#their name is sort of a hint as to their whole shebang

[cartilagecruncher]

One day you guys will learn who and what Alloy is in the lore and I'll be giggling my ass off and kicking my feet Same with Virit!!! but you guys have technically already met them both and that's hilarious

[oh-goddess-of-chaos]

⠀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 – 𝐣. 𝐝. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 」 yandere!jason dean 𝒙 female!reader

「 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 」 being the new girl at a school can be difficult, especially during the middle of the year and in a place with a rigid social structure such as westerburg high, but things can only seem to worsen when you start feeling as though you're being watched.

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 general themes from heathers the movie such as bullying, mentions of suicide, murder (c'mon, it's a heathers fic, what did u expect?), usage of guns, kissing, stalking, attempted rape (kurt n' ram), swearing , usage of drugs such as cigarettes, unconsensual kissing (doesn't get further than that in this), very slight insinuations to sex (spoken), the whole shebang.

「 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 」 4.5k

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ (slight spoilers) i wanted to make the reader decently perceptive and sarcastic this one, but nearing the end i definitely made her rationality kinda disappear since that's what fear can do to a person. jd is more based off movie jd, and so is veronica.

Joining a new school midway through the school year was, to say the least, unideal.

You and your parents had just gotten the wonderful opportunity to move to the quaint town of Sherwood, Ohio, somewhere you all were essentially forced to go since your father had been promoted by his job and your family was strapped for cash. And, sure, your house was bigger and nicer than your last, but you'd had to leave all your friends you'd been with since your childhood, which was difficult.

To add to all of that, the people were unfriendly and rude, and the weather was tolerable at best. Though your old home wasn't perfect by any means, it was most certainly better than where you were living now.

And now, here you were, standing before your new high school, knowing perfectly nothing about it or what to expect yet still expecting it to be one of the worst schools you've gone to. The odd stares your fellow students were shooting you seemed to be indicative of that.

Oh, good grief.

You sighed as you entered, only to immediately crinkle your nose in disgust as you were hit with the pleasant aroma of sweaty jocks and what you could only guess were something akin to rotting bodies. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you were almost hit by what you guessed were two football players dashing down the hallways.

This was going to be a long rest of the year.

You were quick to shove past the students to get to the front office, keen on getting your class schedule and getting to your class as early as you could. You'd only just gotten here and yet already you wanted to go home, though you supposed that that was how high school normally operated. It was never something anyone particularly enjoyed. Most people just managed to tolerate it enough to attend the next day.

"Hello, I'm looking to get my schedule?" You said once you'd reached your destination, crossing your arms as you stared at the woman at the front desk. Focused upon her own work, she offered you no response. You pursed your lips.

"Excuse me?" You spoke, louder this time, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

Apparently you weren't the only one unhappy to be at Westerburg high today, as the woman, seemingly irked, slowly craned her head to face you. "Yes?"

She seemed an unpleasant sort of woman, a frown etched permanently upon her wrinkled face. You wondered what the other teachers must look like, and if they resembled her by any means.

"This is my first day here. I need my class schedule."

"Name?"

"Y/n L/n."

The woman nodded and typed something into her computer. She then pointed to the printer. "Wait over there. Your class schedule is printing right now. Once it's finished, just go to your first class. The class numbers are listed on the right side."

"Well, is anyone going the help me find my way around?"

Your question was only met with silence. "Fine, I'll find it on my own. After all, why would I ever need the help of a teacher, anyway? It's not like I'm new to this school or anything." You grumbled before grabbing your schedule and exiting.

Luckily, navigating the school was a relatively simple task. The numbers on every door and the maps plastered on the walls definitely helped, and you were able to find your history class before the bell rang.

"Here's your textbook, Ms. L/n." The teacher said to you the moment you told her your name. Silently, you nodded, deciding to take a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom as you waited for class to begin.

Something seemed off, though, as the lecture began and you jotted down nearly everything you heard. You could sense eyes boring into the back of your skull, like daggers piercing through your mind, and it inhibited your focus. You could hardly pay any attention to the teacher as she went on and on about some war you didn't even know the name of. And so, discreetly enough, you 'grabbed' something from you bag, staring over your shoulder briefly in an attempt to see if anyone really was watching you.

And, as it seemed, someone was. You managed to spot them - or him, to be more specific. Uncannily dark eyes stared back at you, blank and hollow. It made your stomach sink. Quickly, then, you retrieved an object from your school bag and continued with your notes to the best of your abilities. Unfortunately, though, you couldn't get that kid's sharp gaze out of your mind. Something about it - something about him - was off, though you couldn't quite place what it was. And, sure, from what you could see he dressed somewhat oddly - a dark trench coat adorning his shoulders, covering his already black pants and shirt - but it was more than just the way he was dressed. You knew it.

You gave up on the matter minutes after you were done with US History. As much as you were curious at the time, you could care less if some creep was watching you. It wasn't like you didn't have your fair share of those back at your old school - you just supposed that they didn't seem so outward about it. After all, you'd stared at that kid - caught him right in the act, but he didn't look away, didn't flinch, just kept staring. Looking back on it, you were convinced that you'd caught the glimpse of some sort of smile. But, as you'd mentioned, what was done was done. You'd only have to deal with him for 45 minutes every day for the rest for the year, at worst.

Sighing, you dropped your bag beside you as you sat down on one of the sticky cafeteria benches, secluded from everyone else. Although you knew you could've tried to make friends during your classes, you were aware of the truth about social politics in high school: halfway through the year, friendships were already sealed airtight and people were much less open to saying 'hi' to a new face, so you didn't even bother. And, sure, the seating was horrible, but you weren't about to make a fool of yourself, especially on your first day.

The food at Westerburg High was - albeit surprisingly - quite alright, and you found yourself somewhat enjoying it. Disregarding the horrible smell and the violently loud chatter, you supposed the cafeteria and lunch as a whole was okay.

That was, at least, until you caught sight of that kid who'd been staring at you in history. You hadn't even noticed he was there at first, but there he was, halfway across the cafeteria, staring blatantly right at you. This time, though, he was just smiling - smirking, even, and it unnerved you.

What is wrong with this guy?

The rest of the week went by like this. On your way to class, you'd always see him in the halls, eyes locking with yours as you passed him. Or getting your books from your locker - he'd always be there, eyes glued to your form. He wasn't even doing anything, was simply fixated on you. It made you shiver, the looks he gave you at first.

Now, however, it was almost expected. You'd anticipate dark eyes boring into your skull and the fumes of cigars to follow you in class, or truly just anywhere around school, just as you would expect your shadow to follow you in the sunlight. And, as annoying as it was the every first day, now it was eerie. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know you were being watched, but when you did, you'd surely freeze out of both paranoia and fear. While, yes, you'd expected this year of high school to be your worst yet, never had you expected for it to be to such an extent.

Your fear later festered when he pulled a blank on two jocks in the cafeteria. Although you knew blanks couldn't truly hurt them, you shuddered to think what he'd do if he really wanted to cause some damage.

Things got worse still when the kid started dating the infamous Veronica Sawyer, not quite a Heather but not quite anything else either. Gossip around the school grew mad about the unconventional couple, and you soon learned the name of the kid who never did seem to leave you alone: Jason Dean, or 'J. D.' as everyone knew him.

Now, whenever you'd see J. D., he'd always be accompanied by his girlfriend, Veronica. He never did stop staring, though, resulting in numerous glares coming from Veronica's way.

So much for being tolerated by the popular crowd.

School had then became a living hell for you, because if one Heather didn't like you, none of them did, making life going unnoticed near impossible. Now, no matter where you were, someone was either glaring or gazing at you, their intentions vague and unclear.

Things then got particularly bad when Heather Chandler became a sort of enemy of yours. You weren't sure what you did to irk specifically her, but, whatever it was that you did, she most certainly hated you, more so than Veronica, even. Not a day went by without a rude confrontation by her, and you could name several instances when she'd embarrassed you in front of the school.

But then, one day, she was gone.

Suicide. At least, that's what they said it was, but you knew too many people hated that bitch for it to be so. All it would take was a teenager driven insane enough by her to be driven to such a point, and considering the state of Westerburg high, you didn't doubt for a moment that the queen bee of the school essentially prompted her own death.

So, yeah. You knew her suicide was faked. Not that you were going to report it to the cops - you weren't planning on stirring up more drama - but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by such a thing. And, besides, though you'd never admit it aloud, you were glad she was dead, in an odd way. Now you had at least one less person to make your life at this sorry school miserable.

So, life was okay for a while. People got too busy about mourning Heather's death to notice a nobody like you. Other than that creep J. D. and his jealous girlfriend stalking the halls, life was tolerable.

But when you're at the top, the only way you can go is down. And that's where you went. Down. All the way to rock bottom.

You didn't know how to put it in lighter terms, so here it was: You were almost raped. By Kurt and Ram, to be more exact.

Apparently, J. D. wasn't the only one who had an eye on you, and with all your attention focused on him (since you were so damn paranoid) you'd failed to notice the two jocks that also seemed to have been interested by you.

It was late at night. You were walking home from some house you'd babysat at as a favor, and two guys started following you. You didn't think much of it at first - just tried to forget about it and cool your nerves, but then they started to get faster, and faster, and you did too, until suddenly you were running, and then, almost abruptly, the two jocks had grabbed your arms and startled forcing you elsewhere. You screamed and fought, but no one was around to hear you.

You could only imagine the other 'nobodies' they must have done this to.

You remembered vividly your horror as the two piled themselves on top of you, eager to rip your clothes off. But, just as they were about to do so, a gun shot rang out, and then another. Frozen in terror, you didn't even move as you felt the boys' bodies go limp over you. You were only able to move when you felt a hand grab onto your own and force you up and get you back on your feet.

"Thank you," you barely managed to sputter out once the initial shock wore off.

"Go," is all the figure replied. A man, you presumed. You couldn't see his face, though, covered by the dark lighting. And so, dazed and confused, you obliged, not thinking twice about the words spoken to you.

The next day, though, was when things truly got out of hand.

Kurt and Ram, supposedly, had died in some gay love pact, wherein they killed each other. Hearing the news over the TV your parents played, you felt sick to your stomach. But, there they lied on the screen, a bag of supposed 'homosexual artifacts' and a suicide note to tie it all together.

And the whole town ate the story up.

You didn't go to school for about the next week or so. You told your parents that you were sick, and even though they knew you weren't, they still called in sick for you, able to detect that you weren't exactly feeling well mentally.

The week of repose was good, too. You were able to gather yourself up, not to the point where you didn't fear what could have happen had your savior not came to the rescue, but to the point where you could suppose that you were grateful that you wouldn't have to answer any questions from the police.

But now, at least for now, you knew you'd be safe.

* * *

You let out a soft sigh as you landed on your bed, curling into your warm sheets as a way of seeking comfort. At least you were safe and secure at home, you supposed, your parents only a relatively quiet yell away and your windows locked for good measure. If school was your hell, then you would consider home your heaven, away from the Heathers, away from J. D., away from everyone.

Turning off your light, you sank into your pillow in a desperate sort of way, clinging to it as if it were your lifeline. You'd hardly been getting sufficient sleep within the past weeks, so it didn't take long for you to fall into oblivion, the abyss of sleep consuming you whole in minutes.

So deeply unaware of your surrounding now, you didn't even hear quiet footsteps entering your bedroom.

J. D. was, to say the least, unsure what made him drawn to you in the first place. Maybe it was your calm and uncaring demeanor, or maybe it was the way you seemed to pick up on things through simple observation so easily, similarly to him. Whatever it was, he most certainly found you interesting. And, somehow, he could simply tell that there was something different about you - something like him that he saw in you, and it intrigued him to no end.

No matter how paranoid you were, you were never completely aware of J. D.'s reach in your life. When he'd watch you when you were at home, he'd remain particularly clever, knowing that if he was caught there was a high chance that he'd get into some really deep shit. Staring at a girl in school every day was one thing, but following her home? That was much more serious, and required a much less conspicuous plan.

But, alas, his plan paid off, and J. D. smiled knowingly as he stared at your vulnerable figure, taken over by a much needed sleep. You simply looked so perfectly innocent like that, something he couldn't wait to ruin once he had the chance.

J. D. laughed euphorically as he continued to just stare at you, unsure if he still had his wits about him but uncaring at the very same time. Perhaps all the cigars he had been smoking really were getting to him. But he knew what he needed to do before he brought you with him. So, quietly, resisting the urge to kiss your pristine lips, J. D. raced out of your bedroom, your door that was previously shut left open behind him.

Unfortunately for him, however, he'd forgotten that you were often a light sleeper that woke up at different intervals in the night, so when a particularly cool gust of wind came in through your open window, you were startled awake.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath as you drowsily peeled your eyes open, squinting them as you stood up to close the window, before pausing and wondering how on earth your window had opened. After all, your parents never came into your room late at night as far as you were concerned, and you had locked your window when you'd fallen asleep, so how could it have opened?

It was at that very moment, too, that the faint smell of smoke wafted through the room, and you froze.

