#the hunter gatherer part of my brain is pleased

[gallusrostromegalus]

Herschel Has Discovered Tool Use. Again.

In january of 2021, deep in the throes of pandemic psychosis, we acquired a Corgi Puppy.

I would like to go on the record that we did not get a Corgi because they're cute. We got a Corgi because they're criminally brilliant and enthusiastic working dogs that were bred to bully cattle, which is the exact temperment a dog living in a house with three ADHD adults should have. Herschel does commit a lot of crime, but he also does his appinted service-dog job of "make everyone wake up, eat meals and go to bed at a reasonable and consistent time" extremely well, as well as his bonus jobs of "Keep the squirrels the hell out of the garden" and "Yell every time the cat does something". I didn't actually ask him to do that last job but it has helped in the "teach the cat to stay the hell off the stove" area.

But even with having a whole pack of humans another dog, and a cat to manage, this pales in comparison to his genetic capacity to manage several hundred sheep or cattle across the fields of Wales, and thus, Herschel has decided on further intellectual pursuits to occupy himself, namely, speedrunning the early phases of human tool use and terraforming.

I realized he has the brains of an entire hunter-gatherer tribe shortly after he got fixed, and within 24 hours and still dpey from anesthesia, he'd figured out that his plastic cone could be used to monopolize the water bowl and his favorite chew toys, and within a week, had learned how to carry three toys at once while leaving his mouth open by tucking the toys behind his enormous ears and under his chin. He also figured out that he could wiggle the cone to rest against his shoulders, and started using it as a shovel by literally running the bottom edge into the ground. But that wasn't making holes effeicently enough, apparently, and I ended up watching him figure out how to rotate the cone around so the two pieces of overlapping plastic were under his chin, then use his chin and the stairs to the deck to pinch both ends into a much more efficient V-Shape that let him gouge huge strips of dirt up in seconds. The anthropologists and animal behaviorists in the audience may recognize this as Tool Creation, a behavior normally only seen in higher primates, crows, and some parrots. Once a hole of suitable length, depth and temperature had been achieved, he very carefully rolled the cone around so the digging side was over his head and the smooth side under his chin, and splooted into his hole to cool his little tummy and stitches off. It was at that point that I realized that I was going to have to teach him how to garden, or he was going to teach himself.

He no longer has the cone (He was beginning to experiment with it as a battering ram), but his morning ritual is now "Wake everyone up at 8AM by screaming, locate everyone in house and jam my nose up theirs to make sure they're alive, go outside and scream at the squirrels. Now that Yard is Secure, go get Fun Parent who has hopefully taken their meds by now, and supervise them while they rifle through the plants (this is apparently KEY to their mental health), eating any pest animals Fun Parent points out, chase squirrel AGAIN, go inside and get Breakfast cookie." and BY GOD if we deviate from it there will be much screaming and destruction. If I am not home, it has been reported that he walks round the garden beds and sniffs the plants in the order I usually check them in before he will agree to come in. He doesn't quite know what the deal with the melons is, just that they need to be checked.

But we're out of the labor-intensive parts of gardening and now into Harvesting Season, and this is a bit boring except when I give him snap peas right off the vine, and he has decided to work on the complex physics problem that is Doorknobs.

And last week, he had a breakthrough.

Sometime in 2020, my mom sort-of taught her horrible crime herding dog Arwen how to open the back door so she could let herself out as she pleased during the day and stop interrupting Mom's Zoom calls. Arwen is a Kelpie, which means she's about 60lbs with full-length legs and horrible monkey paws that are one joint away from being hands, so when Arwen wants to open the back door, she sits up, leans on the door for purchase/to push it, and uses her terrible crime hands to *push* on the knob until it turns. She can pull the knob open by pawing and catching it on her toes, but she's 11-13 years old now and has mild arthritis, so she prefers to catch it on her central pad instead. She taught Charlie, the other equally brilliant but less criminally inclined dog, to do this but he doesn't like to go outside alone, so he rarely does this.

Herschel, ever the observant student, immediately tried copying them, but even though he is actually tall enough to reach the knob, his toes are just too stubby to get a decent grip on the knob, pushing or pulling, and the first few times, gave up and sat down to scream until one of the fullsize dogs or humans came to open the door for him.

Last week, we were up at my parent's again, and I watched him hunt around the living room until he found his slightly-sticky orange rubber ball (It's clean, it's just a kind of rubber that's always a bit tacky), carry it across the house, stand up on his hind legs at the back door, put the rubber ball on top of the gap between the knob and the wall, and then push down on the ball, which caught the doorknob and turned it for him, thus opening the door. He let himself out, had a merry time yelling at the squirrels, came back in, stopped a few feet inside the door, went back out, grabbed his ball, and brought it back into his kennel, a place he can leave toys if he doesn't want the other dogs playing with them.

This means he somehow worked out how doorknobs work, how fucking levers work, and that his orange rubber ball specifically was the one that would work (none of his other toys are the correct size/texture), that he'd need that ball specifically to open the door again, and yesterday he did the same trick with the bedroom door, so he knows that the rubber ball/skeleton key can be used on all doorknobs, not just that one.

I wonder if I can teach him to sweep.

___

If you want to fund Herschel's research into Tool Use and/or get me therapy for the ensuing chaos, please feel free to donate to my Ko-Fi, or get further Dog Content by subscribing to my Patreon.

[dmwrites]

Gem wasn’t sure how she’d been roped into this, but she was standing outside, at night, with a flashlight and a hoodie from Pearl over her dress. Grian, Scar, and Impulse were gathered around a map as she approached the bridge between Grian and Mumbo’s bases.

“Ah, there’s our other G!” Grian said, turning when he heard her footsteps and waving Gem over.

“Guys, what on earth are we doing? Old houses and buildings are one thing, but Hermitcraft? Nothing here was built over two years ago! What kind of ghosts could you possibly think exist here?”

“I don’t know, but there is some serious evidence that there is a ghost on this server.” Impulse said seriously. “We have freezing temperatures in some places-”

“What, like on top of mountains? Or in ice biomes?” Gem scoffed.

Impulse gave her a withering look and continued. “Scar swears he’s seen ghost orbs-”

“I saw them with my own two eyes!” Scar said.

“I thought you could only see them through cameras?” Gem asked.

“And, most importantly, we have a witness.” Impulse said proudly.

“A witness?” Gem asked.

“With bottled proof of this ghost’s existence.” Impulse continued proudly.

“If this witness has actual, real proof that ghosts exist, this could be groundbreaking for the world of ghost hunting.” Grian said, zipping up his backpack. “Okay, let’s go! Lead the way to the witness, Impulse!”

——

The second team GIGS landed in the hole in the ground, Grian made his thoughts known.

“Zedaph is our ghost witness? Impulse, please, you’re supposed to be the brains here. It’s not that I don’t like Zed, but he’s kind of…”

“How do we know he hasn’t been sniffing his test tubes as a zedvancement and hallucinated this all up?” Scar finished the sentence for him.

“Just wait and see.” Impulse replied.

Zedaph came out of a side tunnel moments later, holding a lantern in one hand and a small jar of fluorescent green liquid in the other. He was wearing a frankly horrifying dress (or just a really long shirt) that consisted of stitched-together clothing of all the other hermits.

“Hello, hello!” Zed called to them. “If it’s ghosts you’re looking for, I’ve got the spooks!”

“Zed, what on earth are you wearing?” Gem asked.

“Oh, this is my Halloween costume! I’m all the hermits, in a horrible amalgamation of cloth!”

“Well, he’s got the horrible part down pat.” Grian muttered to Scar.

Zed didn’t seem to hear the comment, as he looked at the four ghost hunters, counting them two times over.

“My friends, aren’t you missing someone?” Zed asked. “Where is the ‘S’ in GIGGS?”

“Skizz isn’t whitelisted on this server, duh.” Scar replied.

Zed grinned, and pulled a square-shaped item from his inventory. “Well, lucky for you, I have him right here on this i-pa- hi- hi-pad. A hi-pad, yes, that’s what this is.”

“Hi there, friends! Who’s ready to hunt some Hermitcraft ghost ass!” Skizz exclaimed from the screen, waving at his friends.

“Skizz!” Grian, Gem, and Scar exclaimed.

“Now that you’ve all assembled, I can tell you my spooky tale.” Zedaph said mysteriously, handing the hi-pad to Impulse. He pulled a campfire out of his inventory and set it down on the ground between them. “It was a dark and stormy night. I was up late, finishing up wiring my newest zedvancement trophy display. I came out to stand right in this very spot, on this ledge, looking over my hole, when something flew past my face!”

Gem gasped as Zed leapt forward, wiggling his fingers at his audience. Grian rolled his eyes. Scar was looking at the dangling animals, clearly not paying attention.

“It was glowing green, and this thing fell directly into the water feature around my bed!” Zed continued, pointing down into the hole, where his bed was. Around the bed were small streams of water, clearly so Zed wouldn’t take fall damage getting down. “I, of course, scrambled to get a lead, thinking it must be dangled at once.”

“I don’t like that your first thought when seeing anything is ‘can I wrap it up in rope and dangle it’, Zed. I would hate to psychoanalyze you.” Grian said.

“But when I got down there,” Zed continued, still acting like he didn’t hear Grian’s comments, “the lead went right through it! It was translucent, clearly a ghost! A green ghost of a man covered in chains! He gave me such a fright, speaking to me with a frankly grating American accent about pinball machines and other odd things. And then he left, floating up into the air and away! And all that was left behind was… this mysterious ghost substance.” Zed finished his story, holding out the bottle of glowing green liquid.

“Mysterious ghost substance?” Impulse asked.

Skizz gasped. “Dude, maybe that’s like the ghost’s sweat, or his p-”

Impulse muted him before he could finish.

“Scar, I dare you to drink that.” Grian said, pointing at the glass.

“Okay.” Scar said, and took the glass from Zed’s hand, popped the cork, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

“SCAR!” Grian, Impulse, Gem, and Zed cried.

“Grian, why did you dare him to drink it?” Gem asked, smacking Grian’s arm.

“I didn’t think he actually would do it!” Grian cried.

“Don’t lie, you knew he would.” Impulse said, shaking his head. “Oh, sorry Skizz, did you want to say something?” He unmuted Skizz again.

“Is Scar okay?” Skizz cried. “And also, what does it taste like?”

They all looked to Scar, who was smacking his lips thoughtfully. He looked up at all of them. “Why is everyone looking at me?” He asked.

“You just drank ghost bath water, dude.” Skizz said.

“Ohh…” Scar said, looking at the empty glass. “I zoned out, sorry. So this was the ghost evidence?”

“And you drank it, yeah.” Gem said.

“This tastes familiar. I know where the ghost is.” Scar said. “Follow me.”

He took off, leaving Gem and Grian to stare at each other in disbelief, then follow, followed by Impulse thanking Zed for his help before taking off too, holding Skizz on the hi-pad. The ghost-hunting group followed Scar all the way to the middle of the ocean, to a huge pinball machine that lit up the night sky. They landed on the top, looking around.

“Why are we at Joe Hills’ place?” Grian whispered.

“Because that’s where the ghost is.” Scar said, pointing down at a glowing green ghost on the pinball playfield, moving around, placing blocks, trailed by chains. “It’s the Beetlejoest, it’s what Joe Hills turns into sometimes. Bit of an odd guy, but he still bleeds if you use the right arrows.”

“Wow, a real ghost! On Hermitcraft!” Impulse exclaimed. “Let’s set up our ghost hunting equipment, get as much information as we can! Quick, someone grab the parabolic mic!”

“So are we just going to ignore the part where Scar knew what Joe Hills’ ghost tastes like?” Grian asked. “Was I the only one that heard that?”

[pastafossa]

Preview of Angsty In-Progress TRT What If fic

Right so there won't be a chapter cause I'm still in Covid Brain Fog Town, Population: Me which is affecting my writing (I've gotten a bit written but it's slow going). But I have found time to edit that sad thing I'd been working on BEFORE getting sick and I'm planning to release that because I think it works as a really good illustration of just what the stakes are in TRT if they get this wrong. AKA: a what-if, in which all their preparations fail and Jane is taken (spawned by an ask in my box that's been chewing at my brain for months now).

This will be a really dark and angsty side-fic, and the ending won't be happy per se, although I'm planning to give a little hope at the end since I'm not a COMPLETE monster, but I don't expect everyone to read it regardless and am designing it so there's no need to if you'd prefer to stick to TRT canon. BUT if you DO want to read something like this, here's a preview of the first section.

Warnings for: angst (obviously), blood, reference to shock collars.

Preview wordcount: around 1k

Putting this behind a cut.

Sad Matt gif cause this part's from his POV and it will not be fun.

There should have been a fight. 

That had always been the plan, an unspoken agreement the moment you’d decided to stay. You’d all known the Man in the White Coat, Cyrus James, would come to town eventually. It was an inevitability, a reality, and it was one you’d prepared for. Slowly, you’d gathered in your allies, armor composed of S.H.I.E.L.D., of the Ferryman, of the Punisher and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and even Spider-Man, had you asked. There’d been plans and backup plans, alarm systems and fail safes. And just in case that still wasn’t enough, you and Matt had taken to practicing, over and over and over again, all the ways you could signal him should your hunter slip through the cracks. 

It was foolproof. 

It should have been foolproof. That was what you’d all believed. 

You were all wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. 

There was no battle. 

It’s my fault. 

No war along the familiar streets that had become your home. 

I should have sensed him. 

There’d been no signal given. No warning, no alarm that rang out, not when you were walking home after a late case. 

Caught alone in the dark.

Where are you, sweetheart? Please, just give me something, anything—

You didn’t even have time to scream, they said.

Not physically, anyway.

He’d felt your fear before on occasion, when you reached for him psychically. Then, your presence felt like the frantic bite of your nails in his skin, tasted like the sharp tang of cold sweat and burning adrenaline, sounded like the stuttered racing of your heart, a drumbeat in his ears that never failed to set his own heart racing as he cast his senses out, hunting for threat-threat-threat and for those that dared to harm you. He’d felt your fear when you woke in the quiet dark of the apartment, and when you’d been trapped beneath the warehouse in a cruel, dusty cell. He’d felt it, too, that night Frank had chased after you. 

He thought he’d known the flavor of your fear. 

But those moments were nothing compared to the moment your deepest, darkest fear became… real. 

The deafening psychic scream that tore through the thread with all the force of a hurricane was like nothing he’d felt before, or ever would again. That storm was all-consuming, the world around him gone in a heartbeat as the sudden wave brought him to his knees, his mouth shocked open on a silent shout. He could barely breathe through that terrified tide, one cold as bitter ice, your panicked heartbeat less a drumbeat than a constant roar in his ears as your panic rolled through him. This was the tremor of muscle and blind, animalistic instinct, the last, desperate sprint of a doomed hare just before the hawk’s talons cinched shut against the back of its neck.

This wasn’t fear. That was too small a word.

It was sheer, absolute terror. 

And in that terror, you managed only a single word. 

“Matt, h—”

You never got a chance to finish. Instead, he was struck by a blinding surge of electricity, white-hot coils of lightning snaking around his throat before locking tight. That shock raced outwards from there, traveling along lines of hidden nerves and thick muscle until his whole body locked up in agony. It was impossible to writhe, to thrash, to fight. All he could do was scream, mindless and furious, your terror matched only by his surge of rage, rage that covered his own wave of terror. Because he knew. He knew, distantly, what this was, and what this meant. 

The collar. 

Just as quickly as it came, the connection was gone, leaving him with nothing but the steady drip of blood from his nose and a ringing in his ears.

He wanted to retch, his stomach roiling, but there was no time. 

It can’t end like this. 

The directional signal he’d gotten from you was worthless. Even when he found where you’d been snatched off the street, they’d left him nothing but droplets of your blood and a fading snatch of cigarette smoke, a poor cover for the faint chemical scent lingering in the alley. Tranquilizers, he’d learn later, meant to knock you out, make you tame enough to be bound, collared, and forced into the back of a van. From there, your scent vanished into the night. 

Caught. Collared. 

Taken.

There was supposed to be more time. 

More time for him in your arms and you in his. 

More quiet touches in the early morning, and laughter in the kitchen, at Fogwell’s, on warm rooftops and cold ones, too. 

Time for him to slip a ring on your finger, and for his name to twine with yours, joyful tears in both your eyes as he pressed his lips to yours on the day you finally became his wife, the keeper of his soul, and he the keeper of yours, for all the rest of your days.

Why hadn’t he asked you?

He should have asked you.

Our rocking chairs should be red, you’d said sleepily last night, when we’re old. 

He should have been faster. 

Stronger. 

Smarter.

“All this, all this that we have here, that you love, is at risk. It always is when I stop. He takes this from me every time, Matt."

He should have protected you. 

He’d promised you he’d keep you safe. 

“No one will take you. I won’t let them, no matter what I have to do to stop them. What happened before—you didn’t have me. I’ll hear him coming from a mile away. We’ll be prepared for him."

“Ciro promised me the same thing. And he was wrong.”

He’d… promised. 

“I promise. I’ll find them before they even get close.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, D.”

And he’d failed.

The Devil’s roar of anguish, of grief, and of absolute agony shook the very bones of the city. 

By that point, you were too far away to hear it. 

It would be seven months before he found you again.

[whump-tr0pes]

Lux in Tenebris, Medieval AU - Trail of Blood

@badthingshappenbingo

I completely forget to add the the bthb part. Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

This AU grabbed my brain and didn't let go. Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for enabling me in the DMs

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: demon whumpee, implied wounded animal (that doesn't happen), caught in a snare, blood, mild gore, mild finger whump, begging, misunderstanding whump, accidental self-harm (to escape the snare), rescue

~

The forest was loud today. Ilya picked their way through the underbrush, eyes sweeping along the ground as they searched for white-capped mushrooms on the forest floor. Above them, birds called to each other, and wind brushed through the swaying treetops. The buzz of insects gave the air a heavy quality, even though the afternoon was cool. Still, the basket on Ilya’s arm was still nearly empty. They still had a long afternoon yet of gathering to go before they could return home.

The noise felt almost… oppressive this morning, though. The birds seemed to be shrieking in alarm instead of their usual singing, and Ilya could hear the din of tree branches crashing together in the wind – but when they looked up, the crowns of the trees seemed to shake with little more than a slight breeze. They bit their lip and looked down for another mushroom. They tried very hard not to think about the whispers they’d heard in the village, whispers of an evil that had come to these woods in the last fortnight, evil fleeing the cleansings in the south. They bent to pick a mushroom and add it to the basket.

An inhuman screech cut through the forest.

Ilya shot upright, heart hammering in their chest. The sound came from their left, from a dense spot in the undergrowth. Their breaths came faster, faster, and they found themself moving towards the sound. They strained to hear something else. They tightened their thin cloak around their shoulders and crept, trembling, through the underbrush. Had they imagined it?

They almost turned back when another sound cut them to their core: a wail, long and drawn out and raw. It sounded… almost human.

A wounded deer, I bet, Ilya thought with a sinking heart. A hunter probably missed his mark. They set their jaw and moved toward the sound again. If they could at least put the creature out of its misery, that would be a kindness. And if it was small enough, they might be able to drag the animal back to their hut themself.

As they drew closer to where the creature was, Ilya could hear the sound of desperate thrashing in the undergrowth. A low, guttural moan reached Ilya’s ears as they pushed past a thick wall of branches. They bit their lip and prepared themself for the sight of a mortally wounded animal.

They bit back a gasp when they saw the creature wasn’t a creature at all, but a boy, with his right leg caught in a hunter’s snare.

