yourself, you would have laughed about it.

While the cabin is spacious enough on the inside, the front door is quite small. Especially when it is compared to his massive frame. It takes you a while to be able to push him in, the struggle leaving you feeling hot and sweaty, and terribly cranky. But you manage, after all, and soon the bear finds himself stumbling into the center of the living room. His shoulders are hunched forward after being forced to fill in through the doorway, yet you could hear his huffs and sighs as he lowers himself to rest on the floor.

“There,” you release a deep huff as you drop yourself on the nearby couch. “Damn, you’re heavy. See? It’s way more comfortable in here.”

The shifter pays no attention to you, however, as he has found something else that has caught his eyes. The fireplace.

But you have begun rambling to notice, listing out all the boundaries that he needs to follow if he really wants to stay in through the snowstorm. “Alright, so—this living room is where you’ll be sleeping. If you are willing to shift back into your human form, which I would prefer to see, then you could sleep in the guest bedroom and use the bathroom. I can still hose you down in the back if you want, but there’s no warm water for that option.”

As always, there is no reaction. And the bear has his eyes locked on the fireplace, watching the dancing flame with utter astonishment.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Instead of looking over to you, the only movement that the bear shifter makes is to drop himself back on the ground. As if propping himself to get himself warm in front of the fire.

You watch him for a moment, flabbergasted, then wave your hand. “Oh, whatever. In that case, the sunroom is where I work, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t go there and knocking things over. I still have to do a few rituals while I am staying in here. And my bedroom, right at the end of that hallway, is off-limits.”

This time, you finally gain his attention. It must have been something that you have said to him, but you are too exasperated and sore to care. So the only thing you do is leave your seat and begin making your way out of the living room. It isn’t until you catch the sight of your locked bedroom door to finally notice just what he has been paying attention to.

“Oh, so you were thinking about sneaking into my bed, huh? No way, not before your bath—” you accuse him teasingly, while the bear tilts his head, which is why you instantly add, “Or after. I really enjoy my privacy.”

The bear releases a series of annoyed huff and grunts. The first direct reaction that he has ever given you, you realise.

As you walk out of the living room, you could hear his giant body dropping down to the floor, no doubt already finding the perfect position to sleep. And you don’t bother to look over your shoulder to see him, as you are hiding the smile on your face from him as you walk away. Pretty sure even the bear himself didn’t even notice that he was grumbling, responding to you the same way his human counterpart would to your continuous nagging.

After successfully hogging the porch for three consecutive days, the bear has officially found something else to monopolise now that he is indoors.

The fireplace.

For some reason, the shifter seems to have grown fond of it that he has barely moved an inch ever since you left him in the living room earlier. But then again, you have no other choice but to understand him as you imagine him living out in the woods without any source of warmth. In his current form, pretty sure building up fire would be the last thing in his mind.

So you leave him be, choosing to give him some space as you carry on with your routines. It is not until dinner time when you come back to check up on him, finding him curling in front of the fireplace, close enough to the hearth to have its warmth engulfing him in his sleep. Even the wonderful scent of your home-cooked dinner couldn’t make him budge from his slumber.

“Hey, bear? How about some dinner?” you try to wake him up, kneeling close but holding back from poking him. For some reason, the urge to reach out and touch him has grown stronger over the days, but you are able to hold yourself back from doing what your mind is telling you to do.

What was it that people said about wild bears? Oh, that’s right. ‘Don’t go poking on bears if you don’t want to get into trouble,’ you remember the older warlocks said to you back then. Hence, you keep your hands to yourself, even when you are trying to gain his attention or wake him up from his sleep.

As always, the bear only answers with a lazy gruff. At least you keep on getting more reaction coming from him this time, as he slowly opens his eyes and raises his chin. Even if he doesn’t even make a move from his position. Still curling on his side, he peruses you with his gaze. The cold, dark eyes that you have grown used to seeing flickers to silver a few times, a sign that the shifter is listening to you.

You had initially planned to set up the dining table, thinking that perhaps it would coax him into joining you there. But you decide against it when you saw how comfortable he was by the fireplace and how it would be a futile effort on your part to convince him to shift his form over dinner.

Though it won’t stop you from trying to at least offer him some normalcy the best that you could give him.

“I made dinner,” you calmly repeat yourself while the bear shifter keeps his eyes on you. You shift slightly when he still doesn’t waver, feeling insecure under his gaze when it feels like he could see through you when you are still unable to read him at all.

You tilt your head, trying to lighten up the mood—and yourself from getting tense under his gaze. “How about we eat together?”

He gives another reaction, another sign showing you that he is actually listening to you. Blinking a few times, he turns to glance at the dinner table, taking in the sight of the extensive meal that you had prepared for dinner.