Sure, you knew you were paranoid, and that maybe fear had gotten the better of you, but you also knew that a potentially dangerous kid had been staring at you ever since you got to school and that it would be idiotic for you to assume that he had no malicious intentions.

Your stomach then tightened up once you noticed your open bedroom door. So, yes. It was possible that maybe your assumptions were idiotic, but you'd be a fool to not go with your gut when the most it'd cost you was some short-lived embarrassment, especially considering what could have happened with Kurt and Ram. So, quietly, you exited your bedroom, looking down the hallways of the upstairs floor as to reassure that the coast was clear.

It was.

More silently than you've ever done so before, then, you tip-toed to your parents bedroom, hoping to either alert them of an intruder or ask them what the were doing. But, just as you were about to open their door, footsteps were heard on the other side - not your mother's quiet, considerate ones, nor your father's loud, heavy ones, but a different kind.

Fuck.

As fast as you could, you dashed into the nearest room, leaving the door only just barely open as to not allow it to make any sound. From your parent's room exited a dark silhouette, wearing what you guessed was a trench coat and with only the burning edge of a cigarette as a light source plucked between two fingers.

You were right. You were fucking right. No other than Jason Dean was in your house, and right now, he was heading right for your bedroom, most likely intending to kill.

You needed to think fast.

My parents - right, my parents. They keep a gun in their bedroom.

You were shaking. Yes, your parents showed you were they kept the gun in the case of an emergency, but you'd never been taught how to use it.

As quietly as you could, you dashed over to your parents bedroom, closing the door behind you. And, even though you knew you didn't have the time, you took a moment to catch your breath. God, you couldn't breathe. And neither could your parents, as it seemed, when you looked over at their limp corpses sprawled in the bed. Slowly, you retracted the covers from their bodies, only to find a wet pool of blood that lay beneath them and their slit throats.

They were dead. J. D. had fucking killed your parents. You felt your knees buckle underneath you as you caressed your mother's lifeless face, her eyes never to once again open.

"Mom..." You whimpered, not caring if her blood stained your fingers. But then, you paused, realizing that, if you didn't speed up, you could be next.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I really need to find a weapon or a way out of here. I only have so much time before he finds me.

You suppressed a scream as you then scoured their bedroom in search of the gun safe, not keen on wasting any more time, but to your dismay, you couldn't find it.

They must have moved it from last year - fuck! - what else could they have?

Your eyes then landed on your father's esteemed baseball bat. You'd remember him talking about it, the pride radiating from him as he explained how it was the first bat he used to hit a home run with in high school.

Well, sorry dad.

Picking up what was now a weapon and placing it in such a way that would allow you to swing at a moment's notice, you slowly sauntered out of your parent's bedroom and into the hallway.

Your blood ran colder and colder as you approached your bedroom door, until, finally, you did, and raised the baseball bat even higher as to deliver the hardest blow on the boy that stood before you.

"You know, it would have probably been better if you'd stayed hiding," you then heard J. D. speak, turning around and raising an eyebrow at the bat in you hands. "You know, that isn't going to do much against a gun."

Time seemed to stop, and all you could stare at was the gun that sat loosely in J. D.'s hand. He was going to fucking kill you.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to use it on you," he then reassured coyly, as if reading your mind. "It's just a necessary... precaution. Now, why don't place the bat down so we can talk."

"I could scream."

J. D. seemed to smile at this and clicked his tongue, as if scolding you. "Now, would you really like to have someone else's blood on your hands like that? Just because I'm not going to shoot you doesn't mean I won't shoot anyone else. It'd be a shame if anyone had to die because of you."

Silence.

"Good, now... place the bat down."

Nodding, you complied, slowly placing your only means of defence on the ground.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, trying to calm your racing heart down. Though you doubted it, you supposed that there was a chance that, if you could calm down enough, you could convince J. D. to leave you alive.

J. D. grinned. "Now, darling, why don't you come right here."

If you could've moved, you most certainly would've. After all, you'd seen that gun in J. D.'s hand. You knew what it could do. But you were frozen by fear, and no amount of rationality was going to move you.

"Now, this would all be, uh, a lot easier if you'd just come with me, because I'd hate to have to man-handle - " J. D.'s words cut short as he watched you, nearly stunned, as you bolted past him and towards the window. But he was quick to recoup his bearings, cocking the gun (for good measure) and grab onto your leg, successfully dragging you towards the ground. You grunted in pain upon your head slamming against the hardwood floor, the beginnings of a bruise already starting to appear.

Now only partially unconscious, it took you a long while to notice the tongue now prying apart your mouth and the chapped lips pressed against your own. You'd only really noticed when you realized that you couldn't breathe, and you let out a strangled groan as you tried to detach yourself from the figure above you, but to no avail. J. D. merely slid his tongue deeper down your throat, inhibiting you from screaming or making any other noise as he kissed you roughly.

You thrashed and flailed under his touch, but nothing was enough to free yourself from him. He was faster, stronger, and had the firearm in this situation. You stood no chance. So, with a heavy heart, you moved pliantly underneath J. D.'s touch, hoping he'd at least go a little easier on you at the very least.

And then, with bated breath, you observed as he stopped, and, hovering above you, took something out of his pocket. At first, fearing it was a gun, you began to once again fight against him, but then paused upon not recognizing the silhouette of the object in his hand.

"You know, as much as I'd like to continue this, I did come here for a reason." J. D. stared at you, no ounce of sympathy as he spoke his next words. "You know, it'd have been a hell of a lot easier if you'd just fucking stayed asleep."

Without so much as a moment to respond, a wet rag was forced upon your face. Confused at first, you lied still, before realizing what it must have been drenched it. You were now even more urgent in your fighting of J. D. (if that was even possible), punching and kicking him wherever you could. But he didn't budge, simply kept a firm grip on the rag.

"Shhh, it's fine, I won't hurt ya," he reassured, "Not unless I need to, of course."

But you didn't hear him, your consciousness already slipping as you'd only been half conscious before. You were trying to kick free, but already you were so exhausted, your adrenaline already beginning to ware off. Worse still, J. D.'s words of reassurance that you'd be fine and that everything will be alright were starting to mess with you.

You could hear him talking, but the words were muffled and blurred, and your body seemed to take everything in as if it were truth, because it was already relaxing under his cool touch. And it seemed that, the more fearful your mind grew, the more numb your body became, until, finally, you gave up your thrashing and your fighting, and sunk into J. D. harsh embrace willingly.

Upon your figure going limp, a devilish grin spread across J. D.'s face. Though he knew this was not how things were meant to occur, he was simply so happy - for he finally had you in his arms, where you belonged. And then, unable to help himself, he pressed a hungry kiss on your mouth, pleased to hear a muffled moan escape it as your tongue moved submissively under his own.

This was it! Finally - finally, after waiting for so long, you belonged to him. No more were the days when he'd have to watch you through your bedroom window, or the days where all he'd see of you were your paranoid eyes in the hallways, because, finally, here you were, in his arms, where you belonged!

Here you were at last, finally.

Finally, you were his and only his.

© do not translate, steal, or repost any of my works elsewhere without consulting me and gaining my consent.

[khazadspoon]

mgs, love me in the shadows

Oooh okay that would fit one I’ve had in my head a while now. I’d want it to be a beast, 10k+, at least 3 chapters, rated explicit/NC-17 for sexual content and canon typical violence. Im talking CQC, aftermath of torture, PTSD exploration, hate sex, lovey dovey sex, threesomes, flashbacks to Peace Walker, revenge every direction you look, The Boss’ Will being misinterpreted. The whole shebang.

The premise sitting in my head is that after waking up from the 9 year coma, Big Boss doesn’t just wander off to make Outer Heaven by himself. He follows Ocelot and Ahab onto the tanker, off Cyprus and out to Afghanistan. At some point he reveals himself to Venom and it’s completely against the plan Ocelot had set up but fuck it, Big Boss does what Big Boss wants.

Anyway. They get to Afghanistan and Venom sets out to rescue Miller, secretly switching with Big Boss at some point because there’s no way he’s leaving someone else to rescue Kaz when he is right there. Venom covers him. It’s very soft and heartbreaking just like in the game. At this point it’s just him and Ahab who know so it’s a bit precarious but they manage because of course they do it’s my sandbox I’ll make the castle stand.

Then I see it sort of following the canon events in mgsv but with two big bosses hanging about and getting things in a mess outside of Cipher’s plan and Ocelot’s plan and Skull Face gets to give his big car speech to the person it was intended for. At some point they reveal it’s Big Boss and a double instead of just one Big Boss. Ocelot is not pleased because John is putting himself in danger. Kaz wants to know what the fuck any of them were thinking. Venom just wants to get on with his life please this is uncomfortable. Quiet has no idea what to do with this information yet. The Diamond Dogs are that meme of the kid with two hotdogs.

The Man On Fire does almost kill Big Boss because it’s really him and that is nearly the end of things but V steps in just in time. Eli still fucks off with Sahelanthropus (I cannot spell that please don’t make me try again), Huey is still Huey and there’s a lot to deal with post-MSF in terms of relationships being rattled.

Pairings would include BBKaz (a given for me), BBVenom, VKaz, BBVKaz, I’d like some VQuiet in there too and I guess hints of Bosselot or Vosselot (is that a ship name???). Basically everyone is confused about who should love who so it becomes a mishmash until I say so.

And that’s that. In my dreams it’s my magnum opus.

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[analviel]

BAD BAT: an old thing I found in one of my notes, just wanted to share, not gonna continue it at all, I have no idea what I had planned for it.

Tim needed to do something.

Anything.

Anything but sit in front of the Bat-computer, staring.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something. Now.

But he couldn't because blood was rushing in his ears and his mind was sluggish, a desperate attempt to protect himself as his world crashed around him not for the first time.

This time, he didn't, wouldn't, have Batman beside him.

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Tim stared and stared and stared and all the evidence stared back.

The face of Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake stared back.

Robin stared back.

And of course Tim's mind had already made the connection, had already completed the picture, had already matched it to reality and filled in the blank spaces he hadn't even been aware was there.

Oh, god.

Combined with his sickness that had him benched for the night and the sudden, shocking, knowledge that Batman had killed his parents, had killed Robin's parents, Tim staggered to his feet and off his seat, socks slipping on the cool cave floors as he stumbled towards the nearest bin and upended his dinner. And lunch and breakfast and the other dinner until he was left dry heaving and crying in the Batcave over the stink of his vomit.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something.

Tim needed to start thinking of what to do.

The action was easy, instinct, trained. Retrieving one of his Robin storage from his jacket, Tim scrambled back to the computer to fumble with sticking it in, copying the entire file and all the incriminating evidence.

Methodically, he returned it back to its previous encryption, erased the backdoor he made, and burned every hint that he'd even come anywhere close to the file. So very, very aware of the chill of the cave, cold fingers digging in his inside, and senses peaked for any presence in the cold, cold cavern.

Now what?

Tim stared at the black of the screen of the Bat-computer and missed the light.

Shock, he distantly thought. He was in shock.

Robin- Tim stared down at the gold chip in his hand. So tiny. So harmless. And now it contained everything that could make or break.... a lot of things. A lot of people.

Oh god. Where was he going to go?

Oh, god.

Did he want to go?

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Bruce is Tim's father. The only father he's left.

And-

And maybe he's wrong.

(Denial.)

Maybe someone was trying to frame Batman. To turn his own family against him and what kind of son was Tim if he let himself be fooled so easily.

This couldn't....

This couldn't be right.

Tim took a shaky inhale.

Shook his head.

But if it was right then his current train of thought was all wrong.

Tim....

Tim was always left with the hard decisions wasn't he?

This wouldn't be the first time and he had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last.

So with an exhale, Tim yanked himself into the backseat of his mind and let training and objectivity slide in the slot of the driver.

In Tim's hand was evidence that Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father, had orchestrated the death of Dick's, Jason's, and Tim's parents deaths.

And just putting those in words, even just in his mind, almost had him with the knee jerk reaction to crash his mind just to stop thinking about it.

Now Tim didn't know what to do but he, undoubtedly, had to do something. Anything.

Well, anything that hopefully wouldn't get him killed by the man he considered his father-

Bad Tim. Don't think about that. Not now.

Later.

Who was he supposed to go with this information?

Alfred?

..... Tim didn't know. Everything he knew about Alfred said that the man would've never condoned this if he knew.

But everything Tim had known about Batman said the same.

Tim was too scared to be wrong and maybe even more afraid to be right.

Oracle? No.

Babs was a badass but she was vulnerable to Batman. She might be able to help, distanced from the situation as she was, certainly would be able to make better decisions than Tim currently could, but Batman could get to her -and it was easier to think Batman than Bruce- and Tim didn't want anyone hurt, least of all her.

Wether this was real or not and regardless of the growing part of him that wanted to shut it all out.

Tim was running out of time.

His mind was working against him.

And wasn't that a chilling thought because suddenly the word brainwashing and reprogramming-

Not now, Tim.

The sound of footsteps, faint and purposeful, was like a shot through his chest.

Tim stuffed the stick in a skin coloured garter pocket wrapped around his calf.