He was filthy, his skin streaked with mud and blood, and tears had left tracks in the dirt on his cheeks. Sticks and leaves were matted in his hair. His clothes were torn. The snare cut deep into his lower leg, which was a mess of torn flesh and oozing blood. He heaved a ragged sob and tore at the snare with broken, bloody fingernails as Ilya watched with wide eyes.

Ilya took a step forward on shaking legs. A twig snapped under their foot. The boy’s head shot up, and Ilya had the sudden, horrifying realization that the boy was not a boy at all.

The boy’s pupils blew wide in terror, black taking up nearly the entire eye. Sharp fangs flashed, even in the afternoon shade. He flung himself back and away from Ilya, only to be caught by the snare. He cried out and bared his teeth at them, clawing at the ground and sobbing with every breath.

“Obsecro,” he croaked. “Non appropinquant.”

Ilya swallowed hard and stared at the creature in front of them for a long moment. He had dark circles carved under his eyes, and he trembled as if he was freezing. The flesh around the snare was swollen, enflamed. His eyes were strange, but there was such sadness in them, such pain.

And he looked so, so frightened.

“It’s alright,” Ilya said, voice low. They gently placed their basket down beside them. “I’m going to help you.”

They took one step toward the creature, then another. He didn’t move, didn’t seem to even breathe, just watched Ilya with those wide, terrified eyes. Ilya closed the distance between them, heart pounding. They did their best to ignore their fear, ignore the thought that perhaps this was the evil that the others had warned about lurking in the words. Carefully, they knelt beside the frightened creature. Still, he didn’t move. Ilya could see he that he was shaking harder, though. The leaves beneath him shuddered.

Ilya slowly reached out a hand towards the snare. The cord was thin, but strong, strengthened with horsehair. They had never paid attention to snares before, but they knew they did damage. Now they knew how much. They did their best to loop their finger under it, but it was far too tight. The creature hissed as Ilya worked at the snare, fumbling at the knot. They peeled back the scraps of his pant leg, wincing at the dried blood that glued it to the skin. Deep puncture holes dotted the flesh. Confused, Ilya glanced at the creature, before they realized: he’d been trying to bite his own leg off.

They tried to untie the snare from the tree it was tied to, to no avail. They tried pushing the tree over – they would have had better luck lifting a boulder. There was one more thing they could try.

They reached for their belt and pulled their small knife from its sheath.

The creature shrieked and recoiled from Ilya’s touch. His hands scrabbled in the deep leaves as he tried to drag himself away from them, keening so loudly the birds flew from their perches in the trees.

“No, shh,” Ilya murmured as they brought the knife to the creature’s leg. “I’m trying to—”

The creature whirled and snapped at Ilya, his teeth crashing together a millimeter from their hand.

Ilya reeled back and landed on their elbows. The knife flew from their grip.

The creature was in a frenzy. He tore at his leg with his teeth and nails, drawing blood until it ran in rivulets onto the forest floor. Blood smeared on his lips. The sound of his frantic sobbing cut Ilya down to their very soul. They forgot their fear and reached for their knife.

“Stop,” they breathed. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself… stop!” They staggered forward and pinned the creature down. He was bigger than they were, but as soon as they fell on top of him, he went rigid with a horrible wail. Ilya slid the knife between the snare and the creature’s leg and snapped the cord with a jerk. They rolled off of him and scrambled away on their hands and knees, just as he did the same.

He staggered to his feet and took off with a limping sprint into the woods, leaving behind a trail of blood and broken branches. Ilya’s heart was a blur of motion in their chest. They fought to catch their breath, swallowing over and over. Tears ran unbidden down their cheeks. Their hands were streaked with blood, and they wiped them hurriedly on the fallen leaves. They stared at the knife that lay on the forest floor beside them. For a long moment, they considered leaving it behind.

It’s a good knife, they thought finally. I can at least trade it away.

Their hands were shaking as they went to pick up their basket of mushrooms. Perhaps there would be enough left to gather on the way back home. They found the trail again and quickly made their way back to their lonely hut on shaking legs. They didn’t look behind them once, but they didn’t look at the ground much, either.

~

~

Translation of the Latin line:

“Please,” he croaked. “Don’t come near.”

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck ,  @whumps-the-word , @justwhumpitwhumpitgood,  @inky-whump ,  @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf , @wolfeyedwitch , @batfacedliar , @also-finder-of-rings , @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain

[hugmekenobi]

Ch13 Snippet

I am terribly sorry for how far behind I have gotten, but here's a lil something cause I'm back to being to work on it more now! Some very light smut included below the cut!

Phee raised her hands before she half-turned to Shep. “Lead the way, Shep. I’ll catch up.”

You all made to follow Shep, but you couldn’t help but notice Tech linger to look back at Phee and it warmed your heart. You just wished he would clue into the part of his brilliant brain that would realise he and Phee had potential.

“Leave them alone.” Hunter whispered as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to turn your gaze away and focus on walking behind Shep.

How are you not more invested in this?

“It’s not that I’m not invested but I know my brother, and this is something he needs to take at a very slow pace.”

“You’re so good.” You knew he was right. You focused instead on taking in your new surroundings.

--

The more you got to see of Pabu as you walked, the more you loved it. Everything was so pretty and letting Omega run ahead with Lyana felt completely safe, there wasn’t a threat to be found. It felt natural to be here.

“Upper Pabu is the oldest part of the island.” Shep informed you all as you paused to take in the magnificent view of the island and its crystal-clear blue waters. “As we’ve grown over the years, we’ve expanded the wall into Lower Pabu.”

You leaned over the wall to take it all in.

“Hi, Shep!”

“Hi, Mr Eenta. How are Sari and Micha?” Shep replied warmly to the old man that had approached them.

Mr Eenta let out a cheery high-pitched laugh. “They’re doing good. Thanks for asking, Shep. I see we got some newcomers here too. Although we haven’t had some quite as lovely as you join our community in a long time.” He added with a kind smile in your direction.

You smiled in thanks at the man and elbowed Hunter playfully. “Gotta up your game, I might just run off with him.”

“Ha ha.” Hunter replied drily as he drew you into his side and pressed a soft kiss to your hairline.

Mr Eenta laughed at your words. “I best be off but welcome to the island! Feel free to stop by anytime!”

“Nice to see you!” Shep waved him goodbye.

“Uh, do you know everyone here?” Wrecker asked Shep.

“Of course. We’re all like family. Now, if you’ll continue to follow me, I can show you were you and (Y/N) will be staying.” Shep said to Hunter. “I have a place for the rest of you too and Omega can go to either house, but I gather it would be best to show that to you after dinner?”

“Staying?” Hunter repeated.

Shep paused for a moment. “Well, I imagine you two’ll want some privacy before dinner tonight. There’s plenty of time. Unless I’ve read things wrong, or you want to stay as a group-”

“You have read things correctly.” Tech said without looking up from his datapad.

“Tech-” Hunter started.

“Yes, please, take them somewhere far away from us.” Wrecker said in an exaggerated manner.

You punched his arm.

Shep paid little attention to the teasing insinuations. He remembered what it was like to be young and in love. “We’ll pass my home on the way anyway so you can see Omega get settled and join us in an hour or so?”

You and Hunter glanced at one another before Hunter nodded his agreement and you both walked beside Shep trying not to look too eager or walk too quickly.

--

You didn’t remember much about the place you were staying. All that really registered with you was the discarded pieces of armour and weapons by the door and the short route from the doorway to the bedroom. From what you did recall; it was very cosy and homey, but right now your focus was on the fact you were sat across Hunter’s lap at the edge of the bed. Your kisses were slow and deep, there was no residing worry of being interrupted or needing to be rushed and the two of you were perfectly content with not rushing things, both too intoxicated by the feeling of your lips on each other’s skin and the noises leaving your mouths.

“I want to call this in.” You panted against his lips as your fingers traced the red scarf.

Hunter groaned as he felt you grind against him. “But I-”

“I want to call this in.” You repeated seductively as you lifted it over his head and pulled back to look into his eyes. “Please.” You murmured as you pressed delicate kisses along his jaw.

[ultimateissuessimp]

Lost & Found

Chapter 4 -What's there for him to achieve?

Word count: 2,000

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Drama/Slight horror

TW: Description of a dead body, that part will be accentuated with *.

Y/N woke up rested. He could wholeheartedly say that it was the best sleep he got in a few good years. Yet when he opened his eyes he didn't immeditely notice what, or rather who, he was sleeping on. The moment he noticed was when he tigthened his hold on it and it moved in a rythmic breathing. The hunter shot up into a sitting position, wide eyed with a blush already forming on his cheeks. He looked down to see Morpheus already looking at him with concern written on his face.

-Are you okay? Did you sleep well? - he asked him, trying not to freak the man out even more than he already is.

-Uh, yeah... I slept really good, it's just that uh... How... How did we end up in this... Uh, position? - Y/N a little worried, because he couldn't remember much from yesterday's evening.

All that he remembered was that he was heavily tired and Morpheus helped him fall asleep and that's it. But he knew for damn sure that he was laying on his side of the bed, on his pillow and under his blanket. Yet somehow now he was on Dream's side of the bed, using his shoulder as his pillow and Morpheus's arm around him as some sort of a blanket.

-You move a lot in your sleep. You know that, correct? - Morpheus asked to which he got a nod in return. - I would say that your... Unconscious self missed the feeling of someone else laying close to you, like we did when we were - he couldn't finish his sentence before Y/N interrupted him.

-Please... Please, just don't finish that sentence, Morpheus... I know what you're tryig to say, but I don't know why you're saying what you're saying. You stated yourself that you wanted nothing to do with me no more and I respected it, even though it hurt my heart, soul and brain to do so. But I did and now you're saying all those words as if you were trying to go back to something that is on the other side of a collapsed bridge... - the hunter said, his voice breaking on certain parts of his speech.

He couldn't understand what Morpheus was trying to achieve with bringing the past back. Both of them agreed that what was between them was gone and that they should just forgt and move on. So why now? Why after all this time he decided to just try and create chaos in Y/N's life once more?

-You're not the only one hurting, Y/N... What I said in the past was... Wrong of me, I know it, but both of us were angry, we said things we didn't actually mean... And I wish I could take all of them back, to let you explain instead of attacking you like I did, but I can't. So now I can only hope to at least making you know that I deeply regret every hurtful word that I threw your way - Morpheus said with a solemn look on his face as he got off the bed and walked a few steps towards the hunter that at the same time took those few steps back, creating some space between them.

-I think this is the first time that I hear you apologise... I honestly had no idea you were even able to do so, but... It's a welcomed change nontheless. But you're right... What got said is a past, a one that you cannot change and the thing is... If I got the chance to go back in time and do something different way, I wouldn't. Because no matter how much I have loved you, my back was against a wall and they made me choose. The difference was that I knew that you could withstand it, you're strong... But my niece? She was only a child... I couldn't leave her to die, no matter how much it has hurt me to leave YOU - Y/N said, tears gathering in his eyes.

He couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, it's like his brain wanted him to finally spill what he was feeling for all this time. Yet he quickl came to his senses, shaking his head and wiping away the small tears thtat threathened to spill with the back of his hand.

-Could we just... Go back to researching please? This isn't the best time to have this talk - he added.

-And when will be the right time? After all of this? When you go back to avoiding me at all cost and me acting like you don't exist? When Y/N? - Morpheus proceeded to push, trying to get an answer out of the hunter.

-I don't know! I don't know okay?! Just not... Not now - the H/C haired man sighed, ruffling his bed hair with his hand and then swiftly walking over to the table that still had his laptop ontop.

-Well, this is really awkward... - Matthew, that was still laying on Morpheus's pillow, said and decided to hop off, stretch his wings for a bit. He flew up onto Dream's shoulder. - Boss, do you mind if I went back to the Dreaming? You could just summon me back if I was needed. I... Feel like I would be intruding whatever is going between you and the mister cuddle bear over there - he added and got a glare not only from Morpheus but also Y/N.

He shuddered at their gazes but quickly flew away through an opened window when he got his boss's approval. He was so done with drama for today, but he will definietly gossip with Lucienne about all of what happened. How could he not?

Y/N sat on the chair that was pulled out from the table and opened up the device in front of him. It immediately powered up being previously just closed and not turned off completely, showing up the latest research on the screen. The hunter got back to his work that he abandoned yesterday, reading articles and looking through every information he gets his hands on, he even reads some newspaper that was left my the hotel staff before they got their room. After half an hour he finally found something. A woman came in contact with the Nightmare, but described it as a shapeshifting monster that took the form of her husband that it killed.

*She and her neighbor got interviewed by the newspaper's journalist a few hours after the incident. She said that she only found out that her husband was dead when she went down to the basement to do some laundry and saw his mutilated body.* She screamed and tried to run up the stairs and get out of the basement but got face to face with the being she could only describe as horrific and simply taken out of a horror movie. Her screams were heard by her neighbor which came to her rescue, not noticing anything strange seeing her "husband" in the kitchen just looking out of the window.

He thought of it as weird but quickly opened up the basement door, releasing the woman who was begging and crying about her husband being dead. The confused neighbor tried calming her, saying that her husband was well in the kitchen, but when he looked to the side, the "husband" was gone. The shaken up wife ran to the staionary phone and called 9-1-1. When police came, they found a still crying and shocked woman, sitting on the floor and the neighbor next to her, trying to comfort her as much as he could. She only pointed at basement making the policemen go down the stairs and see the gruesome scene in front of them. One of the policemen vomited at the sight and quickly got away from the body.

They questioned the wife, but didn't get out anything from her that could tell them what happened. They had to wait for a crime scene coroner to tell them the reason of his death, what caused it. The answer that they got was that it wasn't possible that a human has done that, especially not the petite wife. Because of the mental damage that happened to the woman and her saying that something was impersonating her husband, she got sent to a mental institute and the crime never got solved. According to the date on the newspaper it happened a few days ago.

-I got something that we could check... It's worth a shot even if we don't get anything specific, the woman is in a poor state - Y/N said standing up from his seat and closing the laptop. He went over to his clothing bag and took out some clothes, this time going to the bathroom to change. When he got out he walked over to the table again and took the newspaper into his hand. - We should go there and ask her some questions. Maybe she will tell us something that she hasn't said in the interview - he added.

-Very well. Let us get there. What is the name of the institute? - Morpheus asked awaiting an answer so he could deport them to the place. He only got a look and a short answer containing "No, Morpheus, we're going to get there my way". He sighed but nodded.

The two men walked to the door and Y/N opened them taking a step outside, nearly colliding with someone standing in front of him, but he stopped quickly, shifting his gaze from the floor to the face of his blockade seeing the chevrolet driver. His eyes went wide for a second before changing into an annoyed glare. He also noticed the two other man behind the blonde.

He quickly analyzed the men, seeing the hidden gun behind the jeans and a belt of the blonde and an anti-possesion tattoo on the slightly exposed chest of the tallest one. He also felt a weird sensation going through his body as he looked at the black haired man in a trench coat. He was also looking at Y/N with a confused face and a tilted head, a if he was trying to find out what was hiding in the hunter's mind. Y/N felt the proding and realised that the man tried to read his thoughts and he blocked him out right away. His blue eyes widened feeling the rejection from the hunter's mind and look behind him, now looking at Morpheus, feelind the divine power radiating off of him, not even tryng to read his mind, kowing that it could be a mistake.

-Sorry, didn't mean to almost walk into you - Y/N said cautiously taking one step back, his back colliding gently with Dream's chest. He tried making some space for the three men to walk by and they did without a word. H/C haired man scoffed and only got an apologetic look from the brown haired man as they were walking away.

-Did you feel it? - Morpheus asked the hunter, wondering if he also felt the weird static that surrounded the three men. Well, two men and one angel as he deducted.

-Yes. Hunters, monster hunters. The third one is something else though... He tried to read my mind, but I didn't let him. What could he be... An angel maybe? But why whould hunters willingly walk around with an angel beside them? - He pondered on the question. - You know what? I bet they are also looking for our lost Nightmare... That means that right now they could be going to that woman from the newspaper. We have to be there before them... Eh you... You could deport us there... I admit that it will be faster... - Y/N added. With that Morpheus reached for his pouch of sand, took some out and spread it around them, closing them inside a sand cyclone. And just like that, they were gone.

[rp-commandersignas]

Commander Signas as a Pokemon!

Related to [this post.]

I was originally planning on making him a Staraptor, but I felt like their aggressive nature and reckless fighting style conflicted with Signas's more cautious and calculating way of doing things. I also felt like a more brain-focused pokemon would suit his personality better, so I chose Beheeyem in the end. In a way, him having a giant head and smaller body also fits since his mind is his greatest strength.

The only thing I don't like about Beheeyem is the fact that they can tamper with people's memories however they please. Like... This thing could ruin your life. 😨 Luckily, Signas would recognize the damage he could potentially cause with this power, so he'd hold back a lot when using it. I can imagine that the most he'd do is make a foe forget that they saw him, or temporarily forget who he is so they'd leave him alone.

Also, one thing you may notice about him is that he's a shiny. This was actually an accident on my part. When I was first imagining him in my head I was like: "I'll just make his eyes blue to make him more recognizable." Then I found out that shiny Beheeyem *also* has blue eyes, so I decided to go the rest of the way with his colors.

As for how he'd behave in a story (set in the Mystery Dungeon world), I think Signas would be the least alarmed out of all my muses, but he'd also have a million questions. When he'd wake up on the beach with the others, he would stay completely calm and begin analyzing his new surroundings. I think he would be the first to get his bearings, and he would be able to gather several facts about about their current environment using his calculations. I even imagined him using the shadows to calculate the circumfrence of the planet at some point, and finding that it's somewhat smaller than the Earth. Overall, his intellect would be exactly the same as when he was a reploid, but now he'd be able to read minds, and even look into people's memories with a bit of concentration. He'd also have the odd habit of raising his arms and flashing his lights in sequences every time he'd talk to people telepathically. Nobody can understand the code except for him though (which is innate knowledge for this pokemon species). I'm not really sure whether he'd translate this secret code for others or not, but knowing him, he'd more likely keep it a secret.

I also think that even though General would be in the 'party,' Signas would kinda end up as the leader in the beginning since he'd already have a clear plan of action. He'd also be a source of stability for the others - who would definitely be pretty confused by this whole situation. Also, due to his investigative nature, he'd often go out of his way to ask questions and learn more information about this new world. I can imagine him mainly trying to piece together how he and the others got here, and how to return home - if possible. He'd also quickly figure out that this world seems to operate on different 'rules' than his own, so he'd start recording them so that he wouldn't be caught off-guard. I can imagine that when the group would find a town to settle in, during the night Signas would find some parchment and start writing a bunch of notes and drawing charts so he could share them with his friends. I can imagine him even making the beginnings of a type-effectiveness chart, which would be filled out as he'd observe (and participate in) numerous battles. Also, for some reason I get the feeling that he might not need to sleep as a Beheeyem, so he'd probably be doing that all night. If I go with this headcanon, I can also imagine him looking at the stars and trying to see if he can recognize any constellations, but he wouldn't be able to find anything familiar - indicating that they could be at a completely unknown point in space. Maybe even an entirely different universe. I feel like deep down, even he'd be a bit troubled by that thought. If he can't get back home, he can't lead the Hunters anymore, or fulfill his promise to his creator. He'd also never see Alia again... He'd probably decide to keep all of this to himself for the time being.

While writing all this I also kept imagining how Signas would move. I pictured that most of the time he'd be levitating with his arms folded behind his back, but I also imagined him sometimes perching on surfaces that would normally be too narrow or fragile to support his weight. Sometimes he'd walk around normally if he's in an enclosed space, but I think he'd usually prefer to hover around since it would take less effort. It also kinda reminds me a bit of how Meta Knight always stands on things to make himself seem taller in the Kirby anime. So... Maybe this is something Signas does subconsciously since he used to be WAY taller.