“I won’t force you to shift so you could sit with me on the table,” you quickly add before he ever gets a chance to give you any dismissive sound he would usually make. Though you also add, “Even if I want to,” under your breath right before you continue, “I’m saying that maybe we can sit down here and eat together and talk. Get to know each other, you know?”

Except that you have no way of gaining an answer from him. So, a one-sided talk, perhaps? Suddenly, you regret that you had decided not to learn mind-reading abilities when your sister, Marla, was choosing it as her main skill.

Just as you begin making an elaborate plan of having your sister teach you on how to infiltrate the shifter’s mind or dose up a potion that could make him speak, he suddenly pushes himself up into a sitting position, resting beside you with an intense gaze in his eyes. And you feel another spark of hope for having the first mutual interaction that doesn’t involve him dismissing you or having him grumbling flatly to everything you say.

Baby steps, little signs of progress are good progress, you remind yourself as you inwardly start patting yourself in the back.

“So I guess that’s a yes, then,” you perk up with a smile, before rushing to set all the food to start dinnertime.

Merely ten minutes later, you find yourself sitting crossed-legged on the floor with the bear shifter. Set up right in front of the fireplace, you have all the food that you have made earlier spread around you like a small indoor picnic. You lead the one-sided conversation while enjoying your salad and the shifter is gently picking on his second half of the medium-rare grilled fish you made for him. You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond as you tell him the whole story of all the previous times you had been here in search for solitude, but you keep on talking anyway.

If perhaps coaxing him into shifting doesn’t work in any traditional way, giving him the normalcy of a day to day life might do the trick. Let him feel and experience human activities to help remind him how to return to it again. If all fails, maybe listening to your rambles and rants and occasional nagging would be able to frustrate him enough to turn into a human even if he does it just to reprimand you.

Somehow, your monologue had reached the topic of families. As you are talking about your family—not your birth family, of course, just the family that you have found through the coven—you begin to wonder about his. His life, his past, and if there is somebody out there waiting for his return. Surely, a shifter like him would have a mate somewhere. Unless—

You bite your lips and suck a deep breath. As a human, the concept of mates or soulmates never truly registers, but you still cannot imagine how awful it would feel for a shifter to lose his mate. Especially when for them, mates are meant to be forever.

“Where is your family?”

The question slips right out of your mouth before you could stop it. Your curiosity about this shifter had gotten too strong for you to handle that everything that you have been wondering about just comes out.

“Where is your home? Is there anyone waiting for you back home?”

The shifter stops, but not without giving out a few deep growls in return. Just like that, the air between you shifts. Then the bear roughly dumps his plate and turns away, ignoring you.

“I’m sorry if it’s a sore subject. But maybe I could help,” you offer him, only to be disappointed and to feel terribly guilty when he no longer responds to you. With a deep exhale of sigh, you push yourself off of the floor and start to leave.

You know when you are not wanted. And you know that your curiosity had poked him too deeply that you might have to walk away before things get even worse.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try,” you finally resign and begin to clean up, gathering all the plates and leftovers to quickly be out of his way. “You know, one of these days, you are going to have to shift back. You can’t hide forever from whatever is haunting you.”

Tonight, a dream finally comes into your sleep.

Except that it is not the one that you have been expecting to see. Instead of getting a premonition to show your fate, the dream thrusts you back into the past. Taking you back in time to let you encounter one of the darkest moments in your life that you had wished to forget.

“Run,” you heard your mother screamed. Her voice was strained as she frantically looking back and forth between the rough pathway ahead and the threat chasing behind you. Her gaze was filled with fear and her fatigue shadowing behind it, mixed with her determination to keep on running. Her tight hold on your wrist was painful, so was the way the branches kept hitting your body in multiple places as she pulled you with her, but you let her drag you through the trees and did your best to match her pace, keeping up with her the best you could with your small legs. It was a hard struggle to follow her, as your height barely reached her waist. You were still too young to understand what exactly was going on.

The only thing you could understand then was that you were supposed to do what your mother told you and that the bad men were going to hurt you.

And from your mother’s screams, you knew that the men were getting close.

“Faster, ________. Run faster,” she screamed again after taking one last look over her shoulder that had her eyes widening in shock and rage. Hauling the bundle in her one arm while pulling you with her other hand, she launched forward, racing faster the best she could.

Until she couldn’t.

The wind suddenly picked up behind you before you heard his voice, sounding vile and menacing when he sent threats through the wind, “You can’t continue running from me, Agatha. I will not allow you to take what’s mine.”

“No!”