"Master Timothy- My goodness, young man."

Oh yeah. He didn't just feel sick, he probably looked the whole shebang.

He turned and he was vaguely glad that he didn't need to fake a smile or what when Alfred crossed the distance between them with a pinched expression, because he really didn't think he could put up any expression other than shock. And that he could barely hold up as it slowly gave way to despair and- and just an amalgamation of emotions he couldn't start even naming much less dealing with.

Alfred rested a hand on his forehead, "Young man, how long have you been down here? It seems your cold has worsen. Hardly a surprise when you spend your time down in this damp basement."

Who was he supposed to go to?

Tim had only a handful of options.

Alfred, Barbara, and-

And Dick.

Oh, god, did Dick know?

He tilted to the right and Alfred caught him, lips pursed. Everything feels like it's trapped behind murky water.

"I think that's enough. Go up to your room now and rest, Master Timothy."

Dick would've warned him, right? If Dick had known, his big brother would've told him, right? He wouldn't have let this happen.

Dick was-

His big brother.

Dick wasn't his only brother. Wasn't the last option.

Jason.

Oh. It's weird to attach that label to that name.

Weird.

Not bad.

The older boy -man? he's never quite sure what to call them, neither word sounding right- never really acknowledge him as such, it was probably beyond presumptuous for Tim to think of him like that even in the quite of his mind, but....

Tim's head shot up, almost headbutting Alfred.

"You're right, Alfred. I'm- I'm going to go up."

He ignored how weak his voice sounded and moved away from the butler towards the manor, just barely managing not to break into a run.

Then he was breaking out into a run once he's out of sight, past the many rooms and halls of the Wayne manor, and throwing open the door of his room. Without a single pause, he picked up random semi-presentable garments off the floor and wiggled out of his pyjamas to put them on, digging around his closet for the black box containing his customised watch to strap on his wrist, and grabbing his skateboard, a sticky note, and a pen on his way out.

Tim slapped a 'do not disturb, sleeping' note on his door. Fifty-fifty that the warning would be heeded, every second would count.

Tim turned on the micro computer in his watch as he snuck out of the manor and past the grounds, using the shadows of the night and his innate predilection for stealth to his advantage.

~*~

A banging on the door had Jason grabbing a gun, Kori standing at attention, and Roy training an arrow at the window.

They were in one of his safe houses in Gotham, a short stop to pick up some supplies, patching each other up from their latest mission, before they're going straight back to the base.

No one should be knocking on this apartment.

Jason exchanged glances with the others and slowly approached the door-

"Please! Jason, I know you're in there! Please, please open up! Please, oh god, please open up!"

Robin.

He'd know that voice anywhere, practically his largest trigger for the Pit Madness-

He sounded desperate. In fact, if he was hearing right through the hardwood, the boy was practically sobbing.

Already knowing who it was, and feeling a trickle of worry in the back of his head despite himself, Jason sped up the rest of the way and pulled the door open to see Tim Drake in all his civilian teen glory. Pale, red rimmed eyes, and choking on his breath.

Out of his armor.

Defenceless in front of Jason.

Not Robin.

The boy didn't even wait for an invite, stumbling inside and grabbing the door out of his hands and slamming it close behind him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing kid?" Jason growled, letting all his menace fill the air.

Roy raised an eyebrow.

It was strange to see Jason being like this with a kid.

But Tim Drake was different.

No, not really. Jason was just a hypocrite who didn't do what he preach and wasn't actually all that better from those scums he put bullets in.

And Tim- Tim just stared.

So miserably it was the only thing keeping the green at bay from flaring as it usually did around his replacement.

That and the fact that, this time, if Jason was going to do something, he'd have to look Tim Drake in the eyes.

"Did- did you know?"

The question was so quiet he almost didn't catch it with his thoughts still swirling.

Jason blinked, "What."

And Tim sobbed, sliding down to the floor in a breakdown and Jason's mind blanked.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jason thought where was Dick?

(The last time he thought that, he was in a warehouse and a crowbar was falling on him.)

"I-" Hands came up to wipe at the tears in vain, "It was my fault. If I didn't- dad, and mom, they- and Bruce-"

Tim made some sort of keening sound and, yeah, he wasn't going to get anything out of the kid in his current state.

And Jason was hyperaware of his teammates behind him, waiting for his lead.

Jason dropped in a crouch barely an arms length away. The kid didn't even flinch, didn't make any indication that he was aware in how much danger he was currently in.

His cheeks were flushed and he was sweating in a way that had Jason suspecting that his temperature was higher than normal.

"Kid.... Tim...." it was a challenge to keep his voice at least not aggressive. The boy choked on another sob, blue eyes purple in the dim lighting as he looked at him, and oh, fuck, he was hyperventilating.

Jason needed him present.

And there was only one sure way he knew to do that.

"Robin. Calm down." He said in that exact same pitch he did.

But to Jason's confusion and actual rising concern, rather than freezing and gradually falling back to trained breathing, Tim paled -how that was even possible with how pale he already was, Jason didn't know- and reeled back in horror, chest stuttering.

Shit.

Jason watched him.

He shook his head, but at least his eyes seemed more present now, "Don't- don't call me that, please."

Well, if he hadn't already thought so before, now he knew with certainty that it was Bruce that got his Robin running towards his homicidal predecessor.

Go figure.

"Hey, kid. Tim. You need to calm down. Mainly, because you're not gonna get out whatever you came here to tell me or whatever, and partly because I ain't promising I'm not gonna get violent if you keep wasting my time."

.... It was exactly what he wanted to say, but as usual, something in him got a bit complicated. Not quite regret.

But closest he was probably going to get.

He felt that around Tim a lot.

Tim hiccupped, finally falling back on training to shove aside the hysteria. Then he pulled himself to his feet, eyes staying locked on Jason's and completely ignoring the two.

He presented him with something gold and Jason looked at it with a raised eyebrow as he straightened himself.

"I-" he cleared his throat, "I don't know- Just. Jason, you need to see this- no, I mean, you need to leave Gotham, immediately, and then read it. Everything. Don't- Don't come back until you do, please. That's-"

He ran his hand through his hair the second he was sure Jason wasn't going to drop the stick, looking torn between being as far away from it as he could and snatching it back.

He exhaled a gust, deflating, staring at the older boy morosely, sparing a glance at his friends.

"I don't know what to do, Jason. I- I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't think...... I don't want to think anymore, please. I'm sorry. I could be wrong, I'm probably wrong, I'm being stupid and just overreacting and- and I don't know what to do when I get back. I don't know if anyone else knows, if Alfred-" his voice hitched, "Or, Dick, or- or Superman, I just. I just don't know-"

Jason watched the teen practically break in front of him and in a split second decision, he telegraphed his actions.

And pulled Tim Drake into a hug.

"Calm down. Calm down. Breathe."

He didn't coo, and his voice wasn't designed to be soothing. It was almost a demand actually but it worked and Tim stopped babbling and after a few minutes of complete silence and Jason's hand awkwardly drawing circles on his back, their breathing were in sync.

"... Thank you." Tim said to his chest, and fuck, the kid was short and so fucking small how did he not bleed out-, "Thank you, Jason. I'm going to go- go home now."

And because, well, he didn't really know what else to do, Jason agreed and sent him out, letting him go back to the manor.

He'd regret that later.

~*~

Dick stared at his phone with a frown, worry churning in his gut.

3p.a.;bst¿!

Seemingly a random keyboard smash text from an unknown number, but was actually one of the many protocols of the contingencies his little brother absently rambled about during late nights hanging out, one of the many codes he'd memorized, not quite humoring Tim since anything was possible, but not one he'd ever worried about in their immediate future.

Batman was compromised and likely going after Dick for whatever reason.

And okay, yeah, Dick was concerned but not harried, since if it was really bad then another protocol would've been activated. Mind you, the Batman being compromised was truly something to be concerned about, but it seemed whatever was happening didn't pose the risk of Bruce dying.

That said, Batman was compromised and last Dick knew, Tim was with Batman.

And now Dick had no choice but to trust that Tim knew what he was doing and was somewhere safe for them to regroup.

Not that it stopped the familiar stone in his chest whenever he worried about his little brother -little brothers.

Dick grabbed his emergency pack and prepared to leave, for Nightwing to disappear while they fix this.

Sorry about the big block but I'm... trying to figure out how to do the read more thing on mobile.

[scullydubois]

What about a time when mulder meets up with scully to go for a walk with queequeg?

i may have gone overboard here, but how could i not? this prompt is so precious, thank you.

----------------

Friday Night with Queequeg, 2.4k--set in season three

“I can’t, Mulder,” his partner insists, her voice dialed up a few intervals for dramatic effect. “I’ve got Queequeg to worry about.”

Mulder drops his Washington Nationals tickets on the desk in disappointment. How lame to be overshadowed by a dog. “That fluffy little guy?” he whines. “Or girl, I'm not sure.”

“He’s a boy.”

“Okay well, he reminds me of one of those Tamagotchi things, have you seen the commercial?” Mulder rambles while shuffling various stray papers from his desk into a single incoherent stack. He’s careful not to sweep the tickets into it. “It’s a pocket pet--”

“I know what it is, Mulder. I have a godson.”

“And is Queequeg not just a glorified version of one of those?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. He needs food and attention and care. But, in case you didn’t know, he is also real and capable of giving much of that back to you.”

“Eh, reciprocated affection is overrated,” Mulder jokes, though life would be a lot damn easier if he believed that. “And it’s one of the few Fridays where we’re not traveling or jet-lagged or wholly tired of each other.”

Scully purses her lips. “I see significantly less of Queequeg per week than I do you,” she mutters, and Mulder wonders whether some of her feigned contempt might be genuine. He’s used to being subtly disliked, but the thought sure makes him sad.

Seeing the passion in his face dissolve, Scully realizes that he’s backing down. It’s not like him to back down, no matter how frivolous the issue is. She knows this about him if she knows anything. It’s as if he’s giving up, and that strikes her more than anything.

“Haven’t you ever had a dog, Mulder?” she asks, ignoring the chair in front of her to perch on the edge of his desk.

“Once. After Samantha.” He laughs out of pure scorn. “I think it was my parents’ way of trying to replace her.”

Scully frowns. She should know by now that any journey into his past will turn into a probe of his eternal wound, and that’s no fault of his own.

“What was its name? And were you fond of it?” Scully feels like a therapist--hopefully a kind and supportive one.

“Sparky. I’ve got no clue where the name came from, or the dog for that matter. He was just kinda there one day when I got home from school. And then in a few months, he was gone in the same way. Taken to my uncle’s cause my parents couldn’t stand all the upkeep.”

A thought pops into Scully’s head that is evidently shared by her partner. “No, he didn’t “go live on a farm’ or whatever, I was old enough not to fall for that,” Mulder insists. “He really did go live with my uncle. Lived like seven more years.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “But did you like him? Were you sad when he was gone?”

“I was sad about a lot of things at the time, Scully.” He opens his desk drawer and pops a piece of gum in his mouth. He’s out of sunflower seeds. “But about the dog? Eh, he was fine to have around but it wasn’t a quintessential boy and his dog moment. He was already a couple years old and well into his grumpy old man phase, if I remember correctly. And he was a mutt, so I think my parents hated him because he didn’t match the furniture.”

“Mmm.” Scully rolls her tongue over the roof of her mouth. It would be a shame to put Mulder through this whole conversation only to insist that she can’t attend the game. But she wasn’t just making excuses. Queeqeug has been home alone all day. and she always takes him for a walk when she gets home from work. He’s used to their routine now, sitting there at the door when she unlocks it like he’s got an alarm set. He gets his dinner when they get back home and falls soundly asleep. Scully’s convinced this is the only thing keeping him from rebelling for being on his own for ten hours a day, and she doesn’t want to test that theory.

Mulder glances at the office clock. 5:46. First pitch is at 7:05.

“How about this...” He props his feet up on the desk to give himself the air of confidence that he’s lacking. “I’ll run over to your place, walk him, make sure he does his business...the whole shebang. You can finish up here then take a taxi to the park, and I’ll meet you there. Sound good?”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn downward. Mulder notes that today, they are brushed over with a very nice coral. Must be a new shade.

“Do you really care that much about me attending this game?”

Mulder shrugs. Yes he does, but he’ll be nonchalant about it. “I bought the tickets cheap through a newspaper ad. I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to do something that’s not chasing phantoms.”

“Phantoms?” Scully’s left eyebrow arches. “Have I finally broken your spirit?”

Mulder smirks. “Sorry, I thought flattery might get me somewhere here.”

Scully taps a heel against the ugly linoleum floor. He’s so adamant about this...boyhood loves stick, she supposes.

“If it means that much to you, go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you’re late for the start of the game. Queequeg takes his time.”

Mulder claps his hands together. “That’s fine, that’s fine!” Surely he can hurry the canine up. “You take one ticket and head to the seats, and I’ll find you.”

Scully pulls her lips into a thin line, a hint of humor gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, Mulder. Do you have your key?”

He nods, pulls on his jacket, and edges toward the door. “See you there, Scully!”