Anyways, I guess that's all I have to say for now. Since you've made it this far, here's a scrapped black variant of my design:

I honestly think this looks way better, but I decided that it strayed too far from what a Beheeyem could plausibly look like.

[blackholelynn]

His Salvation - Part Five

<- Read Part Four

Summary: You have left your old life behind and started over with Dean, but you soon realize that you know almost nothing about the hunter you now live with.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, aftermath of grief/loss, description of suffocation, swearing - these warnings are for the series of parts as a whole, so while some of these warnings may not apply on this part, they will apply for future parts.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Hello!! It's been a while! I'm just going to plop this here and slink away because I have no excuses. This is literally done and has been for months, SO SORRY!!! Life just be like that sometimes, so I will see you all on the next update (whenever my dysfunctional brain allows me).

Series Tag List: @leigh70

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tag List: @siospins2

Supernatural Tag List: @hobby27

Also cross-posted on my AO3 account, you can read it here!

~~~

 "Damn it!" Dean cursed, swiping at the spell set up on the war room table. The components went clattering across the floor, scattering across the concrete. The older Winchester stepped away from the table and continued to seeth towards the wall, but the damage was already done.

Sam stooped his tall frame over to gather the debris, not surprised by the outcome. "We've tried every location spell we can think of, and she hasn't come up yet. Dean--"

"She's not dead." Dean's voice cracked as he tacked on, "She can't be."

"That wasn't what I was suggesting. Some of these spells locate a person even if they are dead, so that's not the issue here."

"Then what do you think it is?"

Sam sighed as he emptied his hands of the failed spell and sat down in one of the chairs while crossing his arms. "The only thing I can think of that would hide her this well is an angel brand."

"You're thinking Cas?" Dean's disbelief was unmistakable. Considering the last time he had seen you two together, you clearly had not gotten along, so it was a stretch to think that the two of you would be helping each other. “There’s no way. Those two were practically at each other’s throats when they met.”

“I’m not saying anything for sure, but if it’s not Cas, then another angel is helping her.”

The thought of another angel being around you shot Dean into action, and without another thought, he pulled out his phone and started dialing. Ignoring Sam’s querent expression, Dean listened to the dial tone with his breath caught in his throat. This was his last resort, the very last thing he could think of.

The voice on the other end of the phone had its usual exhausted quality. “What do you want?”

“Kevin, we need your help with something. I need you to figure out if there are any ways to get past angel branding.”

“Dean, I’m not your little bitch. I’m still in the middle of translating the Demon Tablet for the last trial, so–”

“I don’t care what the hell you’re doing. Whatever you’re doing, drop it. This is more important,” Dean snapped, immediately regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Before he could even voice an apology, Kevin retaliated, “Oh, more important than shutting the gates of hell forever? More important than me getting my life back? Please, enlighten me on what’s so important.”

His similar wording only brought the memory of your argument back again, worsening the guilt he was already feeling. “We need to find someone.”

“You better be looking for God if it’s that important.” After a silence, Kevin asked, “Is that who you’re looking for?”

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face before slamming that hand on the table in a fist. “I don’t have time to debate this with you! I just need to know if there’s anything in the Demon Tablet that can get past the angel branding for a location spell!”

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up, wrenching the phone from his brother’s hand. Sam took the conversation to another room, and all Dean could hear was the hushed, apologetic tone his brother held as he continued talking to Kevin. This left Dean alone in the room to pace and feel like he was crawling out of his skin.

He never thought he would be comfortable bringing someone into his life, especially after what happened to Lisa and Ben, but you had broken down every wall he had thought he built up so well. Now that you were so close, it was hard for him to cope with you being apart.

Abruptly, Sam entered the room again and loudly set the phone on the table, giving Dean a chastising glare. “I smoothed things over.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked defensively.

“You were being a dick,” Sam responded simply. Before Dean could even formulate his retort, Sam laid down a notepad on the table with a loud slap. It has a list of ingredients scribbled hastily down the piece of paper. "But Kevin came through for us. You sure you want to do this?"

Dean snatched up the notebook, eagerly reading the list of ingredients despite his unfamiliarity with spells. "Of course. Do we have all this stuff?"

Sam nodded. "I just checked, and yep. Pantry's fully stocked."

"Then let's get this show on the road!"

Dean was out of his seat before the other Winchester could even process what was said, but Sam quickly trailed after him to the library. The two were silent with concentration as they gathered the spell's components. It required some particularly rare ingredients, but thankfully the Men of Letters were a group that was seldom caught unprepared; their stock of materials was extensive.

Dean stood pensively at the side of the room as he watched Sam stir together the ingredients above the map they had spread on the table. The mixture in the container was brown and had the consistency of sludge. After what seemed like forever, Sam stopped stirring the components and swiftly turned the container upside down above the paper map.

When the concoction plopped unceremoniously onto the paper with no reaction, Dean surged forward. "Is that it?"

"I…I don't know?" When Sam caught Dean's disapproving glare, he continued defensively. "Kevin just gave me the instructions! He didn't tell me how it would work!"

"Are you kidding me, Sammy? You didn't think to ask how we would know if it worked? So now we don't know if the spell was a bust because she's warded too much or because you mixed up a tablespoon with a teaspoon!"

"I didn't mess up the spell!"

"Considering it looks like a sewer vomited on our map, I'd say you messed up the spell."

"No, I followed Kevin's instructions to a T."

"We'll, thank God we called Kevin!" Dean sarcastically huffed, throwing his hands up and turning away. "How could we go without making whatever the hell that is?!"

"Dean?"

The older Winchester was nowhere near done with his tirade. "You know, we make sure that kid is safe and that Crowley's goons don't get to him, and what's our reward?"

"Dean."

"Oh, right. A pile of brown ooze when we asked for a location spell. Because why would we ever need an actual spell? Might as well just give us the recipe for fake dog shi–"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted, and when his brother turned around, Sam pointed at the map. The thick concoction had spread itself out on the map leaving only a tiny area completely untouched. "Looks like it worked."

For the first time in days, Dean grinned and clapped his hands together, calling out as he left the room, "Pack your bags, Sammy! And make sure to remind me to buy Kevin a steak dinner or something!"

Sam looked down at the pristine spot on the map, a current of unease washing through him. What happened that hid you from their other spells, and if you were that thorough, should they really still be looking? Before Sam could think about it anymore, he took a mental note of the location and crumpled up the map.

It swished into the garbage can as he passed, going to pack his bag as instructed so they could head back out onto the road.

Once again, you were sitting in a library in front of a computer for far too long. Because of Castiel's absolute inability to use a computer, that job fell to you while he combed the bookshelves. You could see him from where you sat, and he was sitting at one of the tables surrounded by stacks of books. His brow was knit in intense concentration.

Focus.

Your brain chastised you for the millionth time since you had begun your Google journey to get back on track. Your focus was nearly non-existent, quickly getting lost in your tumultuous thoughts. It was taking every excuse to avoid the task you needed to be doing.

You wrenched your eyes to the computer screen and continued scrolling through the search results. You were sure you'd know the ins and outs of how to best use a search engine by the time all was said and done. You barely got through another page of blue links before your mind wandered again.

This time it was as though your brain was torturing you as one wrong gust of AC caused the smell of Dean to be noticeable from the flannel you wore. It was only a moment, so short of a time that you weren't even sure if you really had smelled it or if you were just remembering, but the smell launched you into a memory.

Shortly after you had started living with the Winchesters in the bunker, you had decided to make dinner for them both as a surprise. It wasn't special, considering that they never kept any actual groceries in stock, but it was something. You vividly remembered how Dean looked at you like you were his whole world at that moment. It was exhilarating, wonderful, and…terrifying. That wasn't something you remembered feeling in the moment, but looking back, it scared you to be so important to someone so soon into the relationship.

"Hello?" Castiel's gruff voice snapped you back to reality, and you saw a weathered book open on your keyboard. When he saw how dazed you were, you could see a note of concern cross his face. "Are you alright?"

You nodded profusely, turning all of your attention to the book as a means of deflection. "Yeah, all good. What did you find?"

Castiel paused as he continued surveying you, not entirely convinced. However, you ignored the angel's worries and continued skimming over the book. It was open to a Nordic poem, and after reading a few lines, you caught a word you knew – draugr.

You grimaced in disgust. "Ew. Please tell me this isn't the monster we're dealing with."

"You've had previous encounters with them? I thought this was your first time hunting alone?"

"They're not obscure! They're in an Elder Scrolls game, so yeah, I know what they are." You closed the book and handed it back to Castiel before typing 'draugr' into the search bar. You pointed to one of the pictures that depicted the game model of a rotting corpse with glowing blue eyes. "That thing. They kind of suck to deal with at really low levels."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and peered closer at the screen before shaking his head. "I believe we're looking for something more closely resembling myth."

"Well, obviously. I wasn't suggesting this thing was strutting around town unnoticed." You thumbed at the picture on the monitor before switching to the web page results, scrolling through the different links. "It is definitely going to make finding info hard, though."

"In this passage I found, it describes the draugr taking the shape of a cat, and while the victim was sleeping, the cat sat on the man's chest and suffocated him. That would be consistent with the injuries we saw on the bodies."

His tone made you look around the library nervously, and when you were satisfied that you hadn't drawn suspicion, you chided Castiel, "You can't say things like that so loud. We're in public."

"Regardless, I think a machete is our best option."

"Okay, number one: what did I just say!" You shut off your computer and stood, leading the oblivious man away from people and out of the library. The fact that you hadn't checked out the book in his hand escaped you in your haste. "And number two: how is a machete going to help?"

Castiel shrugged you off him now that you were both on the sidewalk and opened the book back up, pointing to an excerpt of text. "It says here that the draugr was slain when a warrior cut off its head while it was preying on its victim. A machete is typically the best weapon for decapitation."

"Oh. Wonderful." Your sarcasm flew over Castiel's head, but you didn't linger on that sentiment long. "I guess that means we've gotta find ourselves a cat."

"Why?"

"You said it yourself, angel boy. It found all its victims by being a cat, so we shouldn't be any different. We find it, take it home, I go to sleep while you pretend to leave, and then you give it a particularly close haircut before it can off me." You were already striding down the sidewalk to your car, eager to go on the search for stray cats. "A perfect plan, really. I see no flaws."

"I see several," Castiel remarked as he followed after you.

"Well, I didn't ask, now did I?"

He got into the car after you with only a harumph, and you didn't speak for a while. The silence let you start to reminisce again, analyzing every moment in the bunker for the past few months. How many times did you ignore your brain screaming at you that everything was too soon? How many times had you looked past Dean's brooding? How often did you struggle to be alone because if you were alone, then you thought about Laurie and the nixie?

Your brain swam with different questions and reflections until Castiel asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you quickly denied. Your eyes focused on the road ahead to avoid his blue ones staring intently at you.

"I can tell it's about something you regret. I know that look all too well." Castiel let a moment of silence pass before he spoke again to give you the chance to admit it. "You don't have to talk about it, but denying that you're caught up in your thoughts is pointless. I have had that same spiral down myself."

"I just don't know if you'd get it since you're an angel and all." You did not want to have a gossip session with an angel, much less an angel that you were pretty sure was Dean's best friend. That seemed like the worst option at that time.

You could see Castiel's head cock in confusion in your peripheral vision. "What would I not 'get'?"

"You know…" you trailed off, but he didn't know. You'd have to explain it. "Feelings. Romantic ones, specifically."

"Ah. Romance. I actually do know a thing or two about that. Nothing meaningful, but I've had my fair share of–"

You quickly cut him off from whatever escapades he was about to describe. "Okay, we are not close enough yet for you to be telling me about your heavenly one-night stands, but I appreciate the attempt at bonding."

"None of them were in Heaven."

"Great to know that you angels aren't boning up there, Cas, but it's not the point."

Suddenly, your angel companion grew silent, and you were unsure why the conversation had stopped so abruptly. Considering its direction, you were far from complaining, but Castiel's sudden silence created some concern. You were starting to put aside the bad first impression you had and were beginning to enjoy the company.

You spotted an alley teeming with cats and pulled over to investigate, but before either of you got out of the car, you asked, "Did I say something to upset you? I'm sorry if I did."

"No, you said nothing wrong," Castiel replied, though he looked as though he was only half there with you in the car. The dazed look in his eye signaled that his thoughts were somewhere else.

"I guess you do know that look. You have it right now." You shut off the ignition and turned in your seat to face him. Castiel met your inquisitive gaze, and you parroted, "You don't have to talk about it, but denying that you're caught up in your thoughts is pointless."

One corner of his mouth quirked up as you repeated his words, and he chuckled a bit. "We have more in common than I thought we had upon meeting."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that too. We both have the 'I don't know what the hell I'm doing' vibe."

"Vibe? As in vibration?"

"Well, no…not exactly?" You cut off your explanation, realizing that you had to stay on track. "The point is that we can help each other. You've already helped me a little bit with figuring my mess out. Let me help you."

Castiel hesitated but nodded. "That logic does make sense, but we should continue while searching for the draugr. We don't have much time to waste."

"I like the way you think! Multi-tasking is a crucial skill." You opened the car door, quickly surveying the alley in front of you. Some of its feline inhabitants skittered away with the approach of your car, but most of them still resided in the alley.

One cat, in particular, caught your eye because he was so fat and fluffy, and although you were pretty sure he wasn't the cat you were looking for, you wanted to try and approach him anyway. Your conversation with Castiel was quickly forgotten as you inched closer and closer to the cat, making sure your steps were light, and your form was hunched.

You were just a hair's breadth away from touching the cat's silky fur when Castiel said, "I don't think that's the cat we're looking for."

The cat scurried away at the sound of Castiel's voice, leaving you standing with your hand outstretched, and you quietly sighed, "No. No, it wasn't, but it would've been nice to pet."

"I see…" Castiel stiffly followed you into the alley. He looked so out of place among the garbage cans, litter, and stray cats, and it was clear he was pensive. You had assumed it was about your surroundings until he said, "It had caught me off guard when you called me Cas."

You didn't look away from the next cat you were slowly stalking towards, but you still held an apologetic expression on your face. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would upset you."

"I'm not upset," he quickly clarified. He awkwardly mimicked your posture to a nearby cat which quickly became frightened and scurried off as well. "I just had not expected you to call me that. Sam and Dean are the only ones who do so frequently."

"Do you miss them? It doesn't seem like you're around the bunker much, but the way you've talked, you were all really close."

"I would say…" The angel seemed to analyze his own feelings at that time like he had never thought about it before. "Yes. I do miss them. Although, ultimately, it has been my decisions that have made our time together few and far between."

You hummed in understanding, identifying heavily with his sentiment. "You ever think about going back to the bunker and staying there with Sam and Dean?"

"Not–" Castiel's sentence was abruptly cut off as he held his breath, finally getting close enough to pet one of the cats. His mouth pressed into a concentrated line before he sighed and stood, allowing the feline to skitter away – not the draugr. He continued, "Not very often anymore. I don't think it's the right place for me."

"How do we find the right place?"

"I don't know."

Your conversation petered until you saw a particularly malnourished cat sitting away from the rest, carefully cleaning its mangy fur. It showed no hesitation or fear as you approached, and once your hand made contact with it, you knew it was the draugr you were looking for.

You picked up the cat and carried it back towards the car, saying to Castiel as you passed, "We got 'em. Now time for the plan."

Castiel followed you wordlessly back to the car, and although you had just been in a disgusting alley trolling around garbage for feral cats, he had actually had fun. So had you. For the first time in months, you started feeling like you had a handle on your life again.

[storiesbyjes2g]

The kids were due back soon, and I had been sitting at the computer all day. I got dressed and went for a stroll to process everything I'd seen but also to have one last moment of peace before the minors returned. A little white dog scurried past me and smelled worse than rotten eggs. I knew she'd gotten into with some skunks. But it wasn't the foul stench that caught my attention. Ok...it was because she was pretty rank. She had the saddest expression and whimpered like she was scared, maybe even lost. Whatever the case, she tugged at my heartstrings something fierce, the same way Hunter did when we met the first time. But I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. I had a connection with her. If she felt the same way about me, I'd bring her home without question.

I kneeled to her level and held out my hand so she could check me out. When she decided I was ok, I reached out slowly so I could pet her, letting her know I cared and she could trust me. My touch freaked her out at first, but after a few pets, she melted into my hands. The anxiety she had expressed previously disappeared. The stench was almost unbearable, but I enjoyed the moment just as much as she did. It had been way too long since I had puppy love in my life. We had only just met, but we were such fast friends just like me and Shiloh. I asked if she wanted to have a bath. Her expression was the absolute cutest thing I'd ever seen and all the answer I needed.

It's so crazy how dogs seem to understand exactly what we say to them. I didn't notice how hairy she was until she was soaking wet. Alessia and I needed to brush her every day, or we'd be living in a wig factory. I really hoped she'd liked my new friend. It was totally possible this dog could be crazy, or really aggressive, but that was a risk I was willing to take to give this precious creature a home.

"I think I want to name you Tofu," I said, snuggling my skunk-free friend.

She was white, but not white enough to name her Snowflake or whatever else white dogs were named. And we ate so much of that stuff living with Ali; I was quite familiar with its color. Tofu was a perfect name for her.

The kids came home, interrupting our snuggle time, and Alessia ran straight for the kitchen. She said she had cake on the brain. Her craving must have been quite serious for her to miss our new family member in my arms. When she returned to the living room with cake in hand, I introduced them.

"EWW," she yelled. "I don't want a street dog! Make her go away!"

I was stunned. I just knew she'd be happy about this. She couldn't have been serious. "But you wanted a dog, and Tofu is so sweet."

"No, Mommy! She could have diseases!"

"So we'll take her to the vet. No big deal."

"I don't want it!"

I couldn't let Tofu go back out there. Not after the way we bonded. I had to try a different approach. One way or another, I was winning this argument! "But I thought you wanted us to have a thing. Just you and me."

"Not like this! I'll pick something else."

I panicked. She was even more strong-willed than I was at her age, and it looked like I finally met my match. "Alessia, please! She was so scared! I can't send her back out there!"

I hated begging her like that, but I didn't know what else to do.

"I. DON'T. WANT. IT."

My eyes stung from the pressure of tears building up. Part of me wanted to put my foot down and do the whole "I'm the parent and what I say goes" bit, but I knew in my heart of hearts that would have been the most selfish thing I'd done in a while. I had more than just myself to think about now, and this could drive a wedge between us. The decision boiled down to choosing between my daughter and my new friend, and I knew I had to choose my daughter.

I gathered Tofu in my arms one last time and squeezed lovingly. I whispered into her ear, "I can't keep you. But if you find me again, I'll let you stay. I promise. Please find me."

I couldn't send her away on an empty stomach, so I brought her into the kitchen. She ate that food like her life depended on it, breaking my heart even more. When she finished, I picked her up, placed her outside the gate, and told her to remember what I said. She ran away. I went upstairs and cried.

[katiestory]

2. Light, Vision, and Color

For your biologically accurate monster building information, here is part 2 of my notes on An Immense World by Ed Yong, drawing from chapters 2 and 3. This section has truly a massive amount of information and I did my best. Please note a lot of this is generalizations, so read the book if you want the good stuff.

Vision and Photoreceptors

What is it?

Photoreceptors signal a neuron when exposed to light photons. With enough receptors, complex structures like eyes that (when paired with the right brain) can create a mental representation of the surroundings. There are four levels of complexity:

A single photoreceptor that can sense the presence and absence of light

Photoreceptors with a shaded spot that allows for detecting the angle of light