A bright light flashed through the trees, sending you and your mother flying from the ground. The impact had forced your mother to release her tight hold on your wrist. Using the last force she could muster to form, she sent you flying towards the opposite direction, hiding you under the protection of the thick bushes with the bundle that she carried falling right beside you.

Looking back to your mother, you pushed yourself up to your knees to run to her side. But the look in her eyes stopped you.

“Keep running, ________. Take it with you. No matter what happens, don’t look back,” she begged you. “Run, find your uncle Cian. Go!”

“No, Mommy.”

You pushed yourself up again, only to fall when your mother raised up a shield around her just as the cloaked man appeared from the trees.

“Run. Now!”

Peaceful. Warm.

Jin turns to the other side to get even more comfortable, his behind already feeling a bit too warm for being too close to the hearth. The snowstorm has begun to pick up outside. The wind blowing hard outside that there are parts of the cabin that are beginning to rattle. The walls and floors have grown cold as the snow thickens outside of these walls. But the fireplace keeps him warm as he curls on top of the rug in the middle of the living room and he has no intention to leave anytime soon.

He tries to settle down on his new position, already dozing off to another episode of slumber, when a soft wail interrupts him. He opens his eyes, making sure if he is hearing things right until another scream follows, not as loud as the storm outside but enough to send his hackles rising.

As if in a trance, he begins making his way towards the noise.

He finds his way through a small hallway. The door to the bathroom appears on one side, another door appearing not too far away. But what has dragged his attention is the door that has been left slightly ajar at the very end of the hallway, right on the opposite of the bathroom.

The cries continue, as if calling for him to come closer, and he willingly follows. He stops right in front of your door, giving it a little nudge for it to open wider. The lights inside the bedroom have been turned off, but you have left the curtains halfway opened, allowing a slither of moonlight to come in, illuminating you and the room dimly.

Through his beast’s eyes, he finds you on the bed, your form tossing and turning with a few strained cries coming out of your lips. You have managed to kick the blankets off of your body in the midst of your restless sleep and he could see goosebumps forming on your skin, evidence of the cold being present even when your hair is now soaked with sweat.

For a moment, he wonders just what he should do. Then he sits there in the doorway, watching you, unable to decide if he should leave you be or come closer. There is an urge clawing in his chest that begs him to climb onto the bed, to hold you tight, to pull that blanket back up to cover your body. But he doesn’t make any move to do any of it. All he could do is wonder and worry. He worries if you are in pain while he begins to wonder just why in the hell he cares so much about making you feel better and protecting you from whatever evil force is now haunting your sleep.

With each cry you make, he releases a growl. Not loud enough to wake you, but enough to have his body shaking in rage and his claw extending, as if he is willing to fight off your dreams for you. All through the night, he stays at your doorway, silently protecting you from the invisible monsters from your past.

Something is off.

Ever since you woke up this morning to the rattling sound of the roof against the wind, you had found the bear constantly watching you. He was already awake when you left the bedroom, sitting patiently on alert in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open. As if he has been expecting you, he immediately looked at you as you emerged from the hallway, then he kept on watching everything you were doing as you continued with your morning routines.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enjoyed your morning coffee while sitting by the window, watching the weather growing more intense by the second. Choosing not to pay attention to him, you had only placed a large bowl of chicken porridge before eventually ignoring him, leaving him to his own device. Only that the move had only seemed to prompt him into vying for your attention more eagerly.

After following you all morning while you were busy in the kitchen and when you were cleaning up the room, he had chosen to bring his breakfast with him as he moved away from the fireplace to sit right next to you by the window. This act surprised you, but you did your best not to look his way, choosing to play it off as if you were still annoyed with him while waiting to see what his next move would be.

This pattern continues for the rest of the day.

Wherever you go, he would follow. He continues to watch you closely as you keep yourself busy the entire day while you are locked together inside the cabin. When you enter a room, you would find him sitting and waiting for you outside the door. Whenever you are out in the living room, he would be there, staying close while watching you. It feels creepy to be stalked by a giant bear in your own home, until you secretly look over when you are setting up for your lunch to see him sitting upright with his arms extended, as if he wants to protect you from the knife you are holding.

Outside, the snowstorm has become more intense. This kind of weather and storm could last the whole day, sometimes even until the next day before continuing for weeks on end, specifically on this part of the region. Something that most people are completely aware of and why everyone has always chosen not to be anywhere nearby.

Inside, the tension continues to rise just the same.

As the day goes by and slowly closing in to the nightfall, the bear keeps on hovering around you, slowly invading your personal space further the more you try to ignore him. After continuously dismissing you and ignoring you, this new situation leaves you wondering if there is something wrong.

Has he only been rude to you to test you? Or did something happen that you are completely unaware of to have this change?