“Bye.” Scully smiles at the empty office. Her partner’s enthusiasm is endlessly endearing.

---------------------

Mulder has no time to register that he has no clue where Queequeg’s leash is, or if he’s supposed to bring some sort of bag to pick up any...ehm, droppings, or if there’s some special trick to walking a dog that makes it look easy when it’s secretly hard. In fact, he can’t recall ever walking Sparky. Thirty years old and never walked a dog before...surely that qualifies him for the Guinness World Record books.

Queequeg is alert at the door when Mulder opens it, and he’s glad the thing is more teddy bear than canine--he doesn’t have to deal with any barking or biting. He checks the coat rack for a leash, then begins rummaging around in the front table when he comes up short. It’s all old issues of girly magazines he never would have expected Scully to subscribe to.

Begrudgingly, he looks into Queequeg’s beady eyes. “Where’s your leash, boy? You wanna go for a walk? Show me where your leash is.” He uses a baby voice he didn’t even know he had.

Queequeg does nothing but paw the ground in annoyance.

“I know the feeling,” Mulder quips. He pulls out his phone and chooses Scully’s name from the speed dial list.

It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. Mulder ends the call, grumbles, then tries the office number instead. She picks up after one ring.

“Hello?” her dainty voice projects through the line.

“Scully, you haven’t left yet?”

“I was just locking up the desk. Is there a problem?” she asks like she knew there would be.

“I can’t find Queequeg’s leash.”

“It’s by the pantry, next to his treats.”

Mulder sighs, heads into the kitchen. “And I suppose I have to take his treats too?”

“Uh-huh. And there’s plastic grocery bags in there that you can use to clean up after him.”

Mulder opens the pantry, sees the hoard. “I feared so.”

“We always go left down the block,” Scully tells her partner. “There’s a patch of grass that way he likes to chew on.”

“And how much does he pay you for such indelible service?” Scully doesn’t listen to a word he says, but she’s at the dog’s beck and call apparently.

There’s a bit of silence as Scully decides not to reply with a smartass remark. Then--”I’m leaving the office now,” she murmurs into the phone. “Better hurry up or I’ll beat you there.”

During this teasing, Mulder attached Queequeg’s leash to his collar. Now, as he tries to lead him into the living room, the dog refuses to move.

“Uh, Scully?”

“Yes?”

“I put his leash on, but Queequeg won’t budge.”

“Do you have the treats?”

Mulder shakes the treat bag and makes kissy noises to encourage the canine. (How humiliating.) Still, nothing.

“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Mulder says. “Even the treats won’t lure him over.”

“Are you sure it’s the right treats?” Scully asks.

“Since when are dogs picky about their treats? Treats are treats. And these are the only ones in the pantry.”

“Huh.”

“If you’re rolling your eyes, I can’t see it,” Mulder mutters.

“I’m not rolling my eyes, I just--we’ve never had this problem.”

“Has anyone else walked him?” Mulder wiggles the leash, which does nothing.

“My mom.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t like men,” Mulder remarks.

“He lived with Clyde Bruckman…”

“Exactly.”

Scully takes a quick exhale. He has a point. “I’ll head over, okay? But I doubt we’ll make the game.”

“We’ll see.” Mulder sighs. He’s being...well, cockblocked isn’t the right word for it--but something like that--by a dog.

-----------------

Scully arrives half an hour later to find Mulder crouched on the kitchen floor rubbing Queequeg’s belly.

“Am I interrupting something?” she teases. The dog rolls over and leaps into excitement at the sound of her voice, abandoning Mulder altogether.

“Hi buddy.” She scratches his ears and dodges his attempts to lick her face. “You ready to go for a walk?”

Queequeg whimpers and sits as if she commanded him to.

Scully looks to Mulder with a brilliant, taunting smile. “I think he’s ready.”

Mulder stands up, every disk in his back rebelling against him. “That thing--” Mulder jabs a finger in Queequeg’s direction--”has a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on.”

“Really, cause you seemed to be having a great time until I came in.”

“No, no, no, don’t spin this. I had to get down on the kitchen floor because he wouldn’t move! What was I supposed to do while we were waiting for you, ignore him?”

Scully shrugs, tries to hide her smirk. “Well, if you were so bothered by him…”

“Whatever, whatever. Let’s just go for the walk, okay? I don’t want to miss this game, it’s against the Red Sox. It should be good.”

Scully takes Queequeg’s leash from her partner, gestures for him to go ahead. “After you.”

------------------

It’s a beautiful spring night--the perfect occasion for a baseball game, Scully will give Mulder that. The sun is drifting down the cloudless horizon, and the chill that has hung in the air for months is finally admitting defeat. The sidewalk is crowded with other dogs and their humans, eager to end the week on such a lovely note.

Queequeg trots blissfully in the usual direction. Scully lengthens her stride to keep up with him--for once she and Mulder are walking at the same pace.

“So this is DC on a Friday night, huh?” Mulder says, glancing around at their fellow pedestrians and bicyclists.

Scully nods. “If you got out of the office before seven, you’d know.”

“Doubtful. My usual impression of DC on a Friday night is the traffic on the 14th Street bridge, and I’m pretty sure I can witness that at all hours.”

Scully allows herself a sidelong glance at her partner. She had never realized someone could be too dedicated until she met Mulder.

“Have you ever considered getting a pet?” she asks tentatively.

His gaze snaps to her. He chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets. “My complex has a hefty monthly pet fee. Rent is already bad enough.”

“Well it’s not like you go out often…” Scully starts, knowing this is short of a compliment. “You’re not a big spender, surely you have the extra cash on hand.”

“Ha, thanks,” Mulder responds. “Should I put that on my resume?”

“I just mean that…” Queequeg finds his beloved patch of grass, and they pause to let him chomp at it. “...you could use the companionship of a dog. Or cat, if that strikes your fancy.”

“I have enough companionship, Scully. More than I know what to do with. Have you heard my answering machine?”

“A woman from an 800 line is not companionship, Mulder. And you never actually answer any of your messages. Friends don’t count if you never see them.”

“Ouch.” Queequeg finishes up, and they resume the walk. “And what are your plans this weekend, Scully?” he asks, hoping to catch her in her own hypocrisy.

“As a matter of fact, I’m going to visit my mother tomorrow afternoon.”

Mulder busts out laughing. “You’re a real party girl!”

She ignores him, focusing on Queequeg. “But you get my point, don’t you? It’s not good to be alone all the time.”

“I seem to recall being told that we spend more time together than you and your dog,” Mulder wisecracks.

“That’s different,” Scully swears. “That’s work.”

“That’s the bulk of modern life, my dear.” He delivers this statement in an old-timey mid-Atlantic accent like some leading man of the 40s. It makes Scully smile.

“I have an idea,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh boy.” Mulder glances at his watch. 6:51. Damn it. “We’re gonna miss the game.”

Scully nods. “Let’s go to the animal shelter instead.”

Mulder stops. It makes Queequeg, and therefore Scully, stop too. “What?”

“You could make some dog very happy, you know. And Queequeg would have a playmate...I think it would be really good for you, Mulder.”

“Come on, I can’t just adopt a dog on a whim.”

“I did.”

“Shit.”

Scully laughs. “You’re realizing there’s no way out of this, aren’t you?”

Mulder grins. “Yeah, I--” He looks down and sees Queequeg taking a dump in the middle of the sidewalk. Scully readies the plastic bag she brought, then bends down and scoops the pile up like it’s nothing.

Mulder screws up his face. “On second thought…”

“Nuh-uh.” Scully ties the bag and taps it against Mulder’s arm. “You’re empty-handed, take this. It’ll be good practice.”

Mulder frowns but takes the bag. His partner’s huge smile is not lost on him, and it makes him smile despite himself. She knows how to get what she wants, and he has a feeling this one will benefit him too.

[vore-scientist]

An Honest Mistake

[Safe/soft GT vore, male pred & female prey + female observer. Fearplay with especially brave prey. Fantasy setting]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Proper Title: In Which a Young Knight Takes on a Quest That Was Not Meant For Her and Has Tea With an Old Friend

Content Warnings: Yonah gets a cut on his hand and uses it for intimidation purposes + interesting fearplay aspects since the prey is a proper noble knight and willing to “sacrifice” herself (obviously she lives. it just get a bit intense for her). To go into details here would be spoilers. Do not hesitate to privately message me if you feel you need me to elaborate! 

All characters are my OCs and they are all adults! 

[Special thanks to @nommy-thoughts for beta-reading!]

---

Nothing much had changed since she last set foot in the City of Luster but five years does make some difference. Everything seemed bigger and grander, but also a bit smaller. For Zelda had grown a lot, she almost was as tall as the horse she was leading; she could look it in the eyes at least, if she stood on her tiptoes. Most girls stop gaining height at around 16, but not her. She kept right on growing, up and out. Now she was 18 and finally slowing down. Height and brawn were good things, considering the reason she left home was to become a knight. 

Now she was back and had a lot of catching up to do. Knight School is one of those things that takes many years, and you’re not allowed much contact with the outside world. Knights are above gossip after all. All she knew was that Princess Ilana was going to be married in about two months. 

That was the main reason she was even Luster and not off adventuring. It was going to be a big party. And she had almost missed it. Or missed the RSVP date, since the Grand Master Knights kept the mail from the apprentices for 1 month unless it was an emergency. Again, the gossip thing. No distractions allowed. Thankfully, she made it to Journeyer and was given access to her mail a week early.

 The first thing Zelda opened was the most fancy and official of envelopes. Turned out to be a wedding invitation.

 Journeyer Knights got to go on Journeys and take on their first quests! And there were always minor quests being posted about in Luster, it was a veritable hub of job listings, quests, and fairytales. Zelda was sure to find one in no time. And perhaps involving someone else she knew. For she had grown up friends with the royals of Orr. Who knows what they’ve gotten up to in the last five years.

 Especially the Princess Sophia. That twerp of a Princess was always getting into some sort of trouble. Not scandal worthy, most of the time.

 As her thoughts turned to Sophia, the Knight passed by a particular bakery. The Taste of Victory. A popular spot among leaving and returning questers. A memory burst into her mind, and she tied up her horse on a lamppost and headed inside.

 It smelled exactly like how she remembered. Like honey, spices, and heaven. It was nearing noon and the savory scents of meat filled pastries came from the back, though the sweet cakes and confections that surrounded the walls were much stronger. The two, sweet and savory, did not conflict, rather they danced into her nose.

 “Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time. All grown up! I barely recognized you! Unless you’re not Zelda Barzilay.”

 The Journeyer Baker hadn’t changed a bit; they barely looked older. The same long blonde hair and green-grey eyes, a pudgy face and body to go with it. Though… they must be a Master by now.

 “Or is it Sir Zelda now?”

 Zelda ran her hands through her thick but two inch long hair as she walked up to the counter, “It is indeed, hence the hair. All trainees must keep it short. However, I’m growing it out again. I expect you are now Master Aloni?”

 Aloni beamed, “I’m running the whole shebang now! I have my own Apprentice, but they’re out on deliveries. I don’t miss that job but I do miss the people.”

 “Do you have any koftashen?”

 “Now, that’s also a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Aloni sounded sorry, but there was a hint of cheekiness in their voice.

 Zelda’s face fell. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it would have been a nice surprise.

 “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make one! It’s not like we don’t have the pastry dough. Just that particular combo was never that popular, it was just-”

 “Sophia and I’s favorite.”

 “Sophia was pretty much the only reason we stocked it. Not wise to discontinue a Royal’s favorite, even if her preference didn’t start a trend.” Unlike some items, like the special maamoul that became Prince Daniel’s favorite. Daniel was a trendsetter and they couldn't stock the product fast enough. 

Many knights are airheads, just minor nobles or lucky commoners who got picked to train as heroes. So most didn’t think about much beyond honor and fighting. Puzzle solving was for clever folk like wizards. Zelda wasn’t exactly a genius, but she started to connect the dots, and worry filled her stomach.

 “Wait- Did something happen to Sophia?”

 Aloni looked a bit surprised then recovered, “Right, you wouldn't have heard, though it wasn’t exactly huge news. Kinda weird now that I think about it. There was no big hullabaloo or anything! Just kinda got around. I only heard by eavesdropping on, - uh, thanks to gossiping customers. Glad I did; I had to throw out a lot of stale kofts. I mean, It would have been nice to get a heads up-”

 “What happened!”

 “Calm down, she was just kidnapped!- Hey watch it!”

CRASH

Zelda had slammed a fist on the counter and a glass container of cookies fell to the floor.

 “Just kidnapped!”

 “Yeah, by an evil witch or something.”

 “What!? When did this happen?”

 “I- I don’t know, a while ago?”

 “And she’s not been rescued!?”

 Aloni’s placidity made Zelda furious. And as they shook their head, Zelda grew worried. An unknown number of months and no rescue. Why had no one told her? Gossip or not, the kidnapping of her childhood friend was a big deal. There was no telling what state she was in now.

 “Hey why don’t you give it a go!”

 Zelda stopped fuming. “Wha-”

 “She probably hasn’t been rescued because the right person hasn’t made the attempt! You two were great friends, so maybe it’s your fate!”