Clusters of shaded photoreceptors that allow the brain to produce a blurry lo-fi image of its world

High resolution vision with lenses and other structures for perceiving sharp details, wide field of vision, color etc.

There are two common types of complex eyes; camera like eyes with one retina that gathers light, and compound eyes, which have many ommatidia that gather light information.

There are many components of “vision”:

Visual acuity. The amount of resolution and detail perceived.

Higher acuity is achieved by denser photoreceptors, but this also corresponds to weaker night vision.

Compound eyes have weak acuity.

Light Sensitivity. Is vision suited for bright light or nocturnal conditions?

Color. Multiple types of photoreceptors allow the brain to compare wavelengths of light and distinguish those differentiations as color.

Animals with high visual acuity (humans and raptors) and fish that see long distances underwater tend not to perceive UV light.

Animals that evolved from nocturnal ancestors perceive fewer colors

Field of View. Where does the animal have blind spots, if any? And what parts of the eye have the sharpest vision?

Refresh Rate. How quickly the brain can receive and perceive new information from the eyes; frame rate.

Night Vision Adaptations. Special features like “long exposure” vision to see in total darkness, or a tapetum structure to check twice for photons.

How is it used in nature?

Visual Acuity: to notice small details, like raptors hunting from the sky, other distance hunters, or primates hunting insects.

Light Sensitivity: with nocturnal vision animals can avoid competition with diurnal species. Night vision may correlate with a lack of color vision.

Color: Animals and their ecosystem may share a color palette that is tuned to their eyes. For instance, flowers are colored to appeal to the eyes of pollinators; plants that looks camouflaged may actually stand out brightly to the animals that eat it. Or species may look flashy and bright to attract mates, but the coloration appears in a spectrum that is invisible to their predator’s eyes. Many birds only appear sexual dimorphic through their tetrachromat eyes.

Monochromats – No color vision, just light/dark. Useful for identifying motion and recognizing shapes.

Dichromats – Compared to monochromacy, allows for the differentiation of objects in motion, and patterns of light moving through water.

Trichromats – Useful for herbivores that need to identify the ripeness of plants (distinguishing red and green).

Tetrachromats – Widespread; Able to perceive ultraviolet and all of its combinations

Field of View: Animals see in the directions most useful for them.

underwater it is useful to see up and down at the same time

or above and below water’s surface at once

panoramic vision

animals that live in flat landscapes may be able to a panorama of the entire horizontal at once (and have no need to see up)

in the sky it may be useful to see below but not ahead or above

primates only see the direction they face, but their overlapping fields of vision provide excellent depth perception

Refresh Rate: this typically correlates with size with smaller animals having a higher refresh rate, moving and perceiving the world around them more quickly that larger slower refresh rate animals. This is an advantage in reaction times and hunting abilities.

Who has it?

Photoreception is widespread since there is such an array of uses and complexity in nature. Regarding color:

Monochromats – Nocturnal species and those with simpler eyes.

Dichromats – Many formerly nocturnal mammals without the need for detailed color information.

Trichromats – Formerly nocturnal herbivores.

Tetrachromats – Insects, fish, birds, reptiles, dinosaurs, and many mammals.

What would it look like externally?

There is really no limit to the number and variety of eyes or photoreceptors, but animals tend to only have the equipment they need.

Simple light sensitive photoreceptor spots are not necessarily visible.

The eye may appear as an immovable lens, and may have a movable component behind the lens to aim the field of vision.

If the eyes are large relative to the skull (i.e. birds) the eyeballs may not be moveable.

If the eyes have a narrow field of vision (i.e. spiders) the animal may compensate with more eyes.

Though complex eyes may look outwardly similar they may have widely different features (color, field of vision, etc).

Compound eyes are typical in small insects and provide low acuity for their size.

The movability of the eye and field of vision affect the appearance or behavior of the animal. For instance a bird may look askance to see better; a heron may appear to be looking straight ahead, but their field of vision is so wide they can see their feet and scan the whole area without moving their eyes. It’s important to note that many species would not “face” the subject of interest to better see it, unless their eyes are located like a human’s.

What would it feel like?

Visual Acuity: Most animals have “blurrier” vision than humans and use a combination of other senses to populate their world with the kind of dense information we get with vision.

Color: Additional types of photoreceptor exponentially increases the number of colors perceived. With tetrachromacy colors are significantly more differentiated. White may be several colors.

Field of View: Animals can have panoramic vision, so they don’t have to turn their head to stay on the lookout for predators or prey. Some birds on the wing can see ahead and behind at the same time.

Refresh Rate: To a fly with a high refresh rate, humans move in slow motion. If a human moves slowly enough, they will appear completely stationary to the fly. Perception of time may feel very different.

[empty-masks]

Book Two, Chapter Thirteen

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

It’s been a day and a half, and after having scoured her notes while nursing a pint of now-foamless beer, Brie realizes that her interviewing efforts have been mostly in vain. 

Baker and his crew are an odd case to be sure, and one that if she weren’t already employed by a company that had her hooked with a huge paycheck, she’d be investigating on the side. Their stories all line up weirdly well with what she’d been told about her own quarry. Go into a hole, get knocked unconscious by something down there, wake up with seemingly nothing wrong. Until the gemstones started growing, that is. And while she can feel the sparks begin to fly in her brain when she considers applying the same cause and effect to her quarry, the occupational part has to shove the thought down, knowing better than to make connections where there realistically won’t be any.

Talking to Steiner and his crew was frustrating, and a considerable waste of her time. Beyond their connections to Baker and her last group of interviewees, they had little to nothing to do with just about anything, and seemed to only be there on passing business. Brie thinks that Steiner had mentioned something about needing boat repairs, but it was hard to decipher what he was saying most of the time; if something valuable was said, there’s a chance it was lost in translation. 

Of course, then she gets to the only lead she has-- Jules and Lucille, the last of her interviews. They were quite fruitful, compared to the other groups. The former admitted outright to them being bounty hunters, and the latter asked whether the bounty had been updated since they’d heard about it. Brazen and confident, Brie thinks to herself. Those are the words that best described them.

I shall now have to watch them as well, as any damages they procure are in pursuit of the bounty posted by the company, and thus, the company is responsible for them (even if they’re not on their payroll). She sighs, gathers her things, and heads toward that smithy’s shop that she last saw Roxanne at. Those are bills that will go straight to the heads of the company, she thinks as she walks. Miss Hickory will not be pleased to hear that we’ve already hit that point of the contract. 

Brie knocks firmly on the door of the smithy, hoping that this time, she won’t get nearly flattened by an incoming golem.

“The sign says closed,” Cobalt’s voice calls out from inside.

“I apologize, but I am not here for business! I’m here to see my friend, Roxanne?!” Brie calls back. “She is still here, yes?!”

A brief thumping occurs before the door is cracked open just enough for Cobalt’s vision and the barrel of a gun to stick out. “What do you want with her?”

“Oh!” Brie exclaims, immediately holding up her hands in surrender. “I was just looking to check in, as I have concluded my interviews and believe that we should get going to the next town? Please do not shoot, I’ve been traveling with her for a few days!”

The Draconid lowers her eyes. “You’re the one she’s mentioned? The Shepherd Gemstone lackey?”

“Well, I am not on their direct bankroll, I’m technically an independent contractor who happened to land a lucrative job, but yes, I am the one who is traveling with her.” She manages to muster an awkward smile. “May I come inside?”

The door is closed, a latch is undone, and a bar is slid backward before the door is opened once again, and Cobalt lets Brie enter. “She’s upstairs,” the Smith says, pointing to a door behind the counter.

“May I ask the reason for the, uh, firearm?”

“Just in case Blondie comes looking for a second round.”

“Ah.” Brie says, looking around the shop. “Perhaps I shall just go and visit her. We shall get acquainted later, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“That works well, also.”

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

By the time they approach Davey’s house, the sun has begun to turn the sky a delicate orange, with licks of yellow patterned throughout the clouds. They both can hear the mushroom farmer barking orders to their three friends in the back, and when they walk around the side, they find each of them bent over in the field, carefully extracting the fruit from the mycelium and placing them into pre-prepared buckets. Davey, leaning on his pitchfork, has turned into a bonafide foreman, keeping track of each of his workers with hound-like efficiency. As Azariah and Cherry approach him, he yells out to the others, “Ya’ friends’r back, you lot! Put down th’ mushrooms!”

Leon, who’s closest to the group, remarks, “Finally. This one wouldn’t come out.” He kicks a steel-coloured mushroom at his feet lightly, and it rings solid on his boot.

Davey gasps, and brandishes the pitchfork in a flourish. “Ya’d better not be smackin’ around my product, Orc! I’ll have ya’ head’n a jiffy!”

“It’s not going anywhere, Davey. Good luck getting it up yourself.” He walks past the farmer, patting him on the shoulder. “What’s the word from town?”

Azariah leans up against the side of the farmer’s home, and explains. “We’ve got only a few hours of daylight left, but I’ve managed to get somethin’ goin’ in there. There’s a supply store that we’ve got a contact in, and they’ll be willin’ to give us some replacement clothes. Get the company brandin’ off our back. If we’ve got enough cash left afterward, there’s a local joint we can go visit for some grub, too. A few of us will have to work at the store for a couple days to pay off the loaned Tilt, but once that’s done, we’re free to do as we please. Any questions?”

Olive and Judith had gathered around the site of the news as it was being given, and the latter raised her hand quickly. “Judith?” “We’re walking into town with our jumpsuits on?”

“Cherry and I did it earlier. It’s not like we’ll be put to the torch just for wearin’em in town. It’s if we linger with’em. That’s where the problem comes in. Just be prepared for some weird looks.”

“I’m not worried about the townies. I’m worried about the mercenaries, Azariah. I’m worried about the people who’ll think we fit a description, and start getting out their fucking guns and ropes.”

Olive raises her hand. “I’m, uhm, gonna agree with Judith here. If the word’s already gotten out about us, then, well, we probably shouldn’t wear our jumpsuits.”

Leon turns to Azariah and nods. “It’ll be safer.”

The Hare looks down at Cherry, who has already laid down his bandolier, and begun unzipping his jumpsuit. “What?” the Techie asks, cocking his head to the side. “I have clothes on. Everyone has clothes on under their jumpsuit, right?”

“I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t,” Azariah remarks, beginning to unzip himself as well. “Company mandated gear on everyone else as well?” He asks, pointing to his thin, white wifebeater and thick jean shorts.

“Too bad the civvies wouldn’t last a day out in the woods,” Olive mourns. “Even with the company brandin’, these jumpsuits ain’t gonna rip no matter what we walk through.”

A roll of “Yup,” “Yeah,” and “Sure”s come from the group, with the exception of Davey, who’s been investigating the quality of the crop that they had harvested for the day. Picking through mushrooms, a thought strikes him, and he stands from his squat. “Leave’em with me! Ya’ suits, leave’em here, I’ve got a mean closet in th’ back that’s nobody dares’ta open. They’ll stink like high hell when ya’ come back for’em, though.”

“Perfect,” Leon says, handing him the dirty, crumpled ball that he had turned his jumpsuit into. Everyone else does the same, and they stand there in the brisk autumnal air in nothing but what may as well have been their underwear by that point. Everyone begins to catch a shiver as they walk into town except Judith, as she unrolls the sleeves on her dress shirt. They wave goodbye to Davey, who silently thanks them for their free labour, even if they did drink a few vials of some of his primo Morel Liquor.

    Just as predicted, Judith’s edit to the plan works a treat. They walk without a hitch to the supply store, meet with the contact, have a quick conversation where they introduce themselves, and immediately get to shopping. There isn’t much to choose from— it’s a general store, with most of its stock coming from one or two large companies. Everyone naturally gravitates toward the heavy coat section, since it only gets colder as the light faded. Except for Olive, who taps Azariah on the shoulder and asks, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course, Olive. Is somethin’ wrong?”

“I’m really, really hungry. Could I go and, uh, maybe scope out that place you were talkin’ about earlier that had the food?”

“Sure, so long as you’re back in a bit. At this rate, I dunno if we’ll have enough cash leftover, so we’ll need some scavengin’ work done.” “Thanks! What was the place called again?”

“Superposition, or something along those lines. It’s an inn, so it’s bound to have somethin’ good cookin’ up around this time.”

 The idea of an inn makes Olive pep up significantly. “Perfect! I’ll be back in a jiffy!” She gives Azariah a wave goodbye as she nigh jogs down to the opposite end of the terrace, where she finds exactly what she’s looking for. The scent of roasting meats perfumes the air around the place, and doesn’t even glance at the sign to know she’s in good company. She opens the doors, walks over to the bar, takes a seat, and immediately asks the tender what’s on the agenda for dinner.

“Goat, slow-roasted with herbs and spices, and served with a side of hot dripping sauce. Cabbage optional, pepper grinder on the side,” a familiar voice says, tapping her on the shoulder. “How’ve you been, Olive?”

She turns her head to find Lucille taking a seat next to her, and a smile bursts forth onto her face. Nearly knocking the bar stool over, she leap-hugs her old friend. “Holy shit! I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been so long, my god, what’ve you been doing?! I’m doing really good, how’re you?! Where’s—” she pauses, as another hand taps her on the shoulder. “Jules! C’mere!” She shoots out an arm, wrapping it around the Vampire’s neck and pulling him close. “Y’all have no clue how nice it is to see you. I can’t believe it!”

“I can’t believe it either,” Jules says, shooting a look to Lucille. “Did you strike a vein of something back at the mine? You’re off your contract awfully early.”

“You could say somethin’ like that’s happened,” she smiles. “God, I’ve got so much to tell y’all. So much… so much has happened.”

“Start from the beginning, we’ve got all night. We’re here on a job, but it doesn’t start until tomorrow morning,” Lucille mentions, pulling away from the hug and leaning over the bar. “Like, with your contract. I thought that shit would’ve kept you there for years, Olive.”

“So did I! But then, well, somethin’ happened. I may have had an accident,” the Owl says, lowering her head to the two of them. She whispers, “My blood is orange now.”

“No…” the Vampire chuckles.

“Yeah. It’s ‘cause I’ve got some, uh,” she looks around, making sure nobody else is within earshot. “I’ve got some rocks in my bones now. Somethin’ happened when we went on a dive, and me and four other people ended up like this.”

“Huh. Weird how things work out. We just caught up with another friend who had something similar happen. Ended up with him and his crew missing eyes, with gems growing in the holes,” Jules says, pointing to his face with a gloved finger. “That sound familiar?”

“Well, no. It’s on the inside. And it’s turnin’ our blood funky colours, like I said.”

Lucille nudges Olive on the side, and stands up to walk to the door. “So, yours is orange, huh? What about the others, who’re they?”

She stands up as well, following behind. “You wouldn’t know some of’em, they’re pretty new. Like Judith and Cherry, they’re both pretty new hires. But Leon and Azariah? You knew them, right? You might’ve seen Azariah a couple times, with his bein’ an old timer, and I would assume security would’ve kept an eye on Leon. Azariah’s is darker than the rest of us, I think, but it’s been a while since we checked. The rest, I dunno. I don’t think they’ve bled at all in a bit.” They step outside into the brisk evening air, which hits Olive like a fist. “Why’re we outside? It’s chilly.”

Lucille turns back to the Owl, and plants a hand on her shoulder. “While it was nice catching up, it’d be even nicer if you were to lead us back to your friends.” She frowns underneath her scarf. “It wouldn’t be nice to see Jules take a bite out of you.”

“Especially not if your blood’s turning weird colours,” he mentions. Olive’s eyes widen. “Oh, it’s that kinda job.”

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

The worst that Piper has to deal with on the way back to Admin is that she’s still reeling from how it all went down. The adrenaline, the power, the suddenness of it! That sort of split second life-or-death danger is new after years of just ordering around miners, occasionally knocking some sense into one if they got really uppity. Hell, and even then none of the miners ever dared to shoot at her or attempt to get at her with anything more dangerous than a rock or a pick. She’s never been shot before.

According to the clinic, she took it like a champ, even though she came in looking like she’d just taken a bath in tomato sauce. The bullet had initially dug itself deep into her shoulder, nearly coming out the other end. But, thanks to her transformation, the muscle growth had pushed it back up toward the entrance wound. They didn’t bother with anesthetic when they pulled it out, and she didn’t flinch. When it came time to sew everything back together, she only felt pinpricks, the pain minimized by her continued reflections over the job. They sent her off with a few days of mandated rest, and told her that it’d take a week or so to make a full recovery. Possibly longer if she overworks it, which she considers a very real possibility.

 She doesn’t bother giving a heads up to the secretary as she passes, enters Gilroy’s office, and places the deed on his desk. “I got it,” is all she says before standing herself straight and smoothing out her still bloody jumpsuit. No spares at the clinic and no inclination to run around in a hospital gown means she’s been waltzing around looking like literal bloody murder.

Gilroy, settled quite comfortably in his chair and sipping a warm drink— some kind of cider by the smell of it— glances down at the deed. With his free hand he lifts it to his desk lamp, inspecting it slowly, meticulously, before setting it back down. “Looks real enough to fool anybody if it is a fake, but given I didn’t even tell you the man’s name before sending you out, I’d have to assume this is the real thing. And you didn’t get any blood on it, either. I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to get this so soon, not when Jessup seemed to never manage it himself. Still, good work’s good work. Sit down.”

Piper nods and does as she’s told, slipping her tail up and over one of the arms of the chair across from her boss. “I don’t think Jessup had been doing a particularly good job of a lot of things for a while, if I can be candid.” She frowns. “The old man took a shot at me.”

“Unsurprising. He shot Jessup last time, but he walked it off. I’ll tell you what, though, this is a great relief, Piper. With this in hand we can really get the gears turning again, especially after I get those replacements hired.” He laughs, leaning back. A long, drawn out sip of cider is taken, then the mug’s left on the desk, beside an empty glass and a notepad that’s seen far, far better days. “I guess you’ll be wanting your payment. Hang on a second, I need to get my checkbook out.”

 With that, Gilroy leans down and withdraws a fine leather checkbook, with little, golden flourishes resembling the company logo in the vaguest abstraction possible. He picks up a pen off of his desk and, without any hesitation, writes out the full payment. After that it’s set in front of her, allowed to linger only for a moment before her gloved hands take it up.

Something gnaws at her, somewhere inside, however. “How’s that letter of recommendation coming along?” she asks, unable to stop herself.

He snickers at her, then nods and opens a drawer in his desk to pull out an envelope, already labeled and marked. “I’m a man of my word. You did this job, and for that much money and a single letter, I don’t mind the effort on my part. I wasn’t the one who got shot, after all.” His eyes narrow with his smile as he puts the letter down and lays both hands over it. “It’ll be mailed to Black Hill soon enough. I’d suggest you slow things down, though.”

“Why?” Piper frowns, leaning forward. “I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No, Piper, you performed wonderfully. Not only did you get what I asked for, you didn’t even get any blood on it and based on what I can see, you decided against taking any trophies from some old has-been. However, the best of the best in your line of work know not to endanger their potential earnings by getting an injury that might put them out of a job. How’s it holding up?”

Piper scowls at the torn shoulder of her outfit where the crisp bandages peek out like a mischievous, off-white insult. “I’ll be back in a few days. Should be all sealed up by then. Not something I can’t shrug off. Lycan’s a lycan, whether it’s fur or scales.”

“All well and good, but I think it might be a smart idea for you to start worrying about that kind of thing. So, you take that pay and I’ll give you some time off. Go out and enjoy yourself, but I might have you called in for a job soon.”

If it isn’t after I get given my golden ticket to better work, she thinks. It’s easily read on her face, but Gilroy’s not insulted.

Instead, Gilroy raises the mug again and lets out a quiet laugh. “Go on, Piper, get going. I’m trying to relax here and so should you. You’re moving up in the world. Oh— and invest in something less absorbent. I hear you can get it off of leather with a sponge and some soap.”

Not another word is exchanged between them before Piper’s up and out of the office, putting the check away inside of her uniform. She still has the company car for the night, but there’s nothing to head out to. She’s not running the mining operations on site anymore, and she’s never been terribly close to anybody there anyhow, especially now that the two idiots that flanked her mines, Judith and Jessup, are gone.

Jules and Lucille are far away right now, she supposes. Can’t try and find them. Judith and Jessup weren’t even that good when it came to being coworkers, anyway. Jessup had just been around for a long time and admittedly Judith was cute but far too aggravating to be around.

She’s got more money in her pocket than she’s had in the past year and even a bunch of time off and nothing to do. Is this the kind of money that gets custom work like Blondie had, or even like the old man had? That revolver was mighty pretty, even if there’s no point to making it look nice.

Her lips purse as she settles into the driver’s seat of the company car again. What had it been that Gilroy had said? She didn’t take any trophies? No, of course she hadn’t. That wasn’t a part of the job description. There was no reason to take anything, even if it was tempting to get herself a shiny antique pistol. Is it often that they worry about trophies? Is it bad etiquette to take them?