Things only get weirder when nighttime comes. When the bear shifter stays close even while you are doing your ritual, when he pays more attention to you—who chooses to be silent and let him be—instead of his meal.

You brush away the curiosity of this change and choose not to dwell on it when you suddenly feel too exhausted to care after having your energy drained through your evening ritual. You already feel terribly exasperated after not having enough sleep while still not getting any premonition that you don’t have any energy left to even wonder about what is going on with your guest. Giving him the only greeting for the day, you bid him goodnight before heading to bed, shutting yourself inside the shelter of your bedroom. The steady sound of the storm still forming outside becomes the tuneless music that lulls you to another deep slumber, before another dream quickly takes over.

This witch coven was completely different than the place you were born in. You had lived in a much darker place for nine years, but it had somehow made you feel warmer instead of being here.

Bright, with massive windows overlooking the snowy hills, a massive fireplace taking over the main lounge and a large dining table in the seating area next door, you felt intimidated as you sat at one of the chaise sofas.

You kept your eyes on the falling snow outside, hugging the bundle that you had been carrying tightly onto your chest while you tried your best to ignore the conversation happening right on the other side of these walls.

“She can’t stay here!” you heard the woman who had opened the doors for you earlier whisper shouting.

“There is no other place for her to go,” a male voice responded.

“Of course, there isn’t. You can’t simply hide the heir of a Dark Warlock and expect it would be okay,” she hissed.

“Lower your voice,” he said, hissing back. “Everything is going to be okay. This isn’t forever.”

“Like hell, it is. You don’t mess with the person who was crazy enough to try and resurrect the Dark Alliance which had led the Blood War. He is going to bring hell to us all and he won’t take lightly to whoever is hiding her from him.”

You brought your knees to your chest and hid your face into the bundle, breathing in the scent that it was carrying. The scent of perfume that your mother had always worn. Closing your eyes, you wept for your mother, tearing up as you remembered what you had witnessed back in the forest when your grandfather’s men had captured her on sight. And you were too powerless to stop it from happening.

“________.”

You turned to see the man who had brought you to this place returning to your side. He knelt down, smiling warmly to you as you perked up and ready to leave. Even as a child, you knew when you were not wanted. And it was obvious that your presence was not welcomed by everyone in this massive house.

“Uncle Cian? Are we leaving now?”

Mage Cian only shook his head. “No, kiddo. You’re going to stay here for a while. It’ll be safer for you to stay here rather than coming with me. I’m going to come back and pick you up whenever it’s safe for us to return home.”

“No,” you begged him just as he stood up, already turning away from you. “No, don’t leave me! Uncle Cian!”

You kept crying for his name, but the man kept on walking away, not even turning around to look at you as he stepped out of the room and leaving you on your own in the foreign place where everyone had refused to give you a home.

You wake up in the morning to bright sunlight coming from the window.

The weather outside has calmed down, though you know that the snow would be thicker than your front porch at the moment. Meanwhile, you wake up finding your face wet with tears, no doubt the result of the painful dream that you had gotten in your sleep.

Kicking the comforter, you find it already dangling halfway off of the bed, leaving only the thin linen cover hastily covering your body. The air is much warmer than it was the day before, but you still shiver as glimpses of your past memories return to you.

Why you keep on getting these dreams, looking into your past instead of finding answers for the future is beyond you. Your brain is still fuzzy when you step out of the bed and make your way out of your room. The morning sun is shining brightly outside and you already have a long list of things to do, including checking on the cabin’s condition to see if it had survived through the storm despite all the noises you have been hearing all day yesterday and throughout the night.

Your attention is divided between recovering from the restless sleep and already preparing to face the day that you barely pay attention to where you are going. Which is why you nearly stumble and fall when you open the bedroom door to find your guest sleeping right outside, his massive frame blocking the doorway.

You stop yourself from stepping on him with a gasp. Your heartbeat picks up but you swallow down the shock. Watching his chest rising and falling, you ponder between waking him up or leaving him be before finally going around him, tiptoeing down the hallway as you race into the bathroom.

Under the hot shower, all of your morning musings are quickly replaced by wondering about your new friend.

The frustration that you had felt for him grows into curiosity and you spend the entire time in your bath thinking about the changes in the bear’s attitude and why he has been acting the way he does.

If only I could question him about it, you wonder, before shaking it off and begin focusing on how you are going to get through the day.

Done with the shower, you curse at yourself when you realise that your rush to the bathroom earlier had made you forgotten to bring fresh clothes for you to change into. Reaching out to the only towel you could find—while whispering another curse for being so tardy in dealing with your dirty laundry when you only find a smaller one—you cover yourself the best you could with it, even as its size could only cover your body as fas as the under-curves of your bottom.