 A random person had walked into the store but slowly backed out, hanging around outside. Best not to get involved with knights. You tend to get roped into adventures where anyone but the knight is expendable. After centuries of this, the populace had managed to catch on. Though there are still those reckless enough and foolish enough to get caught up in the excitement.

 “I-” Zelda brightened, “It must be! Of course! My friend: kidnapped while I was in school! And then it’s the first thing I learn of when I return home to visit her. If that’s not the start of my first fairytale I don’t know what is.”

 Then she paused.

 “Uh, you don’t happen to know where Sophia was kidnapped to, do you?”

 Aloni held out their hands, “Sorry Zelda, I’m not even sure she was kidnapped by a witch. But, I can whip up some koftashen to take with you!”

 “That would be great, and uh-” Zelda looked at the glass and cookies by her feet. “I’ll pay for this…”

 ---

 Since Zelda had paid for them she munched on the least messed up cookies that had not touched the floor and had no glass pieces in them as she continued towards the castle on the other side of town. Surely someone must know more details about Sophia’s kidnapping.

 “Sophia… the royal one? No, don't know a thing.”

 “Kidnapped you say?”

 “Good, it will keep her out of trouble.”

 “Sorry, I remember hearing about it maybe a year ago, but not who told me.”

 Seemed like either people didn’t know or knew as much as Aloni. Or that the troublemaker was finally being dealt with. People knew Sophia. The princess with an unfortunate reputation. Not that she had caused any undue damage in the city, but people talked about how much of a pain in the ass she was for her father. Not the best reputation. At least no one outright hated her.

 The common folk were clearly the wrong people to be asking. Someone closer to the inner workings of the kingdom. Ah, there was a Mage Guard.

 “Hey, you, Ranger fellow!” The ranger, who had been leaving a textile’s shop holding a lot of cloth didn’t startle (too well trained), but he raised a brow and nodded.

 “Yes, Sir?” as if he was not sure if what he was seeing was a Knight.

 “Sir Zelda Barzilay! A pleasant afternoon to you,” she gave him a shallow, respectful bow.

 The ranger sighed, adjusting his hold on his fabrics, “If we must talk, can we at least walk?”

 “Oh,” Zelda’s face grew hot, guess she was interrupting official business, “I can help you. Why don't you let my horse carry that?”

 The ranger’s attitude improved at the suggestion, though Nechesh’s suffered. She was already carrying all of Zelda’s stuff and was not a pack animal! But as a Knight’s Steed she was also steadfast and hardworking. She could handle a few pounds of fabric.

 “I am Master Ranger Nimrod, What did you want to talk about, Sir Zelda?”

 A Master Ranger? What was a Master Ranger doing errands for? Nevermind that, not her business.

 “I heard The Princess Sophia was kidnapped recently, and I hoped you might know something.”

 Ranger Nimrod stopped and looked Zelda up and down. He was shorter than her by a few inches, though his magical aura gave him a large presence. Rangers were known for being clever and perceptive. Was he sizing her up? Was that concern in his eyes? Could he tell she had only just become a journeyer, having earned the right to be called Sir only a few months ago? Would he refuse to tell her based on her inexperience?

 “I'm guessing you want to rescue her;  a bold task for such a fresh knight.”

 “She’s my friend!”

 That got her a shocked look.

 “Really now! That’s a bit different. The Princess Sophia was kidnapped by a mage and taken to his tower in the Mystic Woods.”

 Zelda stopped. And laughed.

 Of Course! Why hadn’t she thought of that. Stupid! Of course Ben would have hired a mage who lives in the Mystic Woods. That way he could be sure she was safe. Zelda didn’t know much about how being King of the Mystic Woods worked, but she knew he had some freaky connection, like he was part of the forest or it was part of him? Something like that. Magical bullshit wasn’t her speciality.

 And of COURSE she was in a tower. Sophia never cut her damn hair in all the years Zelda knew her. That was practically begging to be stuck in a tower.

 Finally she composed herself.

 “Then I, Sir Zelda Barzilay child of Sarai Barzilay, Knight Of Orr, shall rescue her!”

 She turned to the ranger, “Thank you!”

 A hand caught the back of her armor as she started to lead Nechesh away.

 “Not so fast, Young Knight. You said you would help me. Complete one quest first.”

 Right. Her cheeks red, she turned around, and followed the ranger.

 TO THE CASTLE!

 No no. She couldn’t go inside. Telling anyone else about her plans would make the expectations too high and she would fuck up somehow. But the ranger insisted she see this through. They left Nechesh in the front stable, each taking half the rolls of fabric. Trying to be inconspicuous, she passed into the main entrance.

 Where they were greeted by Princess Sasha.

 And Zelda nearly dropped her cargo.

 The princess’s loose wavy dark brown hair was practically glittering around their light brown face. And to wrap it all up, their honey brown eyes shone brightly. Their plump cheeks were almost flawless, though make-up was playing a part, and they were dressed in stunning greens and yellows.

 Had Sasha always been this lovely? 

 Certainly they had always been cute, but the last time Zelda has seen them was when they were both 13. They had been in the same year for their Transitionary Classes. Royals didn’t attend commoner school except for certain special classes between the ages of 12 and 14, when everyone in the kingdom undertakes their first apprenticeship and also a deep dive into their country’s history and culture. Immersing themselves in language and arts and dedicating themselves to an assigned task. And at the end was thrown a big celebration; for those who have now taken their first steps towards adulthood.

 Some people, like Zelda and Sasha, manage to finish their training in a year. Others took two or even three, but it doesn’t matter how long. 

There are parties held for those who complete their work at the end of the year. And when that included a royal, well, those begame legendary. For the capital city’s 13 year olds at least. Sasha’s party had been the most memorable night for Zelda’s 13 years of life. The princess had even danced with her.

 That’s when she resolved to save Sasha’s sister. She could not let this family down.

 “Ohmygods is that Zelda you’re so tall!” The princess rushed up and hugged Zelda as the knight’s thoughts and feelings processed. The princess, though her equal in age, came up to her chest. It couldn’t have been comfortable, she had armor on!

 “It is an honor to see you again Your Highness.”

 Sasha laughed, “I bet it is. That must be the materials for our dresses. Thank you Master Nimrod, I hope such a task wasn’t too easy for you.”

 It was a kind of silly mission for a high ranking ranger.

 “I guarded the fabric with my life, Highness.”

 He gave a small bow before leaving his load with a servant. Leaving Zelda alone with Sasha. And the servant.

 “Uh, I must be going too, I uh, have a quest.”

 There was a flash of disappointment in Sasha’s face.

 “But? You just got here,” they said. “You are still welcome in the castle you know! Don’t you need to rest up before your quest?”

 Spending a night at the castle was extremely tempting. But she had stayed at an inn outside town before gathering the courage to enter. Both she and Nechesh were well rested. However.

 “I could use a few supplies. A ration pack, if your rangers can spare one. My quest is taking me into the Mystic woods.”

 Sasha nodded.

 “And when I’m done I’m coming right back here! I promise. And! I’m going to the wedding. Carrying all this fabric has made me realize I don’t have an outfit!”

 Sasha took Zelda’s hand, “Please, I would hate myself if you didn’t use the royal seamstresses. You’ve been a friend to so many of us. And I’ll see you get that pack.”

 There was no way Zelda could just leave. Not now.

 “I, suppose I could stay for an hour or two, I only had cookies for lunch.”

 The princess beamed, “I haven’t even eaten yet! Come on.”

 And she was led away, after another servant took the rest of the fabric.

 —-

 Staying for the next hour had been a mistake. Now she didn’t want to leave, catching up with Sasha had been so much fun and she only wanted to keep talking. But she knew she had to. No one else could rescue the Princess Sophia. If no one had done so in several months, that must mean she was meant to do it. One of the princess’s best friends!

 Sasha saw her out of the castle, and Zelda put on her helmet before mounting Nechesh and setting her off at a slow trot back out of the city in the direction of the Mystic Woods.

 ---

 There was no point in asking where the tower was, at least not until in the forest, as unless the information is fresh, it’s not worth anything. The only person who could tell where anything is with any accuracy would be the King. But even if she could have asked King Ben before heading out, the location could shift before she made it to the border.

 So she just went straight in with no plan at all other than to question anyone she came across if they seemed friendly.

 While she didn’t regret taking extra time in the city it did mean she arrived in the forest as the sun was going down. Not really safe to sleep out in the open and thus priority changed from finding Sophia’s prison to finding a place to camp for the night. Anywhere would do.

 It would be a pity for the koftashen to go stale.

 As if the Mystic Woods shared her agency with regards to delivering fresh baked goods, the Knight and her Horse suddenly left the cover of the trees and found themselves on the edge of a clearing. A clearing filled with an orchard, a garden, and.

 A tower.

 But was it The Tower? Sleeping in one of the trees outside would be better than sleeping in some random evil mage’s tower.

 Zelda had to at least check it out.

 “Shhh” she dismounted and quieted Nechesh at the edge of the garden. Surely that wouldn’t shift away from the tower! And she crept forward.

 The proper thing to do would be to wait for the morning, or just any daytime hour. Wait for the mage to leave and then call out for Sophia to lower her hair.

 However, Zelda was not patient, and judging by the height of the tower, even Sophia’s hair couldn’t serve as a rope. Plus the pastries.

 “AHHHHHHGGH” the scream of a young woman broke the silence, accompanied by a terrible laughter.

 From a scream like that, Zelda was a bit surprised how sure she was that it was definitely Sophia. It was hard to tell the scream had been agony, or Terror, or excitement. Had she come at just the right moment!? What kind of torture was she enduring? Zelda couldn’t even imagine what a mage could invent.

 She ran to the tower intending to climb but to her dismay the thick and sturdy vines were full of thorns. This could only be scaled with care. As she climbed, the voices faded, but it didn’t sound like anyone had died. Just the sound had retreated as if Sophia and her captor had left the room at the top of the tower.

 At least Zelda hoped that was the case. 

Fuck! Climbing with armor on sucked a lot! At least it protected her from the thorns; she couldn’t feel them at all! She just had to watch out for her hands, which were unfortunately only adorned in leather.

 It took awhile but she made it up, and looked into a dimly lit workshop that definitely belonged to a mage. Staring into it hurt her brain, her eyes strained and a smidgen of nausea hit.

 She had to sit down and gain her strength back anyways. Good thing she did, for as she sat the perspective shifted. Her nausea went away but her heart sank and her blood went cold.

 For the workshop, which had been completely normal, was now over three times its original size. The drop from the windowsill to the floor? From 4 feet to 15. Impossible to jump down through making a lot of noise.

 And in her armor she would make a terrible racket. Not a good thing when dealing with a giant. For if the mage fit the workshop, he had to be massive. What was he? An overgrown troll? Giants she had seen, they were massive and combating them required special training and tools. Which she didn’t have. But this space wasn’t large enough for a proper giant.

 Not important. Sophia was here! She needed to be rescued.

 Carefully and silently, as the massive candle on the massive desk slowly melted, she took off her armor. Taking off armor doesn’t take as long as donning it, but it still took several minutes to do so without making a sound. Soon she was in under armor silks, though she kept her sword and helmet. And the satchel of koftashen.

 Without her clanking boots, she landed with a soft THUMP on the floor, and she ran for the trapdoor she had seen. There had to be a way to open it. There just had to! But there wasn’t. Why would a giant mage make it easy for his princess to run away by giving her a convenient door?

She circled it many times, searching for something. Anything. 

Aha! 

 A small crack. Actually a large one, but small for a giant door. A natural hole in the wood that had been rounded and sanded. She lowered herself cautiously. Holding onto the edge with her hands, she dangled above nothing, the drop farther than her feet could reach. It would be on faith that the drop was not a fatal distance.

 She let go.

 It was still a shock, but the fall was only a few feet. The first step on a giant staircase. The steps were each about 4ft in height, not fun to climb down but not dangerous.

 At the first landing, she had to stop. Holy hell, she was getting tired. If she didn’t find Sophia on this level, she would hide and sleep.

 It was quaint and peaceful. A picture perfect living room with a big armchair with a futon and matching couch. A full bookshelf with books both human and giant sized. A coffee table with a goblet of wine that had to have been left out hours ago. And a brick fireplace.

 Even though there were no windows on the outside of the tower, there were on the inside. And as the last embers of a fire merrily crackled, star and moon light shown in through what had to be magic windows.

 That armchair, even though it must have thick rough fabric, called to her to climb up and curl into a corner to sleep. No! She would search this floor and if she didn’t find the princess then she would find a real hiding spot, not pass out someplace in the open.

 Keeping to the walls that were cast in shadows because it was now officially night probably would have been the best course of action. Yet something inside her made her scurry between the furniture, crawl under the couch. Oh hey! A gold piece. Peek out from the feet of the armchair, and even climb up to get a sip of the long forgotten wine. Much of the alcohol had evaporated. It was also very very sweet.

 Get back to it!! Her brain screamed, and she scrambled back down.