There was nothing stopping her from taking anything that old man had. She took the deed, she could have taken his blanket, his couch, or that revolver. She could’ve taken that picture in the box and burned it and nobody anywhere would have known, and unless she elected to wear or drop anything she’d taken off in front of Gilroy before meeting with him he wouldn’t have known either.

In all honesty, the couch was good looking, better than her Admin apartment’s bed. Maybe she should’ve taken it?

Nobody’s going to give you what you want. You have to make it happen— you have to take it. Her jaw rolls. Her fingers curl around the steering wheel and her boot presses to the pedal. “Just have to take it,” she mumbles to herself.

First order of business, parking the car properly. Second, a shower and some good sleep. After that, a vacation in Black Hill.

Chapter End.

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[[ Table of Contents ]]

Blondie & The Smokestone March is © 2020-2022 Empty Mask. All Rights Reserved.

[librianofthemoon]

Train Journeys

It's a common occurrence for me to spend at least two hours on the train every week as I commute from country to city. And I've always found this time, is where I do my best thinking.

Ideas, curiosities, inspiration and wonder all dance around my mind like moths to a flame. I start off in the country, and as the train makes its way along the tracks I am spoiled with views of wild rugged countryside in between small towns dotted along my route.

What beauty there is in the outdoors. Rain pours and Winter calls and everything turns from green to brown. Dormant, damp, dull and old yet the pure freedom of the growth in the trees and hedgings. No rules no guidance. Just as free as life can let it be.

There is a certain liberty I find in watching how life is within nature. How it grows and developes unique and bold in its own way.

Then as I near the city that freedom disperses and a new form of natural growth appears. The growth of civilization. Houses are in orderly rows making way for roads and greenery for children to play on. Town centres, churches, streets and shops grow in numbers and size. And everything we touch as people, becomes organized and fixed.

Now I had a friend who is a strong believer in saving the planet (which I 100% support) but in her beliefs its sad to say, she has become lost in her understanding of life and the appreciation we should hold for it.

According to her thoughts we are parasites on the World. Ruining it with our selfish acts and greed. And although I can understand her views in one aspect what I disagree with is her hate towards people. How can you be human and hate humanity?!

Does a lion hate another lion for his larger consumption of meat on the wild planes of Africa?!

I think to view humanity as a parasite is only damaging our understanding of life in itself and in our role on the planet. Yes, population has grown and there has been a huge increase in the ugliness in the World. But I still believe we are as natural as the wild trees that grow in the fields I pass on the train.

Why do we have such ways of living? Why do we build houses, and shop for an abundance of food, and dispose of our rubbish? Why do we garden in such cultivated ways when the natural world can grow so free?

I believe it's down to a very natural instinct we were created with. Survival.

We set standards, expectations, belief systems, ideals, judgements and all the rest in some shape make or form to survive.

Now we have come a long way from our forefathers who were hunter gatherers and lived with a great appreciation and respect for the natural world around us. But to say we are parasites.......well by definition there is fact. But it is viewing life in a sense of "Nature is beautiful and people are not" "Animals are beautiful but insects and parasites are not"

But is there really a them and us? When we are all part of the same circle of life. Albeit with different psychological programming going on in our brains.

To speak with such disgust on one or the other shuts us off from being able to appreciate all aspects of life. And as people we are far from perfect, but perhaps that was the way we were meant to be?

I like to run these thoughts through my head. I think naturally as humans we should be curious. When we stop being curious we limit ourselves to a much smaller World of understanding. And by hating anything or anyone so strongly, we only cause ourselves anguish.

Well, that's all my rambling thoughts for today. My train is crossing the Shannon and I am nearly at my destination. If you have any thoughts to share please feel free to.

[ahopelessromantic]

Children of Sun and Darkness (M)

Part two of A Child of Sun and Darkness

Pairing: The Darkling x Sun Summoner! female reader

Word count: 8,7k (oh boy)

Warnings: once again, spoiler of the Darkling’s name, SMUT, Aleksander being a SIMP, fluff, so much fluff, villainous behavior

A/N: I really, really got carried away with this one. Especially since I didn’t even intend to have any smut in here. But alas, the apology letters to Ben Barnes and Leigh Bardugo are sent once more and I wish you all a happy reading experience. I really do must warn you again of the Darkling as a father though, I don’t think you’re ready.

A gorgeous ray of sunshine was tickling your barely awake self.  There were things to do, certainly, but your bed felt far too heavenly to be left already. The air had recently begun to smell like the promise of summer, and it paired so nicely with the flowers Aleksander always brought to your bedside table. Aleksander, you thought sleepily and slowly opened your eyes. You would have loved to curl into his lean body for a few more minutes before getting up, but it seemed like he had already so cruelly abandoned you. You were about to pout like a little baby when a soft morning wind carried the sound of laughter through your window. Aleksander must have opened it before leaving your shared chambers. Wanting to know the source of these joyous sounds, you slipped into your morning robe and stepped in front of the big window. After your marriage to the infamous Darkling, the two of you had moved your chambers to be closer to the Little Palace’s beautiful gardens. From where you stood now, your position on the second floor gave you the perfect view over them.

“There she is.” Your husband beamed with his lovely deep voice. He was looking up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. Your daughter, barely even four, shrieked happily at your sight and sent another ray of sunshine your way. “Good morning, my love!” You called out to her. She ran up to her father, who picked her up so she could see you better. Your chest warmed at the sight of the two people you loved most in the world, the serenity in their expressions. “Good morning Mama!” She giggled back. You blew her a kiss, which she caught enthusiastically. “You should have awoken me!” You chided your husband. He smiled. “How could I, when you were sleeping so peacefully? Besides, we wanted to try if Ilona could get her sun rays all the way through to our bed. Did she manage it?” The proudest smile grew across your lips. “She did. You did amazing, honey. So amazing, that when I get down there, I’m gonna have to smooch you all over!” “NOOO!” She screamed and skipped away to the pond to look at her beloved fish. “Are you coming down for breakfast? I already had the servants set out a table.” You sighed happily and just looked at your husband for a moment. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?” The grin he sent you in response caused your knees to weaken. “Who would I be if I didn’t.” To hide your blush, you scrunched your nose and disappeared from the window to get dressed for the day. Only a short while later you had finally made it to the gardens, clad in the same colour as your husband: deep black. Upon seeing you, your daughter began to happily run towards you. Suddenly then she seemed to remember your threat of extra smooches and turned around, but it was too late. You caught up with her and gathered her into your arms, tickling and kissing her all over. She laughed loudly, only half trying to escape. “Good morning, little sunshine.” You finally properly greeted her once you were done, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. She turned around in your arms and buried her face in your neck. “Did I do good with the sunray, mama?” You smiled and pulled her even closer. “You did so well, Ilona. I love you.” She leaned away to look at you, the brightest smile on her adorable little face. “I love you!” She responded and kissed your cheek. Saints, she was everything good and soft in the world come to life. “Can I go feed the fishies?” She asked enthusiastically. You grinned at her, forever enchanted by the little human that was so you and so Aleksander. “Of course you can. Go ask the servants, they’ll give you some food for them.” The Darkling, who had watched the interaction between you and your daughter, stepped forward with a happy smile. You were about to ask what specifically he was smiling about when he placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. There was barely anyone around, but the kiss’ immodesty still caused your cheeks to flush. “My sun.” He whispered, only for you to hear. “I swear you look lovelier by the day.” You sighed, still phased by the kiss, and slid your arms around his waist. “And I swear you get more charming by the day. Is it a thing of darkness, your cheek? I think I see some of it in Ilona.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think that’s all you actually.” He nodded to where she was knelt on the edge of the pond, apparently talking to its inhabitants. “I only know one other being that can be so kind and yet so fierce.” For a moment, his words rendered you speechless, but then you pinched the fabric of his kefta. “Alright, Mr Darkling, now you’re overdoing it. Where is this breakfast you’ve promised me? I’m starving.”

Giggling like the two lovestruck Grisha you had been years ago, you set off to the little table laden with delicious breakfast foods. It gave you a perfect view of your daughter, close enough to see her, yet far away enough to allow her the space even she as a little person was owed. You and your little family spent most mornings like this: Breaking the fast together, you and your husband watching your daughter play, talking court politics while eating. There were unrests in Ravka again, unrests the old king didn’t seem capable of dealing with. “He’s a fool, and I wished I could see him gone.” You hummed at your husband’s words, staring at your tea in deep thought. If he had only been just a fool, you thought. He wouldn’t be any danger to anyone, then, but his empty-brained attempts at displays of dominance were costing the second army precious lives every time. But he was still the king, and the two of you were still just the second army’s general and his wife. “Careful with the treason talk so early in the morning, my love. I don’t think it’s all that becoming with my sweet roll.” He smiled and took your hand from across the table. You squeezed it and sent him a meaningful glance. “Besides, you never know who might be listening. You know I couldn’t bear it if the Lantsov family were to imprison you.” Aleksander sighed, now, and wistfully looked across the Little Palace’s grounds. Some Grisha were training in the far distance, Inferni, by the looks of it. His gaze was pensive, a look you well knew by now- he was planning something. But apparently, it was too early to let you in on his schemes yet. He just pressed a kiss to your knuckles and looked at you in earnest. “I promise you, my sun. One day, we won’t have to bow to anyone. Our world will only consist of our family and Grisha, and it will be safe. I promise.” An unexpectedly reverent feeling spread across the breakfast table. You nodded solemnly. “One day.” You whispered back. That seemed to please him because his face returned to the kind smiles he usually wore around you, and he pressed another kiss to the back of your hand. “I love you.” He mouthed at you, and you mouthed it right back. Then, as it tended to happen with a toddler child, the two of you were interrupted by Ilona climbing into her father’s lap. “Papa, can I have a dagger?” Both you and Aleksander snorted out a laugh at the determination in your daughter’s voice. She really was a force of nature, your little one- quite literally. Not fully in control of her powers yet, she seemed eternally surrounded half by darkness, half by light. No one had thought it possible, but so far it seemed she had inherited both yours and your beloved’s powers. Ballads were being sung about her in taverns ever since word of her powers had left the Palace walls and witch hunters trying to get to her ever since that, too. Now, Aleksander Morozova had always been concerned with the safety of all Grisha. But more and more often these days you found him pacing in his war room at night, or watching your daughter with far more than fatherly sorrow. It was an all-consuming fear and sorrow for her safety- one you shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to know her safe. Once you had been driven by ambition, then by love for your husband. But now such a fierce protectiveness spurred you on that caused you to think yourself capable of far greater evils than your husband had ever committed.

“Do you think the Second Army would follow us? If we were to split from the king?” Aleksander’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his deep brown eyes finding yours. The two of you had been dealing with some late-night paperwork, General’s duties. As the sun summoner and, in addition, the Darkling’s wife, you almost held as much power and responsibility as him these days. Your husband put down his pen and pensively sank back into his chair. “I don’t know.” He uttered finally. “I wish they would, of course. But some Grisha are as loyal to Ravka as Otkazat'sya. Some of them do wish to serve their country. And some of them do love their king.” He grimaced at that, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Ravka’s eagle is double-headed for a reason, you know.” He continued, and you turned serious once more. The sentiment of Ravka’s duality was a nice one- but one that was destined to fail, in your opinion. The Grisha already lived so separated from the country’s regular citizens that it was almost ridiculous to even count them as part of them. Most Otkazat'sya seemed to condemn Grisha for their powers, and most Grisha seemed to look down on the Otkazat'sya. They both had their good reasons, you figured. But how much contempt, how much annoyance or even hatred separated non-Grisha from Drüskelle? You inwardly shuddered at the thought of Fjerda’s Army, with their repeating rifles and their ruthlessness. Aleksander’s hand on your shoulder caused you to return to reality. “What’s on your mind, my sun?” He asked, his voice ever so soft. Sometimes, with how much love he showed you every day, you forgot about how evil he could be, how hated he was by so many. “I-“ You began, then sighed. “I’m thinking about what you said the other day, at breakfast. About not having to bow to anyone. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. What would happen if we were to take one of the eagle’s heads? Leave the people and their Lantsovs to themselves and found our own sovereign nation of Grisha power. It would be of the tsar family’s interest to stay in our good natures, we could trade their foods and goods for our protection. But on our own terms. And we would be safe, in a city of our own, protected by Fabrikator walls and your Darkness. Ilona would be safe.” Your husband had that look on his face again. That look of deep contemplation. “A safe place for all Grisha. Most importantly, Ilona. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.” He said quietly. You stroked his cheek, ran a hand through his hair. “I know.” You hummed. For a moment, you spotted a glimpse of the man he had been when your daughter had been born. He had been so eager to do everything right. So happy, yet so frightened and worried at the same time. His first words upon seeing the little bundle that was your newborn daughter had been “She’s so small”, accompanied by tearful eyes. She had been small indeed, so very little. During the first weeks after her birth, whenever you hadn’t been holding her, he had been. There hadn’t been a nanny, a wet nurse even. The both of you had been far too afraid to let your precious daughter out of your sight. Still were. She was your everything. You felt guilty for steering your nightly conversation down such a dark path, so you took his hand and lovingly squeezed it. “I trust you, Aleksander. I trust you to do what’s right for us as Grisha, and for us as a family. And believe me when I say I will be by your side for anything you ever decide on doing.” The smallest of smiles began to tug at his lips. “Come on now.” You said softly and breathed a kiss against his jaw. “It’s late, and it’s my matrimonial duty to distract my betrothed from any worries that might plague him.” He was fully smiling now, a familiar playful glint in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked at you with one raised eyebrow. “How would you think to go about doing that?” You returned his playful smile and got up to settle yourself right into his lap. Something dark flashed across his eyes, something that told you you wouldn’t yet sleep for many more hours. “What about this?” You whispered and experimentally ground down on him. A devious smile was on your lips. For a moment, he let you have the upper hand. Leaned his head back, breathed deeply. Sometimes, you were allowed to see him like this. To have him like this. Feeling bashful, you leaned forward to place a myriad of kisses against his neck. You could almost hear his heartbeat speeding up, his breathing growing heavier. His hands wandered to your waist, then to your hips. He used his strength to press you down on him, and it was then that you were done for. Your moment had ended, it was his turn now. Aleksander looked up at you with dark eyes, his pupils were blown wide and barely noticeable in the low lighting. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you sometimes.” His voice had dropped at least an octave deeper. “My perfect, perfect wife. My perfect sun, with a body so powerful. A body strong enough to bear life.” Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, you had to make an effort to bite back the tears that had risen to your eyes. Your husband truly always knew what exactly to say- even to a mother who sometimes found herself quite insecure in her new curves. “I love you.” You marvelled, kissing him softly. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it until you were both gasping for air. “Shall we retreat for the night, my sun?” You were about to respond when he lifted you up and placed you on the table the two of you had been sitting at. “Or do you want to taint this place forevermore? Curse it, so I think of being inside of you whenever I hold council here?” You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. Then, you smirked. That seemed to have been answer enough, because he was on you again in seconds, devouring every inch of skin he came across. “Do you remember our first night?” You gasped out between moans. Aleksander stopped in his tracks for a moment to look at you, lifted your chin with his fingers. He looked unravelled. Like he was merely dangling by a thread anymore. “You mean when I almost had you in the hallway, of all places?” You grinned and felt your eyes light up. “Exactly.” You whispered and leaned forward to capture his lips again. He groaned into the kiss. “Saints.” He panted. He seldomly addressed saints, if ever. It sent a wave of cocky satisfaction through you. “All this time with you, and you still find ways to catch me off guard.” Chuckling, you pulled him impossibly closer by his collar, crossing your legs behind his waist and grinding up against him. “I think it’s included in those matrimonial duties of mine.” “You’re going to have to- ah.” He took a deep breath. “-Send me a list of those.” You wanted to respond something, anything, but you didn’t get the chance to. Not while your kefta was being unclasped, not while his hands bunched up your skirts around your hips. “Do you want to go slower?” He asked, breathing heavily, his forehead leaned against yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, then smiled. You felt surrounded by your husband, by his scent, his presence, his arms. Most of all, you felt safe. A kind of safety only Aleksander had ever been able to provide for you. After a moment, you shook your head. “No.” You answered, nipping at his neck. “No.” You said again, sliding his kefta off his shoulders. “I want you. I need you. Now.” Suddenly, time seemed to speed up. You helped the Darkling unbuckle his pants, shrugged off your own coat, allowed him to rip most of your blouse open. The thoughts of witch hunters and civil unrests were still heavy on your mind, and you wanted him hard and fast, so he could take away all of your worries. Normally you weren’t as impatient as this. The two of you loved drawing things out in the bedroom, all teasing kisses and devilish grins. But today, things were different. Today you wanted to forget. Today you wanted to be overpowered by him. You didn’t even have the proper time to admire his length, for as soon as it had been exposed, it was already teasing along your folds. You sighed out shakily. “How badly do you want it?” Aleksander asked, one hand playing with your breast. “So badly, Aleksander.” He sighed at that, too. His name from your words would maybe never lose its effect. “If you were taken from me, I would kill. I would destroy entire cities to have you again. To have this again.” Your words almost felt as intimate as your wedding vows. They sent you both forward again, lips colliding in a clash of teeth. His tongue touched yours and sent a bolt of electricity down to your nether regions. “Nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing will ever take me from you.” He vowed back. With that, he entered you, and you both moaned out loudly. “Fuck!” He almost yelled. “How are you still so tight?” It was clearly a rhetorical question he didn’t want an answer for, for his hands were clasped around your neck. You allowed your head to drop back in pleasure and voluntarily clenched around him. “All for you.” You rasped out through his grip. He started fucking into you at that, the both of you losing your ability to form proper sentences once the so familiar fire started to spread between you. Somewhere, the edge of a book was pricking into your side, but it only spurred you on further. You always felt like the queen of the world like this- desired, full of pleasure, the most powerful man in the kingdom losing himself in you. You thought of how he would never be able to look at this table normally again, how he would twitch in that adorable way of his whenever people weren’t paying attention to him. Saints, you loved him. You loved him. Your heart felt warm and full, but so did you. At some point he hoisted you even further onto the table, his pace relentless now. But you didn’t care, you needed more, more, more. “Aleksander!” You gasped out when he brushed up against that place inside of you. “I love you.” You panted, tightening your legs around him. He looked at you like there was nothing else ever worth being looked at. Like you were a painting he could neither understand nor get enough of. With shaky hands he moved a few wayward strands of hair out of your face, then he cupped it in his hands tightly. “I love you.” He answered, stressing each word with a thrust of his hips. “Oh fucking saints, I love you. I’m so close.” “Let go.” You encouraged him seductively, tugging at the hair in the nape of his neck. “Give it to me, Aleksander.” His pace seemed to grow impossibly faster until it grew erratic. “My sun. My love, my goddess, I’m going to-“ With a loud moan, he came, his pulsating member spilling his seed into you. You helped him ride out his high, pulled him closer, clenched and unclenched in his rhythm. He shuddered at that; head buried in your neck. It was your moment once again. He was all yours to have. “I love you.” The two of you whispered at almost the same time and broke out into laughter. But the laughter caused you to clench again, and Aleksander winced from the hypersensitivity. “You’re just too tight, my love.” He almost teased and moved to remove himself from you. He wasn’t really in a state to tease again, yet. You pouted. “But I don’t want you to leave me. I always feel so empty afterwards.” He breathed a kiss to your cheek that could have well been a concealed laugh. Sometimes the two of you would stay connected like that for ages, neither of you willing to end this incredibly pleasurable state of warmth and satiation. But while that was easy to do on a bed, it wasn’t so much on a desk. “Besides.” You continued. “We’re going to make a mess.” Your husband looked at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I like the mess.”, he said decidedly. “Leave it to the servants to be cleaned up. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For someone to know what cursed, unholy things their Saint does for her evil husband?” You barely even blushed at his words. Saints, he had ruined you- in the best way possible. “Now come on, my sun.” He uttered. “If I remember correctly, you still need taking care of.” You shuddered at the thought of what was to come. His fingers inside of you, his lips on your most sensitive spot. Oh, how good you had it. Smiling and holding his hand, you followed your husband back to your chambers. He stayed true to his promise there- two times. Afterwards, you sleepily held him in your arms, your fingers drawing abstract, invisible designs onto the skin of his back. Through the connection the two of you shared you could feel his peacefulness as if it was your own, a sense of pride filling you. You were the one in whose presence he could relax, let his guards down- no one else. You pressed a gentle kiss to his hair, a silent ‘I love you’. “My love?” He murmured and pressed an equally soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hm?” You hummed in response and watched your husband straighten up so he was able to look you in the eyes. He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “I want more children, as many you’d be willing to have. Brothers and sisters for Ilona, so she will never be alone. More time for us to experience holding a newborn babe again. But I fear for our daughter so much, every day. I fear for any future children of ours, even. And I think we’ve lived in fear for long enough. I’ve lived in fear long enough. I thought if we just waited for the king to die, waited for him to live out his pathetic mortal life, we could seize control one day. But I’ve been patient for centuries, and I’m tired of it. I think the time for action has come.” Aleksander’s words caused you to sit up, too, your heartbeat uncontrollably speeding up. “Will you fight with me, my love?” You pensively moved a strand of his hair away from his gorgeous features, then lifted your chin. “Always.” You breathed. The smallest of smiles lit up his face. Your husband leaned up to kiss you, then pulled you into his embrace. “We’ll change the world. For us. For our family.” You squeezed his arm in response. You truly would.