Having no wish to flash yourself in front of the bear shifter, you take a quick peek out the door to see if he is still blocking the door to your bedroom. Seeing him nowhere in sight, you breathe a sigh of relief and dash out towards your bedroom, clutching tightly on the towel around you to keep it from falling.

Yet, once you rush past the doorway, you skit into a halt with a scream as you are once again caught by surprise. This time, for finding the bear sleeping on top of your bed, snuggling in your blanket with his nose buried in your pillows and his eyes opening slowly to see you standing by the doorway. But the bear doesn’t budge, as he is still pressing his face into your pillows. With each deep breath he takes to breathe in your scent, your shock turns into rage.

“Seriously? I already told you that my bedroom is off-limits,” you shout at him while clutching your towels tighter around your body.

“You really are trying to spread your stink all over my house, aren’t you?”

The big bear growls and rolls over from your bed, falling onto the floor with a loud thud. His eyes blink slowly, as if he had fallen in a deep sleep while you were enjoying your hot shower.

“Look, I’ve said this many times before and I’m going to tell you this again. Either you shift and take a damn bath yourself or you let me hose you down in the back of the house. Then you can sleep wherever you like,” you tell him with a long, exasperated sigh. You have grown tired of repeating yourself when he never bothers to listen. The only responses he gives you would either be a dismissive huff before he would flop back down on the floor or pretend he cannot hear you at all.

It’s starting to make you feel like talking to a wall.

This time, however, the bear looks into your eyes with his dark ones, showing you that he is actually listening and somehow, looking like he is about to respond.

With a deep irritated grunt, the bear sits back on his butt with his hind legs spread in front of him on the floor. You have to bite back the smile that is threatening to show up because he looks…cute, whenever he does that.

Like teddy bear cute.

“Well?”

The bear tilts his head at you and huffs. His shoulders rising and falling as if he is sighing deeply, then raises up on his legs to start walking out the door, barely avoiding a collision with you as you are frozen still before you finally snap out of it and jump out of the way.

You still have your eyes on him when he stops right in the middle of the hallway between the main bedroom to the shower room at the end of the hall. He stands still, sighing dramatically one more time before it finally happens. His body shudders for a second, then his thick black fur begins to melt, disappearing into a layer of creamy skin.

After a few minutes long of fur melting, bones snapping, shoulders shaking later, the dark brown bear that has been hogging on your porch for days then continued hounding your personal space for the past three days disappears.

Standing right in his place is a man. A very naked man.

Tall with wide shoulders and muscles so firm you know they will feel hard under your palms, soft creamy skin with beautiful drawings made in black ink marking the sleeves of his arms and around his back, and black mussed hair that looks soft to the touch. Your jaw drops as you continue to marvel in his beauty, unaware to the fact that your eyes have begun to travel down south, all the way down to his plump bottom and toned legs.

Then, all of a sudden, the man turns to his side, just as your eyes seem to be plastered right at his lower regiment, allowing you to see the private part standing ready between his legs—massive-sized, strong and hard, with beautiful mushroom tip, and—

Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell am I doing? You curse at yourself for looking, right after you had just chastised him for entering your personal space and being angry at him for looking at you when you were nearly exposed. Snapping out of it, you quickly look away and pretend that you had not seen anything when you push the door to your room and slam it shut.

But you were too late. And even he knows it.

Because right before the door ever managed to obscure your line of sight, your eyes had landed on his face. It was a quick glance, but enough for you to catch his beautiful face, his plump lips curling to a smug smirk while his eyes were filled with mirth which only gave away that he had caught you ogling over him.

It doesn’t take long before you can hear the door to the shower room closed shut and the sound of running water echoes through your small cabin.

Standing in your room with your forehead pressed against the door, you start wishing for the ground to swallow you whole and let you disappear before he would finish and step out of the shower. Before you have to face him and talk.

Actually talk. Instead of just you having a monologue to an unresponsive bear. But at least talking to a silent grouchy bear was much easier. Now you have to figure out how to face him with a straight face after what you just saw.

Man, this is going to be a long dreadful winter.

You have been pacing back and forth right in front of the guest bedroom for ten minutes, perhaps more, contemplating between knocking on the locked door or to just simply stay out of his way and keep your distance until he is ready.

The bear shifter, now completely human, is currently right behind this door. And you have no clue what he is doing since you have yet to hear anything coming from inside. Yes, you did press your ear on the wooden door to listen in to know what he is up to, but what other choice do you have?

You had been hiding in your bedroom while he was in the shower. He had taken his time with his bath, enjoying his moment, but you have chosen not to complain about it when it had given you a sufficient amount of time to get yourself together before you could face him again. If ever.