 The living room led into two hallways, so she picked the left one. It seemed just as good as the right. Now she stayed close to the wall, and stepped with care. Slow going but safe.

 Was that a light up ahead? She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. Footsteps soon reached her ears. Soft ones.

 Five years had not changed Sophia very much. Not like they had for Zelda. There was a big difference between 13 to 18 and 16 to 21. Sophia was exactly the same height as before, only her body’s proportions adjusted to her age, and her hair was even longer. The princess was holding a dim light in her hands, dressed in a nightgown, and was walking towards her! 

As she neared, Zelda saw the sleepiness in her face; the princess walked right by her, even as the light shone on Zelda’s person as she passed. Then, after walking a few more paces she froze. And walked backwards.

 Sophia’s sleepy visage was replaced by shock and then, joy? But not the joy of seeing an old friend. This was the face Sophia always wore when she was about to get into big trouble, and have fun doing it. Sophia opened her mouth.

 NO!

 Zelda pounced, putting the princess into a one armed hold, her other hand she pressed to Sophia’s mouth to keep her quiet. She did not want to deal with a giant mage if she didn’t have to. Sophia’s eyes got wide with fear and anger, and fought against the embrace.

 She was stronger than Zelda anticipated, and managed to move the hand, just enough to-

 YIPE!

 Sophia bit down hard, but Zelda only let out a small cry. Knights know how to remain steadfast under assault, though she was surprised. Plus she still had on leather gloves.

 “Let go of me!” Sophia hissed. She would not be rescued.

 “Sophia, it’s me!” Zelda stepped away and raised her visor, and Sophia held up the magelight.

 “No way, Zelda!?” Could it really be her friend? It had been so long. And she was so big now!

 “Shhhh!” Was Sophia crazy? They could not be found out.

 Sophia’s expression darkened even as the light grew brighter. This was her friend after all.

 “What are you doing here!?” she demanded, her voice mercifully low.

 Was she serious? Sophia was a captive princess, and Zelda was a knight! What else would she be doing?

 “Rescuing you, dummy!” Zelda whispered. Then remembered that Sophia was out and about. Perhaps whatever terror she just endured has inspired her? “Wait, are you escaping?”

 Sophia, who had taken a rather professional defensive stance, relaxed and stood up. Not that it made much difference. She looked a bit annoyed and disappointed.

 “No. Zelda, I don't want to be rescued.” She made sure her tone was low and serious; she had no patience for those who disrespect her wishes. And even if Zelda was her friend, things change, and going off to knight school could have turned her foolish.

 Zelda regretted showing her face, for it was surely as red as a tomato. She had not considered Sophia might be here by choice. That was known to happen. But even most royals who elect to be kidnapped did so just to get rescued. It was rare that they wanted to stay. Given that Sophia’s kidnapping hadn’t been a big deal back in Orr, it now made sense that it was because rescue was never the plan.

 “You’re sure? You’re not enchanted to say that?” Which was another possibility.

 Sophia rolled her eyes. She wished people would just believe her. “If I was, the spell wouldn’t let me tell you.”

 No. Such spells never did. It was very irritating. But she couldn’t leave now! She just got here and she wanted to talk to her friend. So she took the satchel and presented it to the princess. Sophia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 “I hope you’re not trying to trick me or-”

 “No! It’s-”

 Sophia held up a hand, “Actually, let’s continue talking somewhere else. Plus, I still need to pee.”

 Zelda gave her a questioning look.

 “I was heading to the bathroom, Zelda,” Sophia sneered, and continued walking. Zelda ran to catch up when she finished processing and returned the satchel to her back. Matching pace with the princess they walked side by side. Sophia was walking rather fast.

 “You’re not locked in a cage?”

 “Not locked up, no.”

 “So how long have you been here? No one back home could agree, some said a year, some said only a few months.”

 Hmmm. Sophia considered, “I think it’s almost 8 months now!” She had a smile on her face, “Time really flies huh! How long ago did you go off to be a knight?”

 “Five years- and I am a knight now!”

 “Congrats!” Sophia was very sincere. She was proud of her friend!

 They stopped talking when they made it to the stairs.

 “You have to climb?”

 “I used to, but recent installations have made it easier.” She didn’t go into detail. But a few months ago, when it was clear Sophia was here to stay, Yonah had installed accommodations befitting a human resident.

 Sophia walked to the right hand side of the staircase, with intent to go further down. As she stepped down a new staircase appeared! A small one, for smallfolk. That ran alongside the giant. Why hadn’t Zelda seen that before? Now that she thought about it, that had definitely not been there.

 It was only about a flight’s worth down of the small stairs that a massive door appeared on the dark stone wall. Again, out of nowhere. It was unlocked and slightly ajar, and they both slipped in.

 “How about you wait outside.” The bathroom was large but she still wanted privacy.

 “Right.” She returned to the hallway, but leaned on the door, worried it would vanish otherwise.

 What a long trek just to use the bathroom at night! What if it had been some sort of emergency? Zelda was inclined to ask once Sophia was finished but also felt like that was a kind of awkward question. Also she was curious about what the bathroom looked like. It must be big. Was there a tiny toilet for Sophia? Again, she decided not to ask, not right away.

 It did take a little while for Sophia to return, but she did.

 “Since I’m already up, how about some tea?”

 Tea would go great with the koftashen! So Zelda agreed.

 They continued down the stairs into a kitchen.

 A big kitchen.

 Sophia led her to the counter, and as Sophia reached up and touched something, a ladder appeared! They both climbed up and walked over to the large stove. There was a kettle, large and metal and well loved. But how was Sophia going to use it?

 From behind a jar Sophia dragged out a smaller stove! And a smaller tea kettle. This one was shiny and new.

 Sophia went to the large sink on the other side of the counter and pushed the faucet handle with all her strength. The water was too far to reach so she hopped into the sink and held the kettle underneath. She returned with very wet feet and the edge of her nightgown dripping.

 The water now heating up, Sophia climbed up to the cabinets. Zelda followed, and found before her boxes and jars of dried leaves and fruits and spices. The smells almost made her pass out. She pulled her shirt over her face, but her eyes still stung.

 “You sure you know-” Zelda knew that Sophia didn’t know how to cook. None of the royals except maybe Daniel and Rosalind, could cook.

 “I can manage.” She looked a bit worried, and sniffed each item carefully before choosing what was clearly a pre-made blend, and a few extras. Hopefully it was all tea.

 From one of the corners she retrieved a teapot. She blew the dust off of it and sneezed.

 “Do you even know how to use that?” Because the amount of dust made Zelda wonder if it had ever been used.

 “I- do…” Sophia didn’t say anything else and climbed back down to the countertop.

 The water was ready and Sophia put her mysterious tea mixture into the pot then added the hot water. It had to steep so she went to find some teacups. That’s when they both heard it.

 Footsteps. And Zelda knew they could only belong to one who was properly sized for the tower.

 “It had to be now?!” She looked at Zelda with a sympathetic face. Maybe she could spare Zelda the humiliation. At the very least she could try. But Yonah was usually in the mood for a treat, and was a major asshole.

 The footsteps grew louder and Zelda stood up, putting on her helmet and unsheathing her sword.

 “Now what’s going on here?” the grumbling voice came a few seconds before it’s owner.

 Not in a nightgown, but in his full regalia, the half-giant wizard filled the entrance, in the dim kitchen his eyes were like torches. Then he snapped his fingers and the room filled with light. The two women blinked their vision back to clarity as he approached. He had not done his hair, so it billowed behind him, making him look even larger. He had not shaved, so he looked more wild. His massive rectangular nerd glasses did nothing to make him look less intimidating.

 “A knight” Yonah growled, “Trying to make your escape, princess?”

 Zelda recovered her stance but Sophia just crossed her arms.

 “No, Yonah. Just making tea.”

 “A likely story!” He slammed a hand down on the counter and they both backed up to the wall. Sophia didn’t think he’d hurt them, but fuck he was really scary. Zelda moved in front of her. “What did this knight do to convince you?”

 “Stay away from her, you monster!”

 “No- Zelda don’t”

 Zelda probably didn’t know that Yonah was just playing. That behind that snarling face was a half-giant having way too much fun. Sophia knew it.

 “It doesn’t really matter,” Yonah withdrew his hand and crossed his arms. “She knows the punishment for escaping.”

 He was so quick that even Zelda couldn’t react in time. Yonah had each human in a fist. Sophia continued to glare at him. Zelda struggled.

 “Let us go you idiot,” Sophia yelled. “Zelda wasn’t rescuing me!”

 Yonah faltered for only a moment, breaking character. She knew the knight's name! That was different. And the room did smell of tea, though it was a bit off. Sophia normally called for him if a knight showed up, she didn’t string them along. Unless this was a new tactic so that he could get extra treats! No. Her face was hard. He came to the conclusion that she didn't want him to eat this one. 

Well, that wasn’t up to her.

 “You really shouldn’t have come, foolish knight.” He eyed Zelda with a look of horrible gratitude. “I told her, if she tried to run,” he looked back at Sophia with accusation in his eyes and licked his lips, “I would eat her.”

 Sophia knew the glare was because she wasn’t playing along. Well, it was clear he’d made up his mind. If she continued to spoil the moment he might really punish her. Extra chores or exercises. Ugh. He’d definitely eat her too. She didn’t mind that so much anymore, and even enjoyed it sometimes, but it was still annoying. Fine. She’d play. A little.

 She screamed.

 /Fuck!/ Zelda thought. /Is this why she refused to be rescued? Her captor was a person-eating monster who would hunt them down?/ And Sophia had somehow thought that having tea would be safe. That it wouldn’t look suspicious?/

 The giant brought Sophia closer to his mouth.

 “NO!” Zelda bellowed. 

 Somehow she’d managed to swing her arms at the proper angle to slash her sword across the back of Yonah’s hand. He yelled, waving his hand and letting go, Sophia yelped as he squeezed her. Zelda was flung onto the counter, but she rolled and was uninjured.

 “Release her! Or I’ll-”

 “Do what, fight me?” Yonah backed away, not out of fear. He looked like he wanted her to try.

 Zelda couldn’t leap at him from the counter anymore.

 “I don’t need two morsels tonight, you might be able to slip away before I’m finished with the princess,” he taunted, his eyes glowing. “If you’re fast enough”

 Sophia knew exactly what he was going for. He couldn’t activate her curse while being watched, it was super obvious, and he didn’t like to eat her without it. Also he had done this play before. Not exactly like this, but the same threat, the same promise, which was just bait. Either they took it or fled, and Yonah would eat her and then be a complete dumbass and eat the knight too, giving himself a stomach ache. Would Zelda run or?-

 “Save yourself Zelda, I’ll make sure it takes a while to choke me down!” she said, a little flatly. 

 Yonah gave her a sly smile. Sophia felt a bit bad for her friend. Not that bad however, messing with people was fun. So she struggled in Yonah’s grasp and spit at his face, which only hit his glasses.

 “Never!” Zelda yelled with practiced ferocity. “If you’re fine with one morsel, then why not me instead!”

 Yonah laughed, “I was planning to eat you both earlier, and I could easily catch you! Or did you fail to realize that I am not a mere half-giant, but a great and powerful wizard!?”

 Zelda panicked. She had of course realized, she knew he was a mage before knowing he was a half-giant. But wizard? She was fucked. He never planned to let her go in the first place, he was just playing with his food.

 “If you eat her, then the knights will stop coming!”

 “So?” Yonah huffed, “I don’t like knights,” he held up his bleeding hand, and then licked the blood. That was a jerk move even for him, it would make being eaten even more unpleasant! However, it did make him look much more menacing.

 “But, she attracts them, and-”

 The giant’s laughter cut her off, “You’d rather offer yourself up, and let other knights meet the same fate, than let her die?”

 “No!” Zelda growled, “Someone will rescue her, but that won’t happen if she’s dead!”

 There was a long moment of silence. It was really just like 5 seconds but to Zelda it was an eternity, as time slowed down. The giant could just eat them both and get on with his life unburdened. Then things sped up as the giant laughed.

 “Very well then.” He smiled wide, his teeth glistening with his own blood.

 “Drop the princess,” Zelda ordered, but the giant still smiled.

 “You drop your sword first.”

 “Yonah don’t you dare drop me!” Sophia hissed, but couldn’t know if he heard her.

 Zelda waivered, but then relaxed her stance. Hanging her head, she let go and the sword clattered next to her. When she looked up the wizard still held her friend.

 “Well!”

 “Im not stupid, young knight, you need to drop all your weapons, I can’t have you damaging my poor stomach, not when it’s so excited to meet you!”

 And indeed as he pat his generous middle it let out a low rumble. Zelda paled. She was going to meet her end inside this giant, and there was nothing she could do about it. She would be gone and it would be a long time before anyone figured out what had happened to her.

 She removed the short sword from her back and the knives on her calves. And also her satchel of pastries. Soohia would find them later, a final gift. When she looked up again everything was distorted. Great. Her first quest and she would go down not fighting but crying. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be a knight.

 “Very good.”

 The giant took a step forward and released Sophia, who ran to hug the now trembling Zelda.