The next few months were spent meticulously planning the beheading of the ravkan eagle. Your mornings were spent in softness, laughing with your daughter, cuddling with her in bed, and then that softness was exchanged for the coldness of daily council meetings. Spies were seeking out the intelligence of the opinions of Grisha on a potential Grisha state, letters were being sent, fighting styles being trained. The king and queen would pose the smallest problems for your cause- they would either cooperate with the second army’s leaving or leave their lives. Angry mobs were your bigger worry- there was a smart way to go about the splitting off of the kingdom, and you were eager to take it, with as few casualties as possible. Then there was the question of your new country’s location. You didn’t need lands the size of Ravka, but you still needed space for houses, training facilities, farmlands. Surprisingly many Grisha were open to leading a simple life of caring for crops and animals, having long tired of the so-called ‘war effort’. Your council meetings grew with each week, more and more Grisha eager to take part in the founding of a home of their own. Fresh faces kept on turning up every week- a Suli Fabrikator here, a Shu Healer there. The once so spacious halls of the Little Palace were beginning to feel cosy, filled with the hope of new alliances forming. It was getting harder by the day to keep your efforts hidden from the king, and the time to strike seemed to be nearing. Ilona seemed to be feeling it, too. Her new favourite pastime was to make friends with as many of the new Grisha as possible. You and Aleksander had both felt apprehensive about it at first, but once you deemed her safe you realized how much power of her own she truly held. She was a symbol. A symbol of you and your husband’s strength, of a new generation of Grisha. A generation that would grow up in safety, without being trained to be used in fights their entire lives. The people in the Little Palace loved her, they had taken to calling her the ‘Grisha princess’. It made you partly proud, partly uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be an instrument in your fight for freedom, just another weapon to be used, but you couldn’t hide her away, either. She was still small, and young, but she still deserved a life in the light. Late at night, when he was feeling particularly safe and vulnerable, Aleksander sometimes told you stories from his childhood, his youth. How his mother had eternally urged him to stay hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t a way to live, he had once said. And he was right. Ilona deserved her fishpond, her Grisha friends, her chance to openly use her powers. One day, you and your husband already deep into planning your coup, you watched her play with a young Squaller boy. They were both laughing loudly, their happiness more than contagious. You found yourself smiling, heart and body warmed by the afternoon sun. This was what you were fighting for. What you were always going to fight for. Freedom. Only a few weeks later, the time had come. The king was holding a ball, and it was the perfect opportunity for a show of strength. Countless honorary representatives had been invited, the perfect audience for what you were planning to do. You, your husband, and your legion were hoping for a peaceful encounter. The second army was going to show in its full strength, crowd into the ballroom and declare its conditions. You all hoped the sense of unity you had all started to feel would make itself noticeable, pose a threat. The council meetings with your fellow Grisha had long ceased to feel like generals talking to their subordinates. You were equals in your cause, and as the objectively most powerful Grisha, you and your husband were treated with the respect of such. Almost everyone doubtlessly acknowledged you as the heads of your operation, the rulers of Little Palace. The king, of course, was going to be appalled, yes enraged even over your actions. He would spew harmless threats at first, feeling ashamed and belittled for having missed out on developments of such a grand scale right under his eyes. But his power was by far no match for yours. It had come just as you had hoped it would. The king of Ravka had begrudgingly signed your declaration of independence after hours of discussions, angry tantrums and finally quiet pleads. The Grisha would have their own eagle from now on- no shared heads. You would claim lands west of the fold, protected from each side by mountains, the true sea and the world of shadows your husband had created so long ago. The people already living there would have the choice of continuing to stay there, or move somewhere else for a compensation. Grisha from all over the world would be welcome in this sanctuary- you had space and power enough to keep them all safe. Once the coup was over and done with, you sought out a moment alone with your husband. It was a few days after, and both of you had been stuck in nonstop meetings and conversations with fellow Grisha. There was the name of your nation to be decided on, the flag, the layout of your new city. You had been so busy even, that your victory still hadn’t fully registered with you. “Are you alright?” You nervously asked Aleksander in his private office. It was nicely cool and dark there, a welcome change from the Little Palace’s crowded halls. His eyes met yours at that, a smile reflected in them. He looked the healthiest you had ever seen him, a new vigour in the way he moved. Sometimes you forgot that, while you shared the same cause, it already had been his before that for centuries. His years of pain and solitude had finally paid off. “I am not just alright, my love. I’m overcome with joy. Don’t you see it? We’ve changed the world.” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion and fairly vulnerable. Carefully stepping into his embrace, you took in his scent, sought out his ever so calming touch. Just like he had done in the very early days of your relationship, he wrapped the two of you in comforting darkness. “I’m a bit scared.” You admitted quietly, choked up with tears. “It feels surreal that we’ve won.” Aleksander sighed and pulled you closer to his body. He knew what you meant- he had felt it too. This fear of everything being ripped away as soon as you’d held it in your grasp. “I know.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your temple. “But it is done. Our declaration has been signed by the king, his ministers. The first army will allow us to leave- or be met with our collected strength. You’ve seen the halls outside, the gardens. I don’t think as many Grisha as this have ever been in one place, in all of history.” You looked up at his face, the beauty of his finely chiselled cheekbones. He was pure strength, safety. As if to remind you of your own power, you filled the room with a golden glow. You were the legendary shadow and sun summoner, the two strongest Grisha who had ever lived- nothing was going to come into your way. You got onto your tiptoes and hugged him tightly, buried your head in his neck. He reached his arms around your waist, and his so familiar certainty flooded your bloodstream. “We’ll have everything.” You murmured, half incredulously. Your husband chuckled at that and playfully squeezed you tight. “I promised that, didn’t I? I think it’s part of my matrimonial duties.” You both laughed, pulling away to look into each other’s eyes. Aleksander caressed the side of your face, nothing but devotion in his gaze. “I know that this new reality is frightening. We have more to lose than ever. But we can carry this fear together. Turn it into something beautiful, something to last for centuries. We’re not alone as long as we have each other.” At that, you leaned up to kiss him lovingly. You both sighed against the other’s lips. It had been ages since the two of you had last had the time to lose yourselves in each other’s embraces. “We’ll have all the time in the world for this, soon.” You realized suddenly, happily. The darkling smiled. “We will. We will my love.”

A few months later, your husband stormed into your chambers. He exuded a wild sort of happiness, his eyes restless. First, he pressed a kiss to Ilona's head, then he picked her up and twirled her around. She shrieked with laughter, and you lowered the book you had been reading while your daughter had played into your lap. Aleksander’s eyes met yours, untamed joy written in his features. “It is finished.” He spoked, and as if struck by lightning, you got up from your seat. Your book clattered to the floor, and the loud sound sent your heart racing. “Is it really?” You quietly asked, eyes wide and incredulous. He nodded reverently, hugging Ilona close to his chest. “The head of the Durasts received the word just this morning. The Fabrikators have finished our city, based on the drawings we’ve both seen. It’s marvellous, according to their reports.” Your hand wandered to your heart, as if to will it to go slower. You breathed heavily, taking a moment to let the realization sink in. You would be safe, on your own terms. Not the king’s. Both you and your husband had been overseeing the construction of your new city from within the Little Palace’s walls, not wanting to leave until it seemed completely safe. For months, assorted groups of Grisha soldiers, healers and most importantly, Durasts, had been crossing the fold to make your shared dream of a Grisha nation come true. The Darkling stepped closer to you, put his arms around both you and your daughter. A giggle escaped your lips. “It’s done.” You breathed; happy tears in your eyes. Aleksander returned your look with equal happiness and leaned forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Ilona giggled, sensing the happiness of her parents. “We can start the moving nothing shorter than this week if you want to. They’ll need your powers for the fold.” Sending smaller groups through the fold was alright. But for the massive move you were planning, you would accompany the myriad of coaches and carts, to keep the Grisha and their belongings safe. “The two of you will be alright here, for a while?” You poked Ilona’s side, and both her and your husband laughed. “We’ll have loads of fun. We’ll have a parade to say goodbye to all the fish, and we’ll tour the Little Palace to pick out all the paintings Ilona wants to take with her.” You grinned happily. They’d truly be alright.

The move was exhausting but fulfilling. You crossed the fold several times a week, accompanied by carts stacked with furniture, livestock and necessary equipment. Once an Alkemi cart almost eradicated a group of Inferni, a sign of how nervous and eager everyone was to escape into a country of their own. Your favourite part was listening in on the other Grisha’s conversations while guiding them through the fold. There was a group of young tidemakers gushing about the prospect of seeing the true sea for the first time and playing with it, two Alkemi discussing how to maximize carrot harvests with the right mixture of sun and Grisha fertilizer. You hadn’t been to the new capital yet, only seen its buildings gleaming in the far-off distance. You wanted it to be a surprise, to set foot in it for the first time with your husband and daughter.

“Enjoying the view one last time?” You asked gently and leaned against the doorframe. Aleksander turned to look at you in surprise, looking a bit lost in the empty room. The time to leave had come, and he had been quietly saying his goodbyes to the Little Palace for the past week. The two of you stood in what had once been his office, now nothing but an empty room with a pretty view. Your husband sighed, something in his expression calling out to you. You walked up to him and allowed him to put his arms around you. “Where’s Ilona?” He asked softly. You smiled. “With the other children. I think they’re playing one last epic round of hide and seek.” That answer seemed to calm him, free his thoughts for other topics. The two of you stared out of the window in silence for a while. Eventually, he sighed. His chin leaned on your shoulder, and you could feel his apprehensiveness. “I’ve wanted to leave this godforsaken place for decades. To never have to see the Grand Palace again. But despite all of that leaving is…” He trailed off, his gaze wandering into the distance. “It’s harder than I expected.” You placed your hands on his arms around you, squeezed them gently. “You’ve built this place. It’s only understandable you find it difficult to leave behind.” He scoffed, and you knew that sound. He made it whenever he was feeling something he hadn’t expected to feel. “This was the first place I’ve ever felt safe in. The first at least relatively safe place for Grisha there’s ever been.” You gulped down a ball of tears. “You should be proud of that.” You whispered. At that, he finally smiled. “You’re right. This is a first draft- a product of the past. We’re moving into the future now.” Grasping one of his hands, you held it up to your lips to press a kiss against it. “Are there any things you still want to take with you? Any last thing you still want to do?” He turned you around in his embrace and pressed your back against the wall right next to the window. A playful glint was in his eyes now, and you were overwhelmed by the sheer happiness he exuded. “I could think of a few things.” He placed a naughty kiss against the side of your neck, and you giggled. “You’re insatiable.” He straightened back up to look at you again and took an impossible step closer to you. “For you? Always.” He breathed, and the time for laughter was over.

The move to your new home took about three days. You wanted to take your time, show Ilona the parts of Ravka she had never seen. But of all things, the Shadow Fold seemed to have awoken her interest the most. While the other children and many adults, too, huddled close for protection, she skipped ahead. Her head was continuously tilted upwards in an attempt to take everything in. “I think she’s sensing your power. It feels familiar to her.” You smiled, taking your husband’s arm. His gaze was fixed to your daughter’s small figure, and his eyes glistened suspiciously. It was only then it dawned upon you- the Fold had been his biggest mistake, his very own monster- an abomination. Seeing his own daughter treat it with so much innocent fascination must have stirred hurt parts of his soul you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Your smile died down into a face of quiet adoration. You took a step back and left Aleksander to have this moment by himself. After centuries, he probably had been starving for one like it. After a few minutes, he turned around, his gaze seeking yours. There weren’t many Grisha around, most of them had moved already, so he allowed himself to keep his guards a bit lower than he usually did in the presence of other people. You sent him an encouraging smile and caught up with him to take his hand. “Do you want to catch up with her? We should probably get back to the coach if we want to make it out of the fold by noon.” He returned your smile, then took off towards your daughter in quick strides. “I’m coming to get you, Ilona!” She put up quite the fight, but in the end, she curled into her father’s arms, still giggling. She had always loved playing catch with him, even when her legs had barely carried her for more than a few steps. You didn’t miss the way Aleksander first glanced at the Fold around him, kept at bay by your powers, and then buried his face in Ilona’s hair. He was cherishing every moment of this. The next day, Nostova’s walls finally appeared on the horizon. The name you had ended up deciding on for your new country meant home, and you already felt a fierce kind of pride for it. “It’s just like the drawings.” You marvelled while finally riding through the gates. The bright Fabrikator made walls gleamed in the afternoon walls, and behind every corner, something new took your breath away. Eventually, you finally arrived at the most important building- your new home. It slightly resembled the Little Palace but looked… homier. There was enough space for administrative offices, meeting rooms, ballrooms for celebrations and a great hall to receive visitors. Emissaries from Ravka or Grisha with petitions, things of that sort. Walking through it, an eternal look of astonishment seemed to take hold of your face. It took you everything not to openly gape at the beautiful furnishings, the symbol of your nation etched into the entrance hall’s stone. An eagle, half shrouded by shadows, half dipped in light. It looked proud, grim, protective. And not like the Ravkan eagle at all. But what you liked most of it all were your new private chambers. There was space enough for at least four more toddlers, a library of your favourite books, a sitting room with a painting of you and your husband. It felt regal and comfortable at the same time. There was a private little staircase from your and Ilona’s bedrooms to the garden, something Aleksander had specifically requested. The Fabrikators had outdone themselves, and you only hoped they would feel the same pride in their work as you felt looking at it. The compensation they had received for their work would allow them more than comfortable lives in Nostova, lives they would hopefully enjoy. Your heart almost bursting with happiness, you watched Ilona and your husband take your new living quarters by storm, your little princess loudly counting down everything she approved of. With an inward sigh, you realized how spoiled she was going to be here. But whenever you talked to Aleksander about that he never seemed to quite understand the problem. ‘Let her be spoiled’, he only always said. Sometimes you forgot just how wrapped around Ilona’s little fingers he was. An odd thought struck you at the sight of your little family. This, Nostova, would be the first time in so long Grisha families would be able to stay together. Children would have their mothers and fathers again, would be allowed to train their powers with them by their side. “You look a little choked up, my love.” Your husband said teasingly, coming to a halt in front of you. His breathing was heavy from all the running around with your girl, and his hair was a mess. The darkling you had first met at the Fold years ago would claw his eyes out at the sight. You grinned at him, completely at ease with your husband seeing your emotions. “I’m just beginning to realize what all of this means. It’s incredible.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, at which Ilona demanded he return to her so they could explore the rest of your rooms. You and your husband shared a laugh, taking a moment to revel in your happiness. “I have a surprise for you later.” He whispered into your ear, and then he was gone, back to playing with your daughter. You had to refrain from fanning your face. Your cheeks felt very hot all of a sudden.

“Where are we going?” You whisper shouted, tightly holding onto your husband’s hand. This definitely wasn’t the kind of surprise you had expected. Aleksander chuckled and just kept dragging you in the direction of Nostova Castle’s main wing. After many halls and double doors, he finally came to a halt in front of a set of gilded doors. He positioned himself between you and them, an impish smile on his face. “I know I told you you’ve already seen most of the castle, but I wanted to keep this as a surprise for you. Show it to you when it’s just us two.” You lifted your eyebrows, your excitement starting to match with his. “What is it?” He bit his lips, seemingly conflicted. “Close your eyes.” He finally commanded. You breathed out a laugh in surprise but complied. “For someone who’s centuries-old, you really do behave childishly sometimes.” Your husband chuckled. “Now, dearest wife. Don’t stab where it hurts. Besides, you have centuries ahead of you yourself.” At that, you smiled. You did. Centuries by your husband’s side, centuries to watch your children grow up in peace and find love themselves. Your husband had already led you into the room behind the golden doors. Your steps echoed loudly, a sign of its probable grandeur. The two of you stopped and you felt Aleksander step behind you. “Would you give us a little light, my sun?” Smiling, eyes still closed, you called upon enough light to dip your surroundings in a light glow. “This…” He started, then sighed. “This is the most important room in the castle. We’ll receive guests here, announce decisions… open your eyes. This is our throne room.” Your eyes snapped open, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Just in front of you, on top of a few stairs, two breath-taking chairs overlooked the room. To your feet, a stunning mosaic of a sun in eclipse was let into the floor. One of the chairs was made of part gold, part glass, the glass reflecting your light beautifully and sending it through the room in tiny specks. The other one was made of the darkest wood, silver stars worked into the back- and armrests. But that wasn’t even the most beautiful aspect of them. The chairs stood a few inches apart, but where they were closest to each other they bled into the colour of the other. The golden one’s side was dipped in black, the black one’s side in gold. They were undeniably yours. Still rendered speechless, you climbed the stairs and sat down in the golden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, and from it, you could oversee the throne room in its entirety. It was beautiful and regal enough to put Ravka’s Palace’s rooms to shame. The Darkling looked at you nervously, awaiting a reaction. You smiled at him and beckoned him to join you. “It’s beautiful.” You said happily, a smile growing across your husband’s face in return. He sat down in his place next to you, and for a moment the two of you just sat there and took in the view. This was your status now. Sovereigns of your very own nation, with thrones to call your own. You got up from your seat, enjoying the Darkling’s eyes on you. You stepped in front of him and slowly curtsied, conjuring your best demure expression. “Moi soverennyi.” You breathed out, looking at him from beneath your lashes. He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the hunger flashing in his eyes. You had decided to stick with his old title and have people address you as such, too. Nostova felt like it had outgrown the concept of Kings and Queens, but you and your husband both still undeniably held the power over the state. Feeling bold in the dark of the night, you sank into your husband’s lap. He was quick to pull you close, put his arms around you. “How improper you are, my lady.” You stifled a laugh. “I had to see if yours is comfortable, too, didn’t I?” He chuckled and littered kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your neck. “I can’t even tell you with how much joy it fills me to see you so happy here. Ilona, too.” Still smiling, you played with fingers. “I am happy.” You confirmed. “Happy we finally have made our place in the world. Made it ours. At the perfect timing, too.” You felt Aleksander start at that, and he turned you in his lap so he could look at your face. “What do you mean?” He looked confused, and a bit scared. Deciding he could stay like that for a moment, you just took him in, smoothed his hair back. He was beautiful. Powerful, dangerous, yours. “Don’t you feel it?” It wouldn’t hurt him to tease him a bit more. Just like he always did when he wanted to feel what you felt he sought out the touch of your skin on his- and shuddered. “Oh my.” He whispered and touched you again as if to make sure. “My love!” His gaze locked with yours, wide with surprise. Then, the most brilliant smile split his sometimes eternal frown. “Is it really-?” You nodded and placed a hand on your belly. “Ilona will have her first sibling soon.” With that, Aleksander started frantically talking. “I must have been so distracted by all the planning that I haven’t even noticed it, I can’t believe it! Our second child! For how long! We must make preparations at once, call a Healer-” Tears of joy in your eyes, you shut him up with a kiss on the lips. “I’ve already talked to Asa, the same healer as last time. He figures I’m about four moons along. So there’s still plenty of time for us to prepare.” Aleksander just looked at you completely starstruck for a moment. “I love you.” He finally murmured. You smiled, placing your hand on top of his on your belly. “I love you more.”