You heard him shutting off the water and heard him locking himself in the guest bedroom, then waited twenty minutes in the safety of your room until you finally walked out through the hallway when he never returned to you. And time had passed since then and he still has yet to emerge from his hiding, making you wonder if something is wrong.

Still not getting any sign from him, you begin making your way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and make yourself a cup of coffee. Or any other hot drinks that could work together with rum. Only to stop on your tracks when the door swings open and he emerges through the doorway.

He shouldn’t look intimidating in his human form after you had gotten used to seeing him in his beast form, yet he somehow does. Even when he looks so lost as he is standing there, looking a bit apprehensive before he finally notices you watching him.

“I—is everything okay?” you ask him, surprising him a little with your voice before he quickly nods.

You look down on the clothes he is wearing that seem to be a tight fit on his body. “Are the clothes okay? Those are my brother’s,” you tell him, feeling glad that you had bothered to rummage through your brother’s belongings to find him some clothes that he could wear, just in case he would ever decide to shift. You had no idea how big he would be in his human form. He seems to be a bit taller than your brother, Jooheon, but at least the width of the clothes seems to be enough. “I’m sorry, my brother is the only man who had ever stepped foot into this cabin so there is no other option to offer you than his clothes.”

As you look up to him, the insecurities and doubts you saw on his face fade away, replaced with the same smug smile which greeted you earlier when he responds to you with, “It’s perfect.”

You feel his eyes on you as you pace back and forth in the kitchen, between dealing with the coffee and the sizzling bacon on the stove while he takes a seat on the dining table. Neither of you has talked after the awkward exchange you shared earlier when he came out of the guest bedroom, as you immediately scurried off to the kitchen with him tailing close behind.

No matter how much you have gotten used to being surrounded by warlocks and sorcerers back at your coven, nothing could prepare you to deal with this. You have never once had to deal with a bear shifter before.

Especially not someone who is as good looking as he is.

“What’s your name?” you ask him when he still doesn’t say a thing. And only because you could feel the heat of his gaze burning on your back.

He raises his head just as you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze that seems to be sparkling with amusement when he catches you looking. “I—my name is Kim Seokjin. You can call me Jin.”

“Well, Jin, it’s good to finally have a name to call you with. My name is _______. I can’t remember if I’d told you before,” you say with a smile, earning a mirroring warm smile coming from him.

“I would remember if you did.”

Once you are done plating all the meal and have finished serving the steaming hot coffee, you join him at the table. After spending days of rambling and trying to spark a conversation with him, you have somehow found yourself completely in a loss for words now that he is capable of responding to you. The breakfast continues in awkward silence, though you still feel him looking up to you most of the times while you keep looking away.

For each time when you do finally look his way to force yourself to speak, you are reminded of the scene you had witnessed earlier and your cheeks start to heat up, forcing you to look away before you could start picturing him without his clothes on.

What a way to start getting familiar with your guest, you chastise yourself as you finish up your meal. There are things to do today, starting from tending the old cabin and to see if there is any damage that you could find after the intense storm. There is no doubt that it would not be the only storm that you would have to endure, so a few fixing needs to be done. And for that to happen, you need to get yourself together and focus.

That includes not to replay the image of his naked skin in your head each time you look at him.

Pushing yourself off of your seat to hide the way you are feeling tense under his gaze, Jin stops you from moving. “I’ll clean up. It’s the least I could do after all your help,” he offers. With his gaze so deep and intense as he regards you, there is no way you could refuse.

“Sure. Thank you. I need to get ready to do some things too.”

The kitchen suddenly feels so tight and small as you move around him. Heat keeps spreading across your cheeks to each time you brush against him. You let him deal with the dishes while you gather some stuff to do a clean up outside of the cabin. Then he turns around, losing his balance that he has to hold on tightly on the table.

“What’s wrong?” You rush to his side, hovering close but careful enough not to touch as you try to find if there is still any injury left on his body. You were sure that the remedies you have been secretly giving him are enough to cure him, yet you begin to question it when he looks as if he could fall anytime.

Looking at you with a sheepish smile, Jin merely waves his hand at you. “No—nothing,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s just—it still feels weird. It feels—really light.”

The shock and worries quickly wane down as you laugh. He might still be taller and bigger than you are as a human, yet his bear form is nearly twice as big as he is now. The change has been so drastic that there is no doubt it would take some major adjustments for him if he is going to stay in this form from now on. “I’m sure it is,” you mutter to him, before asking him the one question that you had repeatedly asked him. “How long?”

He shrugs, as if he already knows what it is that you are asking him. “I’ve gone through two winters. This would have been the third, if I count correctly.”

“More than two years?” you gasp, your eyes widening when you simply can’t believe him.