 Sophia wanted to tell her it would be alright, but explaining would just be putting off the inevitable. Zelda probably wouldn’t even believe her. And she still wasn’t sure if Yonah would punish her for it. Maybe by eating Zelda for real. Just because Yonah couldn’t kill her, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to kill knights. He was in fact very much allowed to kill knights who tried to rescue her.

 So as Zelda cried into her shoulders, Sophia cried too. Fake tears but very convincing.

 No words were exchanged. Yonah placed his hand palm up and Zelda, head high, stepped on to it. She fell on her butt as he lifted her up, but her expression did not change. She would show no fear. Not of him. Not of death.

 “I want your word, promise Sophia will not be punished, and not be harmed!”

 The giant nodded, “I swear by the mountain gods of my kin.”

 At least most of the blood was gone, as he smiled wider and wider as she drew nearer his mouth. The fangs still had a red tinge to them and the smell lingered. It being from his own blood, that she had drawn, didn’t make it better. She nearly gagged as her torso was shoved into the maw.

 His tongue was so slimy, and it licked at her greedily. She didn’t know if it was a blessing that he hadn’t bit down on her. It was probably a worse death down in his stomach. Her heart beat faster and faster as she anticipated being swallowed down. The worst part was the giant was taking his damn time tasting her.

 Until one moment gravity shifted and she slid back, as the jaw widened so slightly so the tongue could help draw her back, though most of the work was from the giant's hands as he held her torso and pushed her gently.

 Sophia could barely watch as her childhood friend was swallowed down by her newest friend. It had taken a while but she did consider Yonah her friend. Unless he killed Zelda, then whatever connection that had would be destroyed forever. Thus she supervised as Yonah happily gulped down the rest of the knight, feet disappearing into his mouth and with a mighty swallow the weird swelling of his neck receded down, disappearing into his collar.

 He hiccuped, which looked painful and made Sophia smile. He smiled too.

 “I like a knight who doesn’t wear much armor! Much easier to get down, and tastier too!” He rubbed at his belly which was now full and happy.

 “Ok, you had your fun Yonah,” Sophia said, as he reached for her.

 The princess didn’t resist and let him hold her as he sat down at the kitchen table. He placed her on his shoulder and leaned back, undeservingly proud of himself. He’d done nothing. He was barely hurt! And he was acting like he defeated a proper enemy in battle.

 Sophia hopped off to his thigh and onto the table. Turning around, she crossed her arms. Yonah didn’t seem to care.

 “I mean it, you need to spit her out.”

 Yonah opened his eyes and looked up wistfully.

 “She’s not even struggling.”

 “Why would she? She’s accepted her death!”

 “Ah, well, I’m sure she’ll give me a good performance once my stomach acids start to go to work. They always do.”

 That got him a scream and a scramble but then.

 “I’ll never give you any such satisfaction!”

 Yonah sighed and patted his stomach. “Sure sure, whatever you say my little snack! You were delicious. Not as good as some other knights, but I’m not complaining.”

 This knight, Zelda, had actually been supremely tasty. And delightfully filling, so big and bulky, a challenge to swallow but so worth it. He wished he could keep her there longer. Ah well, he could always eat Sophia later if he felt peckish!

 Speaking of! The princess was back on his thigh, glaring at him with her warm brown eyes. Except they were so cold.

 “No, you’ll spit her out before she’s hurt at all!”

 Yonah sat up and held his hands with his palms forward.

 “Okay okay, Just give me a minute.”

 Sophia nodded, she knew Yonah had to catch his breath, or he might not be able to spit up her friend.

 “The blood was a little much,” Sophia critiqued, smirking.

 “Really? I thought it made me very savage looking.” He licked his lips again.

 “It did but it was gross!”

   Zelda didn’t think to do anything but curl up and cry, wait for the inevitable. It was humid and rank and dark. So completely dark. The slimy walls pushed at her, played with her. At least Sophia wasn’t in here.

 There was a lot of movement and talk from the giant, he was talking to Sophia! From the tone of his voice he barely cared that she was in his stomach, guess she was just food to him now. Wait. 

Were?

They talking about her?

 “I’m letting her out /mumble/ you owe me!”

 “Owe YOU- mumble- fucker!”

 “Cranky because I’m going to eat you?”

 The next shout from Sophia was incoherent as Zelda’s pulse roared in her ears. She’d let herself get eaten for nothing! Wait, no. The giant said let her out. Sophia had somehow convinced the giant to let them switch places! Well that wasn’t going to happen.

 A sharp movement at her shoulder told her the giant was poking at her.

 “I’m spitting you up now.”

 “THE HELL YOU ARE!”

 Sophia and Yonah stared at each other with disbelief.

 “You don’t really want to die do you?” Yonah poked his stomach again, a little warily.

 “Of course not! But I heard you. You’re going to eat Sophia!”

 The chuckles made her bounce.

 “I was going to regardless!”

 “Yonah” Sophia hissed lowly, “You’re not helping!”

 “You motherfucker! You lied!”

 Yonah stood up and walked over to the sink, which was still running. He plugged it and leaned over.

 And started hacking.

 The lump in his stomach didn’t move. He pressed a hand to his middle. Trying again. Blood rushed to his head and he wheezed. Nothing!

 Zelda spread out her arms and legs, bracing herself against the walls. It constricted, but was not strong enough.

 “You promised! You promised if you ate me you wouldn’t hurt Sophia!”

 A binding word like that was powerful and should he break it, there would be consequences. But if she didn’t die then that word meant nothing! And he could do what he wanted to Sophia.

 Yonah sat on the floor, trembling. Sophia ran up to him, her eyes almost alight with fire. She stood on his thigh and pounded on his stomach.

 “Zelda, don’t be a fool! He’s not going to hurt me! Don’t die for nothing!”

 Sophia looked up at Yonah with eyes full of hot tears. Yonah looked stricken, he didn’t want to kill Zelda either. He breathed. And spoke.

 “Z-Zelda was it? I really don’t want to kill you, and I could never hurt Sophia! I’ve got to spit you up.”

 “LIES!” She cried.

 Dammit Yonah! There was really no time to explain.

 “Zelda you have to trust me, Yonah’s my friend.” She glared at him, and he knew their friendship could end tonight.

 Yonah also knew that Zelda would pass out before his stomach did too much damage and he could spit her up then, just not unharmed. It was a last resort move.

 “Please, Zelda, I'm begging you.”

 Then she leaned her palms on the wizard, pressed into his stomach.

 “If you don’t let Yonah spit you up, I’ll go in and push you out!”

 “WHAT!” No. She wouldn’t dare. 

The air and flesh grew hotter around her and her skin was starting to sting.

 With a grunt Yonah stood up again. He wasn’t fully recovered, but he was going to make another attempt.

 “Last chance to make the return journey an easy one, I suggest you take it.” His voice rumbled. Then he made his voice soft as he rubbed his stomach. “I never intended to kill you, and definitely not Sophia.”

 Sophia had held onto his robes and scrambled up them, then leapt to the sink.

 Ok. Ok. As Zelda felt another twinge of pain her mind cleared for a second. It heard the pleading sorrowful tones.

 “Well!” The desperate voice of the giant flooded her chamber.

 “Ok!”

 She untensed, and as the stomach constricted, she held her hands in front of her and pushed off the bottom with her feet. Then, realizing she forgot to take a breath before the air was crushed out of her, she panicked. Her lungs burned, and even as her hands left the fleshy tunnel and touched air, she passed out.

 Yonah choked and felt the body of the human enter his chest, renewing him with strength. Filled fresh with resolve to get this human out of him alive, he doubled his efforts, and soon enough a body was sliding out his mouth.

 Sophia had anticipated this and was in the sink. She grabbed Zelda’s wrists and pulled. The larger woman fell on top of her in a heap. Sophia pulled off her helmet. Zelda’s  eyes were closed but she was breathing.

 A few seconds later she gasped back to consciousness. Sophia hugged her.

 “You’re so stupid!” Sophia was crying, “So so stupid!”

 Zelda laughed and then cowered as the shadow of Yonah’s head and shoulders loomed over them. His face was very red and his eyes a bit bloodshot and bleary from forcing himself to vomit. But he was smiling, even if he was wheezing.

 “You wouldn’t really have come after me, would you?”

 Sophia dropped Zelda with a splash and put her arms on her hips.

 “I sure would have!”

 She helped Zelda stand and led her to the faucet, which Yonah turned back on. Zelda took a cold and welcome shower, in her clothes which were quite possibly ruined. And Sophia finally explained everything. Especially about her curse. It took a lot of repeated statements about the half formed nature of the enchantment and the state of being glass, and saying over and over again that yes, it made her safe to be eaten.

 Once clean but still in shock, wrapped in a warm towel and given a cup of tea that Yonah brewed, which smelled much better than whatever Sophia had made. That batch had been left to steep too long anyway. They moved to the living room, Yonah in his armchair, Sophia in his lap, and Zelda on the coffee table.

 It wasn’t the most comfortable of midnight tea times, but Zelda noted how calm Sophia was as the half-giant played with her braided hair and stroked her back and arm. Almost like one would with a cat, only Sophia was a person. In fact she was a person Yonah was charged with protecting and teaching.

 Sophia had made her promise she would not tell anyone about the glass curse, for if that information made it to her father… Zelda agreed, Ben might just kill Yonah, but at the very least Sophia would be taken away, and her place was here. All her life she had wanted to learn magic, and now she had a teacher and a friend.

 Zelda was extended an invitation to spend the night, and she accepted without hesitation. As her adrenaline wore off, she was on the verge of falling asleep, and Sophia already nodded off a few times. In fact she startled away when Yonah stood up, but stayed in his hand as he carried her and Zelda to the bedroom.

 They were placed on the nightstand as he changed back into pajamas, and left to brush his teeth. Zelda walked over to examine the large golden birdcage. Through the bars she could see a suspended bed as well as a vanity and a few ornate chests and drawers.

 “So you are kept in a cage!” she said.

 “Not a locked one,” Sophia pointed out. “Yonah figured he’d uphold at least some of the traditions of evil giants. Though… I only use it about a two thirds of the time.”

 Zelda was about to ask why when Yonah sat on his bed and Sophia took a running jump and landed on his pillow.

 “You can sleep in my bed if you like, but if I were to make a suggestion-” She looked up at Yonah, who carefully lay down- “Yonah makes for a better one!”

 Having just taken a trip into the giant's stomach Zelda was not inclined to get so close to him. Sure, she let him pick her up, but being held and sleeping either on top of him or in his embrace were different things. Even if Sophia was looking at her with a hint of excitement, like they were kids again and this was a sleepover. It wasn’t. It was a botched fairytale.

 “I’ll take the cage,” she said, bowing her head a bit, “Goodnight Sophia. and you too, Yonah.”

 Of course the bed in the cage was luxurious, with the softest blankets and comfiest pillows. It swayed gently and Zelda started to question Sophia’s statement that Yonah was somehow a better bed, but fell asleep before the thoughts fully formed.

 ---

 She woke up dazed and confused, wondering where she was and how she had ended up in a cage! Alarm pulsed through her, chasing away her grogginess away and pulling along the memories of the previous day. The attempt at rescue, finding out Sophia was just fine. Being… eaten… and then spat up! That had all happened.

 Normally she started her mornings with exercises and stretches, so why should that change? The cage was roomy enough and the bars were perfect for doing things like pull-ups.

 “What are you doing?”

 Looking up, Zelda saw Sophia on the nightstand. Zelda had her legs hooked on the bars and was doing crunches. She did one more, then held herself up, one hand around a bar.

 “Knights don’t stay strong by slacking off,” Zelda said, and continued her reps.

 “I’ve been telling Sophia that she should work out in the mornings,” Yonah came to stand next to Sophia. Sophia whipped her head around.

 “But I don’t need to!” She cried.

 “It would be good if you could get around here without my carrying you,” he pointed out.

 “I do that just fine!”

 “You could do better, I don’t want you falling off things while I’m not here!”

 Zelda decided to tune them out. This didn’t concern her. Until.

 “Fine!” and Sophia climbed onto the cage and to the door. Yonah disappeared out of the room.

 “Zelda, could you show me some exercises that might make me a better climber?”

 Zelda dropped to the floor. “I certainly could!”

 “I’ve never known Her Royal Highness to be so easily convinced to do something she didn’t want to do,” Zelda pointed out as she showed Sophia how to use the bars of her cage to build up her arm strength.

 “Yeah well, I only agreed to after he agreed to do so with me.”

 Yonah returned about ten minutes later, freshly shaved. Out of a dresser, he fished a pair of overalls and thick plaid shirt, and from a wardrobe on top took out a smaller outfit, which he handed off to Sophia. Zelda felt suddenly self conscious in her undersilks, which weren’t exactly fresh and clean, nor proper clothes.

 Turns out Yonah had a set of clothes for her as well. Or at least the magic wardrobe did. Nothing fancy, but Sophia wasn’t wearing normal royal apparel. In fact she had on overalls. Except for her long intricate braid and sparkling golden tiara, she looked like a commoner. A farmer.