Soon after, your first son would be born. Your lovely little boy, named Kiran. Ilona was completely smitten with him, just like you and your husband. After him, four more children followed. Some were sun summoners like you, some shadow summoners like your beloved husband, some both, like Ilona. But all of them would gain legendary status throughout the centuries. They would travel the world, help settle conflicts between the neighbouring countries that rose and fell as if in the blink of an eye. Nostova, on the contrary, remained eternal. Like you and your husband. Its peace had allowed Grisha to grow stronger than ever, and your nation now counted many thousand people as its citizens. Sometimes, your children would visit you in your capital. Some of them had settled down there, too, like Ilona. She had married a heartrender, and their children came to play with you and your husband on Sundays. Your life had become gentle, and kind. You could see it in your husband’s face, too, every day. Only the boldest of kings and queens dared threaten your home, and it barely happened for any of them to follow through with their threats. Neither you nor your husband had any regular fighting or defending to do. You had been allowed to devote yourselves to ruling justly and fair, raise a healthy nation. In the mornings, you stood by your bedroom’s window and watched young Grisha train the use of their powers. In the evenings, you fell asleep side by side, still giggling about the day’s happenings just like when you had both been young and restless. Grisha from all over the world had found peace. And so had you.

[theguardianofinsanity]

Can I please be left Alone? Part 2

Read Part 1 right here.

"Ow...ow...ow-OW!" You repeat as Ignis patches you up. "Iggy, be careful please?" You plead with him.

"I apologize Y/N, my hands are tired after taking care of Noct" he says while grabbing one of your hands.

"Oh! Did you like it? It was some of my best work"

"If you consider bruises and cuts "art", then no" you frown.

"Come on Iggs, he came at me first! Ask Cindy!" You gesture over to blonde mechanic who was currently cleaning up the regalia. She finishes wiping down the car before answering.

"I do hav' ta agree with Y/N, they did give him a good fight. I'd hate to imagin' if they weren't friends" she ends with a chuckle.

"Thank you Cindy! Ignis, all I wanted to do was get some rest" You sighed. "It's not my fault Noctis doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself"

"I understand and with that being said, I'm done but I want you to take it easy for a bit" Ignis says, crossing his arms. You perk up, slowly turning your head towards him with absolute glee on your face.

"Does this mean-!" You begin to ask.

"Yes this means you can go sleep in car" he facepalms as you race out of the chair you were sitting in to the regalia. You see Cindy walking back to the shop.

"Cindy! Cindy! Come here!" You yell to her with your non-hurt arm waving to get her attention. She sees you and speed walks over.

"What can I get ya darlin'?" She asks while trying to wipe oil off her face.

"I will do any labor you want, help you in any way. If you can keep the other three away from me, only Ignis can bother me." She looks at you confused but agrees anyway. She gives you a light kiss on the forehead and leaves you to sleep. You slip into the passenger seat, reclining it, putting your legs on the dash and close your eyes.

Fuck. You can't sleep. Now you're incredibly wary of the idiots you travel with coming to you and bothering you. So now here you are, unable to sleep.

But you can hear Cindy being the best person ever by diverting the boys away from the car, she even gave you some water! She is an angel. But noise of everything also kept you up.

What you didn't expect was another person that you hadn't spent an uncountable amounts of hours with walking up to you.

The owner of the diner that is right next to the car shop walked up and looked into the regalia to see you in the most comfortable yet uncomfortable position yet. "Um, Y/N right?" He asks. You straighten yourself out and sit up properly much to your misfortune.

"Yes, how can I help you?" You ask, pretending you weren't laying down like you were before.

"One of your hunter friends said you would gather some ingredients for me" he states. You flare your nostrils and inwardly groan. You climb out of the car and excuse yourself to go die in the trailer by the diner.

Opening the door, you stomp over to the bed and faceplant on it. Currently fighting the urge to scream, a concerned voice comes out of nowhere. "Hey Y/N, you okay?" It was a very deep and gruff voice, after a bit of silence you respond.

"Yeah Gladio, I'm okay" your voice is muffled by the bed, "I'm just really tired" you lift your head.

"That fight with Noct really tuckered you out?" He was half right, you were already tired before then but that fight didn't help at all.

"I'm gonna say yes for now because of lack of brain power"

"Alright then"

"By the way, why are you in here anyway? Did we already rent this?"

"At this point Y/N we should own this thing" he knocks on the walls of the trailer.

"That's a good point" you lazily lift your arm up for emphasis, that gets a small chuckle from Gladio.

"Dude you look dead" he continues to chuckle.

"Well that's fitting because I want to be right now" you groan out.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone. I'll even guard the door for you" he offers.

"Thanks Mr. Mullet, please make sure to thank Cindy for me and tell Prompto he can have his seat back" you ask getting more and more tired.

"Will do, have a good sleep Y/N" you hear him say before he leaves you.

Before you drift off you hear a faint excited scream assumedly from Prompto. You giggle a bit before finally getting what you wanted all along.

To be left alone

You as soon as someone walks near you:

[dreamerstreamer]

Devil-May-Care

Pairing: demon!Dream / Clay x demon hunter!gn!reader

Summary: [Demon Hunter!AU] When you went in search of the most powerful demon known to mankind, you didn’t expect him to be so charming.

Warnings: a little horror + some violence + tw// weapons (crossbow, gun)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this was requested by a passionate anon! i fell in love with the request at first sight and had loads of fun writing this, although i did take some creative liberty with it. i hope you all enjoy :)

You huffed as you pushed past the branch hanging in your face, wrinkling your nose as you trudged onward. The forest was almost eerily silent around you, the pitch black night doing nothing to ease the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. Above you, the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly, peering down at you with wide, watching eyes.

Where could he possibly be hiding? you thought to yourself with a grimace. Is he even in this forest?

Your mentor had told you that this forest was the last place he’d ever been seen, and that it would be your best bet. But she also told you not to get your hopes too high, since he was known to be a trickster who never stayed in one spot for too long.

You sighed as you stepped over a fallen log, making sure not to trip. Despite how young the night was, you were already getting tired. Tracking was arguably the hardest part of your job, and easily your least favourite part of it.

Then again, no one said being a demon hunter was easy.

With a slight grumble, you squinted through the darkness while walking past another tree. So far, all you’d seen was tree after after tree, and you were getting fed up. Heck, you could have sworn there was a clearing just ahead of you here.

It was at that moment that the trees suddenly parted before you, and you found yourself standing in the middle of a clearing. The soft grass rustled beneath your feet as you took a tentative step forward, your ears perking up for any noise or movement. When nothing came, the muscles in your legs tensed.

This was the first clearing you had found in hours, and something about it just felt off.

“What are you looking for, little hunter?”

You whirled at the sound of the low, curling voice, your gaze frantically darting around the darkness for its source. You kept your lips pursed as your head whipped this way and that, nothing but silence filling the forest air. Even with the light of the moon, all you could make out between the shadows were the silhouettes of trees and their taunting branches looming over you.

There was no way it was who you thought it was... right?

“Not gonna say anything? Hm. Perhaps that’s just because you can’t see me. Here.”

You heard the snap of a finger, and the clearing around you suddenly lit up in a faint, greenish hue. Your eyes widened as the earth you stood upon began to glow, your fingers twitching at your side. Turning again, you quickly searched your surroundings once more for the voice’s owner. Everything seemed to be exactly how it appeared when you first arrived—the trees were just trees and the grass was just grass, even if they were both admittedly glowing.

Just then, there came a whistle from above you.

You lifted your head, and your gaze fell upon a figure sitting atop a tree branch a few feet away. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

Piercing, emerald eyes. A green fitted shirt to match. Dark, golden hair. A smattering of freckles. A cold, wicked grin.

The man smiled at you, swinging his legs leisurely as he tilted his head. “Hello there, pet.”

You didn’t wait another second before your arms were reaching up behind you, pulling your crossbow off your back. You slotted the arrow into the flight groove in near record time before aiming it up at him, aiming for but a split second before you pulled the trigger. In a flash, the arrow went flying through the night sky, pointed directly at his face. You could have sworn you caught his eyes turn red before he suddenly vanished, your arrow passing through empty space before pinning itself into the tree trunk he had been leaning against just seconds prior.

You panted, quickly pulling another arrow out of your quiver and reloading your crossbow as you turned in a circle, not a single detail going unnoticed by your watchful eyes. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to focus on the rustling leaves around you. Your fingers curled around the stock of your bow a fraction tighter, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Where is he? Where did he go?

A smooth voice curled around the back of your neck.

“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?”

Whipping around again, you pulled the trigger without even an ounce of hesitation. A twang of satisfaction shot through you as you heard the distinct sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a tumble to the ground. You rushed over at the sight of the man—or demon, as you should be calling him—lying sprawled on the ground, his arms casually tucked under his head as if he hadn’t just been shot.

“Ooh,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the arrow sticking out of his chest, “your arrows are made of dreamshade.” He grinned at you. “Smart one, aren’t you?”

Before you could even react, he ripped the arrow out, watching with amusement as crimson slowly dripped onto the front of his shirt. You stared at the hole in his chest, left behind by your arrow, a glimmer of glee expanding in your chest. Yes! you thought, your lips quirking as your hand floated toward the pistol hanging at your side. Now’s my cha—

All of a sudden, you watched in horror as the skin began to reform, the sinew and muscle stitching themselves back together to fill the gap. In an instant, his chest was whole again, the hole having disappeared entirely with nothing to even hint at its existence, were it not for the tear in his shirt.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, tossing the arrow behind his head with a flick of his fingers, “I’m tougher than most demons out there.”

In a flash, you were standing over him, one foot digging into his chest. You didn’t even give him the chance to blink before you were pointing your crossbow at him once more, this time just barely allowing the arrow tip to hover above his neck. You tried to calm your breaths, pushing back the sick sense of joy you could feel starting to boil over inside you. You were so, so close to just killing hi—

“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to attack me without even asking for my name?” he calmly drawled, looking bored out of his mind.

You blinked in surprise, your thoughts faltering for a moment before your expression hardened once more. “I know who you are.”

He cocked his head at you, something like delight swimming in his viridian eyes. “Do you, now?”

You gulped, hesitating only for a moment before you began to speak. “Y-You’re Dream. Lord of chaos. Progenitor of destruction. Harbinger of nightmares.” You nearly choked on your own words.

“The world’s most powerful demon.”

He grinned at you, clapping his hands together above his head as he let out a small hoot. “Aw, you know all my titles?” He winked. “That’s cute.”

Cute, your brain repeated dumbly, a fuzzy feeling forming in your chest, but you quickly shook the thought from your head with a scowl. You should not be happy that one of the most powerful demon’s known to mankind called you cute.

(Okay, well. Maybe you were a little happy. Not that you would ever admit it.)

With a stony look, your finger wrapped around the crossbow trigger, the cool metal sending a shiver down you spine. “I’m here to kill you, Dream.”

He didn’t look fazed. “Oh? Even though we only just met?”

A snarl ripped itself out of your throat, fury slowly beginning to claw up your insides. Why did he sound so calm? Didn’t he understand that he was about to die to your hand?

“That doesn’t matter,” you said bluntly, trying to ignore your heart ramming away at your ribcage. “You’re a monster that needs to be disposed of.”

He hummed, absentmindedly picking at his nail. “That’s bold of you to say.” His tone was dull and interested, and his eyes seemed to shine even brighter thanks the green glow surrounding his head. “I can’t remember the last time a demon hunter has ever been so upfront with me.”

The string tying your restraint together snapped. That was it. How could he be so nonchalant? So apathetic? Didn’t he care?

“You’ve killed so many people,” you spat, “taken so many innocent lives, and for what?” You narrowed your eyes, nothing but pure disgust running through your veins as you dug the tip of your crossbow into the soft flesh of his neck. “What reason do I have to stop myself from ending your life right here, right now?”

Below you, Dream only stared blankly at you, his eyebrows raised. Then, he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the stock of your crossbow. Panic shot through you as he pulled it away from his throat with ease, his fingers curling around the polished wood. “First of all,” he said lowly, “that little thing isn’t going to do anything.”

In a blink of an eye, you heard the snapping of metal and wood, your gaze going wide. He shot you a cocky grin. “Not anymore.”

You leapt back, gritting you teeth and tossing your now useless crossbow onto the earth beside you. Your hand moved in a blur as you reached down and pulled out your pistol from its holster, pointing it toward him. “Each and every one of these bullets is soaked in holy water,” you shouted, your hand cocking back the safety. “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

Dream rolled over onto his stomach, his grin widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “Tell me,” he drawled, tilting his head, “do you really think you scare me?”

You ignored the shaking of your fingers. “I—I can and will shoot you.”

He laughed, an uncomfortable warmth wrapping around your gut. “Please, darling—I’ve been alive for longer than you can even fathom. As if you’d be the first to pin me down, let alone try to shoot me.” His eyes flashed crimson, and you felt your stomach drop. “I know all your hunter tricks and tactics, and believe me when I say they won’t work.”

Suddenly, he floated up off the ground, not changing his position whatsoever. In only a matter of seconds, he was hovering above you, blinking down at your shocked expression with mirth glimmering in his scarlet gaze. 

Of course he could levitate—what were you expecting?

“Second,” he said, “I did a lot of those things a long time ago, especially in human years. How long has it been?” He tapped his chin. “Probably centuries by now, which is like forever for you guys.”

You scowled at him, your pistol still pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused any chaos recently.”

“That’s true!” he chirped, snapping his fingers. “But my more recent activities have been much more... tame in comparison to my golden years, don’t you think?”

As much as you wanted to shoot him right here and now, you also wanted to punch him in the face before you did. “Lives are lives, Dream!” you shouted. “Any more or less lost doesn’t make you any more redeemable.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, flipping onto his back as he continued to hover in the cool, night air. “Oh, you humans and your morality. How entertaining you all are.”

There was only one word running through your mind as you glared at him, your jaw clenching tight as your rage only multiplied inside you. Monster, monster, monster.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to drift a fraction lower toward you. “Well, I do believe I should ask—who’s to say that I was the one who killed those people, anyways?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “...what are you talking about?”

He peeked an eye open at you. “It’s not like I flew down from the sky and shot them all with a rifle, and it’s not like I just snapped my fingers and everyone dropped dead.” He hummed at the thought. “Just what kind of person do you take me for?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your toes curling in your boots. “Stop distracting me—you’re dodging the question.”

“On the contrary,” he shot back without missing a beat, “I’d argue that you’re dodging mine, pet.” You could hear the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat as he spoke. “Do you really think I was the one purely responsible for all that destruction?”

You tried to ignore the slight tremble of your hands. “A-Aren’t you?” you stammered out. “You’ve started wars, detonated massive bombs, pushed people to their absolute limits. That stuff’s all your fault.” You gulped. “...isn’t it?”

For a second, he simply stared at you. Then, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, how naïve you are, pet. Just what were you taught?” As he clutched his chest, he sunk a little lower toward you. “I didn’t fight on those battlefields. I didn’t press the red button. I didn’t kick men and women to the ground, pointing guns in their faces. But do you know who did?”

The cogs in your head began to turn as you wracked your mind over his words. Then, a wave of understanding slammed into you, and you lowered your pistol, your arm going limp at your side.

He couldn’t possibly mean...

“Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it.” His lips curled up into a delighted smirk. “Humanity did.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Oh, no.

The manic look in his eyes only grew. “Oh, yes.” He cackled at the look on your face, pointing at you. “I didn’t even have to lift a finger for you to all walk straight into your own demise! How pathetic is that?”

You took a shaky step back, your pistol dropping to the ground. “B-B—”

“B-B-B-But what?” he said mockingly, mimicking you in a high-pitched tone. “Did they tell you that I’m the big, bad wolf and that humanity is Little Red? Because they lied, pet. They lied to you.” He pointed his fingers together to form an X, tilting his head at you. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a liar. A trickster, perhaps. But a liar?” He narrowed his eyes. “Never.”

He bent down where he hovered in the air, waggling a finger in your face. “The truth is, darling, is that I didn’t do anything. I just stood in the room and watched. I might have pointed out that that one little duke was in perfect view, or that that one city only had so many people living in it, but I never took any lives myself.” He lightly tapped your nose, and you shrunk back as he crooned, “Humanity did all that, pet. They’re the real monsters to blame here.”

You wanted to sink to your knees and melt into a puddle on the ground. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Your mentor told you that Dream killed all those people—that he was the one to stab the knife in and twist it while pulling it out. She wouldn’t lie to you, never in a million years.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But there was something about the freckles scattered across Dream’s face and the way the moonlight bounced off his eyes that made you realize.

He was telling the truth.

A few moments passed in silence as you stared long and hard down at your feet. You could feel Dream’s gaze boring into your figure, eyeing you up and down as you struggled to steady the beating of your heart. You half-expected him to mock you even more, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Maybe he was more human than you thought.

“Why?” you finally whispered after god knows how long.

When you were met with silence, you raised your eyes to meet his once more. “Why did you do it?” you said, louder this time. “Why did you interact with us at all if you wouldn’t even get your own hands dirty? If you knew it would only end like this?”

His eyes flashed, the tiniest hint of carmine swirling in their murky depths. “Isn’t the answer obvious, pet?” He flashed you a wicked grin. “I was bored.”

You blinked, realization slowly setting in. “Bored? Bored?” You were about to lose it, now. “You did all that just because you were bored?”

He shrugged. “Sure did. Chaos makes the world so much more interesting, don’t you think? If only good things happened, you would be bored, too.”

Your stomach churned with disgust. “You’re twisted.”

His smile only widened. “At least I’m having fun.”

All you could do was stare at him in defeat. This wasn’t right. There were more ways to have fun than to toy with humanity’s psyche and drive them to end people’s lives, even for a demon like him. There had to be something you could do. For some inexplicable reason you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a part of you almost wanted to help him.

I must be losing my mind, you thought. What person in their right mind would try to save a demon, let alone the most powerful one of them all?

You, apparently.

The cogs in your head began to churn, your mind bustling as it tried to come up with some alternative, no matter how silly. There had to be something he could do that wasn’t just this.