He chuckles softly at your reaction. “Not more. But give or take, it might have been that long.”

You really have nothing to say to him and you could only stare at him with your jaw dropping. From the little knowledge you have learned about shifters, you know just how bad it could be for any of them to stay in their beast form for a long time. Some of them will become feral, losing every bit of their sanity left as they give the reign of control to the animal counterpart within them. For him to stay living in the wild as a bear for two years is baffling enough that you wonder just what kind of trauma he had endured to lead him into refusing to return to his human side.

The question is there, hanging right at the tip of your tongue. But the memory of his bear getting annoyed with you when you questioned him before returns and it is enough to have you keeping your mouth shut.

“About earlier—” he begins to speak, cutting you off from your thoughts. “I’m sorry. My bear, he—he was in complete control and I have no idea why, but it seems that he’s been having the urge to—”

“To what?”

He gives you a rueful smile before he explains himself, “You were having nightmares.”

Your eyes grow wide. You could barely remember the dark memories that had filled your dreams, except for glimpses of faces and the faint sound of noises. But you do remember waking up crying and feeling so tired, as if you have been chased all night.

“I heard your voice. You were screaming and crying in your sleep, and my bear felt the need to protect you. That’s why he moved and slept right outside your door, so he could stay close.” He stops, furrowing his brows thoughtfully before adding, “It seems like all he wants to do is to be close to you.”

Giving him a cheeky smile when he appears terribly guilty with this revelation, you ask him, “That’s why you were shadowing me the other day?”

His face grows red and he tries to hide it by laughing nervously. “Yeah, about that—my bear was worried about you.”

You scoff at that confession. “Right. That’s why he’s been so rude to me.”

Jin laughs a little and shakes his head. “He does need a bit more practice in socialising,” he says. “We both do.”

‘Tell her.’

Jin says nothing to respond to his bear’s demanding tone, but he keeps his eyes on you as you knock on the outdoor walls of the cabin, trying to see if any of them would budge under the pressure. He has offered to join you when you told him about your plans on checking on the cabin’s condition and see if there is damage that has been done by the storm. Jin had taken over the part of checking on the roof, finding no damage there even after those loud noises they make in the middle of the storm. And now he is hovering close to join you as you are checking on the walls and the porches, trying to see if there is anything broken there.

This is an old cabin, after all. To see it still standing strong after that intense weather change is quite surprising, but a huge relief on his part.

‘Now is not a good time,’ Jin finally answers with a scoff, just as he sees you walking away to the backdoor of the cabin, checking on the locks. His bear has been nagging him all morning and it is becoming a pain in the ass for him to deal with.

The bear within him has always been a stubborn one. After years of reigning his body, he had only gotten worse on it. Now his bear wouldn’t listen to him. At all.

‘We’ve waited for too long. We’re here now. Tell her before it’s too late.’

Jin rolls his eyes. ‘Hey, chill. It’s not like any of us are going anywhere.’

The bear growls, but says nothing more. And it is a good thing because you suddenly return to him, appearing from the back corner to find him. “Hey, I’ve checked everything and it looks like the only thing we need to fix is that downspout at the front and the hinges for the backdoor. You sure the roofs are okay?”

Jin tersely nods. “I saw nothing wrong up there. But I can check again tomorrow morning, just in case.”

“Okay,” you smile at him, making his heart jump and his bear pouncing on his front paws. “We do need to get some firewoods,” you add just as he shakes all his giddiness off of his shoulders, looking over as you point out at the stack of firewoods on the side of the cabin, all covered in snow. “We’re already running out of them and the rest that we still have out here are now soaked.”

“I can help you with that,” he quickly offers you when he notices the tired lines on your face.

You wave your hand at him. “Alright, but you can do it tomorrow too. You still need to get used to this body, don’t you?”

‘You can help us get used to this body, alright,’ he hears the bear speaks, huffing like a wild animal that he quickly shoves the beast away.

‘Knock it off. You will only scare her if she ever finds out what you’re thinking.’

The bear curls up in his corner inside Jin’s mind under his scolding and says nothing more. Adding only one small thing before he goes completely silent. ‘But we’ve been searching for our mate for a long time. Now mate is here. What if she goes away?’

Just like them. Jin could finish his sentence even without either of them speaking those words out loud.

Jin keeps his eyes on you as he follows you back into the cabin. Even if he keeps refusing to do what his bear wants him to, he still admits that he needs to do something to make sure that he wouldn’t let you disappear. For now, however, he would just keep an eye and watch over you, try to get closer and get to know you better while letting you feel more familiar to his presence. The bear inside him is not the only one who is feeling the strong mate bond forming to tether him to you as if you are the center of his universe. Already feeling the silent need of keeping you close the entire time and refusing to let you slip out of his sight, Jin silently swears to keep you safe from harm.

“Mage Cian?”

Jin looks at you with a frown. You are sitting with him on the front porch for a lunch break, talking about a few things that you had wanted some answers to but couldn’t get before he shifted. He had just told you about the sorcerer who had somehow sent him to this area before he finally found his way to your cabin.

“You know him?” He should be surprised to find that you both have a mutual friend, but he had known the sorcerer for a long time already to know that he had probably travelled far enough to meet almost everyone on this land.

Keeping a tight smile on your face, you shrug lightly. “An old acquaintance. He was a good friend of my Mom,” you simply tell him. You should have probably told him more, but it is hard to explain everything when you feel a bit apprehensive with the mage in question.

Mage Cian is a good man, your mother’s best friend who was more like a brother to her when she was still alive. He had saved you after your mother took you away from the coven where you were born in and had taken you to a safe place where nobody could find you. But it is hard to think more of your godfather other than those moments when all he had done for you was to hand you to another witch and had only kept in touch by sending letters once a month and small gifts on your birthdays.

“I see,” is the only thing Jin says when you choose not to say anything further.

“So—what did he tell you, exactly?”

Jin’s brows crease as he recalls the day the mage interrupted his attempt to sleep. The old mage had been cryptic in his instructions. He had barely given him enough clear directions to find his way to reach this place. If it wasn’t for his bear taking over, he would never have gotten here just in time for the snowstorm to hit him. And that is all that he could share with you when he has no further explanation of his predicament and the reasons why he is here.

“Did you find it hard to get here?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckles softly. “I just—I got lost for a little bit. I couldn’t focus on what the Mage was telling me when he was giving me the direction or when he was telling me what to find so I got a few troubles on the way here.”

‘But she was the beacon,’ he hears his bear adding an answer inside his head. ‘We felt her existence and we followed it until we found her. Tell her.’

Jin closes his eyes and pushes his bear away. In the past, he would just let the bear takes over just so he wouldn’t be able to think. So he wouldn’t remember. But now he does his best to hold the damn beast back before he would say something that could possibly scare her away.

“You told me that he is a friend of your mother,” he asks you once his bear is silent. “Is she back at your coven?”

You give him a sad smile when you shake your head. “My Mom died a long time ago, when I was a kid. Mage Cian was my godfather, so he took me in, placed me in a different coven that finally adopted me as their own family member. He has been spending years on the road while building his own coven, so I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jin murmurs softly. “And your siblings?”

Your smile grows wide this time as you think about your ‘family’. “My brothers and sisters from the coven are not bonded to me by blood, but I grew up with them and to me, they are my true family.”

Jin stiffens. “Including the brother who owns these clothes?”

Nodding your head, you smile giddily at the thought of Jooheon. You will always remember how he had helped you through the tough times that you had when you were simply a newcomer in the coven, before the rest of the ‘family members’ in the coven finally welcomed you with open arms. “He helped me fit in with the other orphans that grew up with me then. He used to come here to do his rituals on his own, but now he’s married and he’s leading the training and practises for the younger wizards that he could barely go anywhere.”

“Oh, I see,” Jin murmurs softly as he breathes a sigh of relief. The tight smile on his face changes into a warm and genuine one after hearing your story. Even if it still doesn’t make him happy to hear that you had some tough times growing up. He is quite surprised to find him feeling jealous once he found out that the owner of the clothes he is wearing is not truly your brother by blood. To think about you living with another man, laughing with him, having this man knowing you personally, the thought alone keeps clawing inside his chest that he has to hold back his growl just so he wouldn’t scare you away.

Meanwhile, you are completely oblivious to the turmoil weighing on him, already looking faraway across the front yard as you wonder loudly just how thick the blanket of snow covering the ground has become.

‘Mate is ours.’

His bear starts nagging at him inside his head with the need to mark you as his, to which Jin could only respond with. ‘I agree. But we need to take our time. We can’t risk losing her. The bond will work in our favours, we just have to let her feel it first.’

The bear reluctantly agrees and retreats, but not before adding his final thoughts. ‘If it were up to me, we’ll be claiming her already by now.’

Jin can no longer suppress his growl. While he cannot exactly blame his counterpart for having his animal instincts dominating his mind, he blames himself for letting the beast reign over him for too long to have such strong thoughts of his own. He can only hope that you could finally feel the mate bond before the beast would take action, because he has no idea how to control his own bear if it would ever come to it.

Author’s Note: Care to meet our gorgeous OCs? Get to know the characters and pairings from the Characters Guide

Masterlist | Ko-fi

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