That was when it hit you.

“Why,” you started slowly, your voice coming out shaky and unsure, “don’t you have fun in a way that doesn’t destroy things... but creates them?”

He blinked lazily at you. “Hm?”

You swallowed, raising your chin. “You—you can have chaos, but it doesn’t need to be destructive.”

He raised his brows. “It doesn’t?”

Your gaze hardened. “Not at all.”

Just then, a flash of memory shot through your skull, and you gasped. “Say, Dream,” you began, “do you—do you know how the Greeks thought the universe came to be?”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. “First,” you said, “there was chaos. And from chaos, life was born. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals.”

“And humans,” he added.

You nodded. “And humans—like me.” You pressed a hand to your chest. “See? Chaos can create things. It doesn’t have to be so full of death and terror.”

While his expression was bemused, there was something sad about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You do realize that that’s just a story that you human made up?” he hummed. “How the universe came to be is far more different.”

You blinked. “You were alive for that?”

He sent you a blank smile, the look in his eyes betraying nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.” Waving his hand, he flipped over onto his back, floating a fraction higher than before. “Point is, that kind of chaos probably doesn’t exist.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “But it could,” you whispered.

He paused, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What?”

You dug your heel into the ground, raising your voice. “It could! You don’t know that it doesn’t.” You took a step toward him, throwing your arms out. “Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that exciting? That there’s a whole other form of chaos you’ve never discovered before?!”

Your shout rang out into the quiet forest as Dream stared at you, his lips parted the tiniest bit. Rather than looking amused or arrogant, he almost looked... raw. Real. This might just the most vulnerable look you’d gotten of him all night.

Then, he burst into laughter.

Lowering your arms, you huffed at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth blossoming between your lungs as you took in his wheezing face. “W-What?”

“Oh,” he gasped between peals of laughter, “what a treat you are, pet.”

Heat flashed across your cheeks as he wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckles slowly dying down. His laugh should not sound as attractive as it was—he should not be as attractive as he was.

“Tell you what,” he said as he caught his breath once more, sending you a devilish grin. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my real one.”

You stared at him for a moment, then your jaw dropped. “What?”

He stared at you, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”

For a few seconds, you simply gaped, your brain still struggling to process his words. “But... but why?” you finally blurted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He hummed at you, flipping upside down. “What about it doesn’t make sense? It seems like a fair trade to me.”

Sputtering, you threw your hands into the air. “A demon’s true name is the source of their power! By handing it over to me, you’re basically putting your life in my hands—in a demon hunter’s hands.” Your face blanched at the mere thought. “A human name and demon name aren’t even remotely comparable.”

He blinked at you, slow and lazy. “I know.”

You didn’t understand—you couldn’t understand. “Then why are you doing this?”

He dipped his down toward you, his face hovering mere inches away from yours. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. “You’re interesting. And rather cute, I suppose.”

You back-pedaled, your eyes wide as you stammered, “I-I could kill you if you told me your real name.”

He hummed, tucking his hand under his chin. “Perhaps, I suppose.” His lips curled upward. “But you won’t.”

Your hand squeezed around nothing. “You don’t know that.”

He chuckled again, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Oh, yes I do, pet. Don’t act as though I can’t see right through you. I know you’re too wishy-washy to kill me off just like that.”

He tilted his head at you, his gaze brimming with mischief.  “That’s the thing about humans—you’re all so greedy. You all want something you don’t have, something that fuels you to acquire more. It might be power, or fame, or fortune, or love. It’s quite pathetic, really. But curiosity?”

Lowering himself, he pushed himself up until he was standing flat on the ground again, his hands sliding into his pockets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your mouth went dry. “Why, curiosity is your greatest flaw of all. You humans always want to know more, and I know that you want to know what I do next, whether you’re aware of it or not.”

You felt like your blood was going to tear right out of your veins. You hated how right he was, how well he seemed to know you. “You’re insane,” you said.

His smile was lazy and wide as he took a single step toward you. “Probably. But I’ve been alive for ages now, and you might be the most fun thing I’ve seen in millennia. I want to know your name, pet.”

This was crazy in every sense of the word. Any other demon wouldn’t even dare utter their true name aloud, even to themselves, yet here Dream was, bargaining his for yours.

You’d be an idiot not to tell him your name, now.

Swallowing, you didn’t dare look away from his piercing eyes. “It—my name is [Y/N].”

His lips parted in awe, and he stepped toward you once more. “[Y/N],” he repeated, slowly. Carefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Fascinating name. Haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime, shocking as it may be.” He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn his smile looked different. “It’s pretty.”

A rush of heat went shooting down your spine, your stomach doing a flip. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glared at him. “Well, stop dawdling! What’s your real name, Dream?”

For a long, excruciatingly slow minute, he only stared at you, scanning every inch of your face. You could feel anxiety begin to crawl up your throat as he did nothing more than watch the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

All of a sudden, he was standing in front of you, his hand tucked underneath your chin and lifting it upward. You barely had the chance to gasp before you felt a soft warmth pressing against your lips, light as a feather and tasting like ash and smoke.

Before you could even register what had just happened, he was gone.

You whirled, your face growing astronomically hot. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You raised your hand to touch your lips while your cheeks burned furiously.

Did he just... kiss me?

Just then, a whisper ran along the shell of your ear, so soft that you almost missed it.

“My name is Clay.”

[http-lovelyknow]

Infuriating -Johnny Suh Pt2

Hello! The long awaited Infuriating pt2 is here!! 

Thank you to everyone for requesting a part 2 and I’m sorry it took me so long😅

Part 1 Here

And I want to give a special thank you to @flowerboykun for proofreading this and making this incredible banner for me I appreciate you so much!

And big thank you to @se-onghwa for proofreading and all the words of support! 

This is part 2 to the Infuriating I posted on my old blog @we-are-luxury-and-treasure hope you like it!

TW NSFW - Dom(softish) Johnny, Sub(reader) but those are the only TW I think? Sorry if I missed anything

Word count -  3,195

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To say that Johnny was stalking you would be an overstatement, it was more like haunting.

Ever since you snapped at him a couple of weeks ago you feel like he’s just been. . . watching you. He’s always just somewhere around the corner and you start to feel like prey. His dark amber eyes seem to follow you everywhere and record your every move.

You often recall his threat of “Next time you’ll be punished, so please behave.” At the worst times it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

Today is no different, except instead of shivering alone in the safety of your house away from Johnny, you're thinking of his threat right in front of him like the idiot you are.

Currently trying not to sweat, you're applying makeup to his face for an interview they have, and while the boys behave better, Johnny is still acting up and pushing your buttons just not in the same way. Now he does things like, winking at you, putting his hand on your back to move past even if he didn't need to, leaning too close to whisper something to you, etc, etc but today he’s actually been well mannered.

You lightly hum to yourself as you carefully place eyeshadow onto Johnny's eyelids, his calm breathing is slightly suspicious, he never sits still, but you’ll take what you can get.

The lively sounds of the boys roughhousing behind you fill the room while you stand between Johnny's knees to get every detail right. You shift your weight to one side, you lean over, and grab a clean brush on the table behind his shoulder. 

Mark then decided this would be a perfect time to stumble back, knocking you into Johnny which wouldn’t have been so bad had Johnny not immediately gripped the back of your thighs much tighter than was necessary, effectively holding you against him.

A small yip escapes you when you make contact and you quickly try to scan his face to see if there was a mistake in his makeup due to you being pushed, when you find none you look up and notice Johnny staring at you. 

His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips a couple of times before he takes in a shaky breath and you realize you're still on top of him.

You feel the burn of embarrassment through your spine to the pit of your stomach and try to move away.

He flexes his fingers for a second demanding you meet his gaze one more time.

And you swear to god the spark his amber eyes ignite is enough to set your every nerve on fire.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds, Mark is already pulling you up and off of Johnny and starts spilling apologies through his laughter.

 You brush him off as well as yourself with a soft “no harm done” and everyone went about their business, but Johnny suddenly seemed. . . off

So here you are, waiting behind the camera of the well-lit studio trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Johnny, he keeps avoiding eye contact and shifting around in his seat. 

The lights have caused a slight sheen of sweat to appear on your skin, and just as you go to wipe your brow you finally notice what made Johnny so uncomfortable.

The poor man has a boner.

And there's nothing he can do about it.

The situation is almost laughable until you happen to catch his eye and he sees you smirking. 

You’ve never seen such a livid fire in someone’s eyes.

I’m absolutely and royally fucked.

The interview ended much too quickly in your opinion, you’re all ushered into the ‘backstage’ area.

As you’re gently wiping the makeup off Yuta’s face a very impatient Johnny hovers close by you. 

Everyone packs up and leaves, you remain in the semi-lit room gathering all the little tools and brushes.

Hearing footsteps approach, your heart drops, you know exactly who it is, and how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you happen to remember what was said the last time we spoke?” He’s behind you, “Cause I remember a very clear warning was given to you.” Too afraid to turn around, you remain with feet frozen and gently lift your head to catch his reflection in the mirror. Big mistake.

It never ceases to amaze you just how intimidating the usually sweet but large man is, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

Like he’s a hunter who has fatally cornered his prey, you.

A hot chill shoots through your body as you watch him approach your backside, trying to steady yourself as you grip the makeup table in front of you when he's finally close enough to touch you.

“You think you’re so slick don’t you?” Oh shit, he knows

He smirks as he continues with a taunting cadence in his voice “Think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting? Always standing closer to me than you do the others when you do our make up, always leaning further into me,” He presses himself against you pushing you roughly into the table with his own causing a sharp pain in your hip bones as he leans in closer dropping his tone “Wearing clothes that show just a little more skin, wearing a hint more perfume than normal. . . you really think you’d get away with that shit going unnoticed?”

And that’s just the thing, you wanted him to catch you. 

His hands have begun to wander up to your hips and sides, tracing your shoulders, left hand going back to your waist as the other wraps itself into your hair tugging your head to the side, you make eye contact in the mirror and holy shit does he look delicious. He’s in a white shirt and jeans leftover from the interview, bare face and hair tousled.

And he’s looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

You’re all but gasping for breath at this point, he’s literally knocked the wind from your lungs. 

And that’s when a scary thought strikes you. . . he’s hardly even touched you yet.

“Now tell me, pretty baby, did I not give you a very clear warning about what would happen if you didn't behave?”

Unable to nod with his hand holding your hair you whimper out a weak yes.

“And what did you do today that caused you this situation?”

He punctuates the last word with a knee coming in between your legs from behind, the action makes all the words you’ve ever learned flee from your brain.

“You should know better than to ignore me. . . but I’ll make it real clear for you just this once” He lets go of your hair and begins to roam with his fingertips, surprisingly gentle

“You left me painfully hard right before the interview.”

Fingers gripping your wrists he brings your hand back to start feeling his toned waist through the soft material of his shirt

“You just had to walk in looking like that today...had to let Mark push you right into me. . . just had to leave me hanging like nothing happened”

His teasing tone is too much, you have to keep stopping yourself from making any noise to not embarrass yourself.

He must notice your attempts at the silence and all it does is piss him off.

“Oh absolutely not baby, let me hear you.” 

His hands release yours and one goes to your thigh while the other slips under your shirt caressing your stomach a little more firm than his touch was before, cold rings on his fingers cause a chill to run through you leaving goosebumps behind

He’s being assertive and maybe a little aggressive but you know if you told him to stop he would. He knows you want this as bad as he does, if not even a little more. You had been teasing him after all, you wanted to push all his buttons until he snapped.

“I’m a man of my word baby. It’s time for you to be put in your place and learn who’s boss.”

You begin to push back against his hips with your own, feeling the bulge starting in his pants is driving you wild, you want so bad to run your mouth and get smart with him, but his hands on your bare skin feel so damn good you can’t bring yourself to say anything, not trusting your voice to not come out as a whine.

“What did I say about letting me hear you, baby?”

He grips the thigh he’s holding tightly and finally starts to slip his hand under your bra giving you some relief from your ever-growing frustrations.

He begins to toy with your nipple and knead your breast while his other hand travels closer to where you need him most.

The action causes you to finally let out a soft but deep moan, you reach back and grip his hair while your eyes close, head falling back onto his toned chest

“Oh god. . . that’s it baby, loosen up a bit” He encourages your sounds with a harder grip on your breast and contact with the point between your legs.

He begins to rub you through your pants, the sounds spilling from your lips become more frequent 

“Finally behaving and giving me what I want. . . Now be a good girl and tell me what it is you want from me huh?”

It takes all your willpower to reign yourself back in and attempt to speak despite him torturing you through your clothes like this.

You open your eyes and take in the sight of the two of you in the mirror. His hair is still being gripped by you, his eyes are on fire and he looks like it’s taking everything in him to hold back in case you change your mind.

But you finally have Johnny Suh with his hand up your shirt and down your pants offering you the night of your life, no way in hell you’re gonna tell him no.

You look back up into his eyes in the mirror while gripping his hair and wrist tighter

You challenge him with the most sultry tone you can muster “Johnny, I want you to ruin me, and show me who’s really in charge”

You can see in his eyes the exact moment he snaps while you speak, pupils blowing out and grip almost bruising he spins you around to face him.

He grips your jaw the way he did after you yelled at him, except instead of scolding you like he did then, he’s pressing his lips onto yours.

Moaning into his mouth you strain onto your tippy toes to match his ridiculous height, without much luck but neither of you was focusing on that at the moment.

He lifts you by the back of your thighs onto the makeup table, bringing a hand up to your chin again he tugs your jaw open to slip his tongue inside to run against your own.

And you’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, you vocalize this to him with another rather loud moan.

He leans back and you whine at the loss of contact as his long fingers find the bottom of your shirt.

“God baby you keep making noises like that and I can’t promise to control myself. . .”

He goes back in for another kiss as his hands make their way up your shirt again much to your relief.  

“Then don’t. . .” The words are mumbled into Johnny’s mouth but he hears them nonetheless. 

He lets out a rather dark chuckle at your attitude.

“Oh baby, you have some manners to learn” With that, he cocks his hand back and lands a loud but rather pain-free smack to the part of your thigh exposed by your high waisted shorts causing the muscles to clench on contact at the warning and a noise you didn’t know you could make left your mouth much to his delight. 

He smooths over the afflicted skin with his large palms while whispering sweet sweet praises into your ear. Johnny gently lifts your shirt over your head, he begins trailing hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone and goddamn does it make you wet.

You can feel yourself get hotter the farther down his mouth travels and you feel like if he doesn’t quit teasing you with his lips and fingertips you're gonna explode

And this is when the whining starts “Johnny. . . please do something I’m gonna die” you curl your fingers back into his hair when he laughs at how desperate you sound.

“I love the way you sound when you whine my name baby.”

“I mean it, Johnny, I'm gonna die please do something, please” your begging seems to have done the trick cause now Johnny is on his knees in front of you still looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

“Lift your hips”

That definitely wasn’t a request and you are more than willing to comply. He slips your shorts down your legs (you barely register not knowing when he unbuttoned them) along with your now-soaked underwear, your thick scent sticking in the air.

He groans at the smell of your arousal and the sight of your soaked heat “Oh fuck baby look at you. . .” using both hands he spreads your legs farther causing your lips to part “Can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner”

And with that, he dives right into biting at your soft thighs causing the sweetest sound he’d ever heard to fall from your pretty lips and he knows he’s already addicted.

“Are you ready sweet baby?” You nod.

He slaps your thigh again but harder this time leaving a full outline of his long slender hand “Use your words, baby, be a good girl and answer me properly yeah?”

“Yes Johnny, yes I’m ready, please, please I’m ready” Not your most eloquent of sentences but it satisfies him to hear your smart mouth not be so smart anymore.

“Good girl. . .” That causes a shiver to run down your whole body “Aw does my baby like being told how good she is?” 

You start to nod but remember that he wants words

“Yes dear god I love it. . .” you're honestly on the verge of tears by now, he’s been so close yet so far this whole time “Good girls get rewards, so behave.” He finally leans forward and delivers a soft lick to your sensitive clit and you don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loud in your whole life, you’ve been driven shameless by him and his mouth.

His hands hold your legs open as he works over you with his mouth, tongue applying just the right amount of friction and pressure to start pushing you to climax.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer and it does nothing but boost his ego and drive him crazy, he’s so hard and trapped by his pants but he couldn’t care less when he finally has you on his tongue after months of secret pining and he isn’t gonna throw this chance away. 

He wants to make sure you keep coming back again, and again, and maybe even agree to be his.. But you’ll have that talk later, right now your fingernails are grazing his scalp making him groan into you, sending vibrations up your core.

Waves of white-hot electricity crash over your body, thighs trembling and tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Johnny is by far the most talented man you’ve had between your legs and you're already almost about to cum, it’s so fast you’re almost embarrassed but you know that he’s doing it on purpose, proving a point to you about how you’ll now be ruined for anyone else. No one will be as good as him and you both know it.

You’re begging him to keep going but he takes it one step further by easing a slender finger into your beyond slick heat. 

“Ahhh fuck. . .” He looks up at you and the sight mixed with his tongue and fingers almost does you in right there. 

“Fuck Johnny, I’m so so close please, more please”

It’s official, he’s reduced you to nothing more than a begging, sobbing, mess.

He smirks into you while adding a third finger with the others,

“Johnnyyy” 

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow

“Can I please, please cum? I can’t hold it anymore please”

You weren’t sure why you were asking, it just seemed like something you should do.

And you were right.

“Since you asked so nicely” He picked up the pace in all the right ways that had you falling apart right there on top of the makeup table.

You tried to stay as quiet as possible but he made that very challenging, his fingers and tongue worked you through your high in the most perfect way possible, firm but not too much to make you overly sensitive, but he knew exactly what to do to make it last as long as possible.

You're a panting sweaty mess when he stands up

“Open” remembering what he said about good girls getting rewards you immediately obey, wanting to make him pleased with you.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and you make a point to look directly into his eyes while you clean them with your mouth, leaving little to the imagination about what you'd be doing if it wasn't his fingers..

“Fuck baby..” He groans at the sight and feeling of you “Let's get out of here yeah?” He takes a half step back and wipes his hand on his jeans,

He picks up your shirt and hands it to you. You nod and slip the light fabric over your head. 

Johnny gently lifts your chin to look at him and you aren't fully prepared for the softness in his eyes “You did so good baby, such a fast learner” Warmth spreads through you at this praise and you can't help but smile. 

You gently slip off the table onto shaky legs and go to fix your shorts when Johnny does it for you, you mumble a soft thank you, still unsure of your voice and the state it's in.

Then he surprises you again by pulling you into a hug, it's comforting but firm. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and holds your head to his chest and strokes your hair with the other. You’re quick to hold him back, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the improvised aftercare.

“Wanna head back to my place?” You feel his chest softly rumble as he lets out a sweet laugh knowing the other option is the dorm “I’d love to” 

He helps you pack up your things while making pleasant small talk, knowing a more serious conversation and more fun would be had once you get home.

You could both tell this was gonna be the start of something you both would quite enjoy.

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Thank you for reading! 

Taglist - @flowerboykun @se-onghwa