 The wizard did too, though with his bulky figure and hairy arms he looked more like a lumberjack who wouldn’t be out of place living in a cabin in the woods, not a grand magic tower. Zelda was still the odd one out but at least she wasn’t in what were essentially underwear.

 “Are you going to stay for breakfast?” Sophia asked.

 Oh she absolutely was. There was no way she wanted to make the trek back to the city on an empty stomach. SHIT. 

 “The pastries!” she wailed with despair.

 Yonah and Sophia looked at each other in confusion.

  Back in the kitchen, Zelda retrieved the satchel, which was right where she had dropped it last night. Miserably she showed Sophia, who understood her sorrow immediately.

 “You brought me koftashen?” she looked at Yonah, “These were my favorite from back home! But they do taste the best when fresh.”

 Yonah had been watching curiously and one corner of his mouth turned up.

 “How long ago were these baked?” he asked.

 “About a day,” Zelda said, “almost exactly a day.”

 “Perfect,” he held out his hand expectantly.

 Zelda took back the koftashen protectively. What if he just ate them! They could still be decent, even if they spent the night in the sack. They wouldn’t even be a proper bite for the wizard; he couldn’t appreciate them!

 “Oh! Do give them to him, Zelda,” Sophia didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

 She hesitated but trusted her friend.

 With the pastries in his palm his cupped them in his hands. Yonah’s eyes began to glow and he brought his hands to his mouth. Zelda was about to protest when Yonah blew into his hands and light flashed between his fingers. When he opened them up the savory smells spread out in a wave.

 “My friend Shoshana is a baker, she invented this spell,” he said, “As long as it’s only been a day or two, it can make most baked goods nearly fresh again. It doesn’t work on everything, but I had to try!”

 Sophia had gotten out a small plate and took the hot koftashen from Yonah’s hand. Small for Yonah that is, since it was a serving platter. “Smells like it worked!” she declared.

 Yonah worked quickly to set up before the goods cooled down. First he placed the princess and knight on the kitchen table, which had on top of it a smaller human sized table. It had only one chair, and no plates or utensils. Then He got the additional arrangements and to Zelda’s surprise, two more human sized chairs. 

 She watched with fascination as the half-giant took a pouch from his overall’s pocket and took out a small pinch of powder which he dabbed onto his tongue. Then he placed his hands on the table and said a spell in a language she recognized as giant but could not understand the words (Knights learn some giant, but mostly phrases needed to challenge them to battle). There was a puff of grey smoke and the wizard was hanging off the edge of the table but hauled himself up. Again Zelda was impressed, this time by his strength.

 He was still very large, probably a foot and half taller than herself, but should he claim to be human Zelda would believe it. Even with his very giant-folk fangs. There were plenty of humans with strange anatomical features, usually a manifestation of fey blood. Fairies certainly loved to fuck with humans in every way possible.

 It was definitely weird for all of them to be sitting at the human table. Yonah might look convincingly human, but he was meant to be a half-giant. Also, she and Sophia watched in anticipation as Yonah took a bite out of a koftashen. There was a palpable expectation for him to like Sophia’s favorite local confection.

 Inside the soft dough was a mixture of beef and lamb, and there was a crunch of collard greens. He recognized a lot of the spices as the flavor spread across his tongue, though there were aspects to the flavor he could not identify. He couldn’t call it a new favorite of his, but

 “This is very delicious!” he declared and Sophia beamed, finally taking a bite of her own, Zelda following suit.

 Yonah finished his rather quickly and got up to make himself the rest of his breakfast while the humans managed to fill up on koftashen. He also got himself a cup of coffee. Sophia didn’t drink it, but he asked Zelda, and she did.

 “I’m sorry this quest was a dud,” Sophia said, and Zelda stiffened.

 Should she talk about her failure so soon?

 “It’s not your fault, I should have done more research,” Zelda said, “I got a little ahead of myself at the prospect of rescuing a friend.”

 Sophia took a second pastry.

 “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t eventually rescue someone royal.” She said it with her mouth full, and Zelda tried not to laugh, “Just not me. If I had to guess” she tapped the koft against her chin, “Probably Sasha!”

 “S-Sasha?”

 The wizard returned but didn’t interrupt the conversation, and tucked into his breakfast of buckwheat and fish.

 “They’re 18 now, and I know they want to have a fairytale.” Sophia took another bite before continuing, and Zelda was way too flustered to respond in the meantime, “And I know you have a crush on them.”

 Yonah almost choked, and Zelda nearly fainted.

 “Oh come on, I saw how you two danced at The Party.”

 Zelda remembered that very clearly, but it was 5 years ago and Sophia still remembered it too. How many other people knew?

 “And how you both hugged and cried the day you left for knight school.”

 It was embarrassing having her feelings exposed in front of what was essentially a stranger, even if he was Sophia’s friend. But Sophia’s words filled her with hope. How could she have been so stupid! Of course she was meant to complete a tale with Sasha. Everything made perfect sense, now that she thought about it.

 Finally it was time to leave. They all went up to the workshop and Zelda put on her armor. Yonah had moved it into a workbench drawer last night, though Zelda couldn’t think when he could have done that.

 “Shiny things left out tend to be stolen by the giant crows,” Yonah said, “They don’t bother people much, but you have to be careful with your stuff.”

 Nechesh was waiting in the orchard, overstuffed on magic apples but able to travel. Though she wouldn’t let Zelda mount her until she convinced Yonah to give them a bushel of apples to travel with. While Yonah gathered the apples, Sophia and Sasha said their farewells.

 “Guess I’ll see you at the wedding!” Zelda said. 2 months was much shorter than 5 years but it still felt like a long time before seeing her friend again.

 “Make sure you dance with Sasha,” Sophia advised, and Zelda nodded.

 Yonah finished fascening the basket to Nechesh and Zelda climbed on her back.

 Spurring her horse to a trot, she took one look back to wave goodbye. The little princess and her guardian wizard waving from the garden looked picture perfect.

 “I’ll save one dance for you,” Zelda said before out of earshot.  

 “I’ll hold you to that!”

 [FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

[baekchelor]

ｔｈｅ ｂｒｅａｋ ｕｐ (ｉ)

pairing: george mackay x reader   genre: gossip girl! au, angs, slight smut summary: Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite. Spotted: George Mackay at Heathrow, homeward New York. What could possibly make George abandon his self-imposed exile at his hometown and venture back to Manhattan? We bet Y/N wants to know. After all, George flew the city all of a sudden, while Y/N Y/L/N shed tears for the dearly departed. word count: 1.3k a/n: hello hello, welcome to the firt glimpse at my new George fic. This one is going to be way more angsty than the others, but I think you’ll enjoy it a lot. I’ll be posting on Mondays. So wait for the first chapter 🤭🤭 Lots of love and I hope y’all are staying safe. xoxo Ps. Y/N/I/L stands for Your Name Intial Letter

❝ Just so you know, there are a few things that I consider sacred. The back of a limo is one of them.❞

ｐｒｅｌｕｄｅ ｈｏｗ ｔｈｅｙ ｓｔａｒｔｅｄ

Resolute. To no longer yearn for his touch, to not pronounce his name and neglect any idea of him. Determined to obliterate it all, each kiss on the forehead, on the flushed pink cheeks, on the lips. Every smile, every gaze... just everything. In such mood, Y/N Y/L/N hops out of the black car, chin held high and a smirk curving her pretty little face.

"Where's Dean?"

As soon as her ears register foresaid name, her mouth neglects the newfound smile. Dean. Known in the Upper East Side as the fairy-tale couple, they grew a reputation of mythic and enviable love. Manhattan's Queen B and her Charming-Chapman Prince were an item throughout their years at Columbia. Both their parents talked about wedding plans during their jointed dinners —Y/N has even tried the fit of the Charles-Chapman's engagement ring heirloom.

The whole shebang was perfect. But turns out fairy tales end when they do for a reason. Y/N matured, found new horizons, and although Dean was nothing but goodness in her privileged life, he felt merely juvenile.

"We broke up."

"Beg you pardon?

"I don't want to talk about it, George," with a pointed look, she makes her way inside the club, barely glancing at his intense blue stare. "I just want to forget. That's what this place is for, right?"

George laughs under his breath, a hint of malice tangled in the whisper, "Indeed."

For a change, Y/N agrees with George tonight. She wants to forget Dean, misbehave, and to achieve that purpose, a substantial amount of liquor must be drowned. Alcohol is supposed to transform pain into nonsense, scattering the memories of young first love into the strobe lights and waning them within the swarm of lively bodies on the dance floor. Whether or not George Mackay is Dean's British best friend, Y/N couldn't care less. The boy is new in the city, aching for adventures, and a well-known playboy who wouldn't ditch several bottles of Moët in the sake of friendship boundaries. Hence Y/N shrugs away Dean's remaining memories, and delicately —with her characteristic grace and elegance, takes a seat in George's private boot.

The Brit orders two bottles of champagne and slurs to the waitress' ear to keep them coming. The blonde winks at him, making sure to sway her hips as she departures, pretending to be a star in a catwalk. It makes Y/N roll her eyes. She met George Mackay for the first time three days ago, during brunch at The Palace, and even then, with family and the elite present, girls threw themselves at him. Pathetic.

How different could she be from those girls, though? If she's alone with George, at some club in the West Village, just an hour past her breakup with charming Dean.

Trapped in the line of thoughts, Y/N gulps the entire flute of Moët. She doesn't even wince, eyes fixated in a couple slow dancing to a beat song. That used to be her and Dean, that could've been her and Dean right now.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, princess," George's voice catches her attention. "Downing champagne until you knock yourself unconscious is not the way to deal with a breakup."

"Fine," she rests her elbow over her legs, cupping one side of her face as she nods toward the remaining bottle. "Help me then."

George laughs, "No way. One of us needs to be able to think straight tonight."

"Have one, and I promise that I'll stop for now."

George licks his lips and brings the flute towards his mouth. As he tilts his head back and exposes his bare neck, Y/N is victim of a warm feeling at the pit of her stomach.

He sets the flute back on the table, smiling darkly, "I know you don't wanna talk about what happened but…"

"Relief," Y/N answers, eyes merged in the writhing silhouettes moving at the rhythm of the music, "I feel relief." Is hypnotizing: the music, the dance moves, the flashing lights and the rush of welfare running through her veins; is everything and nothing at the same time and she wants to be part of it, she wants to have a night to do all the stuff she gave up to be Dean's perfect girlfriend, "Y'know, I got moves."

"Really? Then why don't you get up there?

"No," she kind of, sort of, giggles. Y/N Y/L/N never giggles. "I'm just saying I've got moves."

"C'mon, you're ten times hotter than any of those girls."

There's lurk in her voice as she answers, "I know what you're doing, George," but then something mild forms inside every pore of her skin when George tilts his head, looking at her with defiant ocean eyes. They seem dangerous, like a tide willing to drag her to the bottom of the ocean. Yet, the blue colour is appealing, beautiful even, and the pink streak across her porcelain cheeks, assures her that the distress is nothing but adrenaline. "You really don't think I'll go up there."

"I know you won't do it."

That's it, that's all it takes. George likes playing games? Well, she'll prove to him she can play too —and better. Curving a seductive smile toward him, Y/N grabs his hand, "Dance with me."

She's not surprised when George encircles a hand around her waist and leads her into the ocean of people; she had discovered, just now, that he understands him, to the extend that she might even be able to read his mind. What comes as a surprise, however, is the way her body reacts to him. George's palms rest on her hips, slowly guiding her figure to grind against his in rhythm with the music.

With each beat, her thoughts blur together further. Dean's face has left its perpetual place in her mind, and the crowd, the lights, all are gone too. In her world, it seems to only exist George, and them both, pressed up against each other —George's fingers digging into her skin, her hands tangled in his light-brown locks... But boundaries can't be damned that easily. Although George Mackay isn't known for his excellent sense of morality, he still is Dean's best friend, for long enough to neglect the unknown thing fluttering around his stomach. So before he has time to regret it, George guides Y/N out of the crowd, straight to the back of his limo.

He will take her home. Right now.

"Thanks for the lift home," she breathes out, confused over the abrupt shift between them, but unable to stop holding onto his warm gaze. Get lost in his eyes seems effortless.

"Thanks, for…tonight."

Leaning closer, as they stare into each other's eyes, no one can't think of anything, anyone else. It could be the alcohol in their systems, or the rush in their blood, or perhaps is the erratic beat of their hearts and the goosebumps emerging the moment George's fingertips lay on her. But Dean's voice screaming at George to stop this madness because she's still the girl he loves, and he still holds her dear to his heart, goes mute. And Y/N's inner self, reminding her that George is not a perfect gentleman neither prince charming, is shoved away in a closet, one as secured as the one where Y/N/I/L stores her Manolo's.

Suddenly, his hands are at the small of her back, foreheads pressed together, and soft lips sucking on hers. Y/N's mouth opens in a gasp, and George takes this opportunity to insert his tongue. He tastes like a variety of alcohols, one of them being the champagne she forced him to drink earlier, and it is intoxicating.

He pulls back. Both of them panting as they stare into each other's glazed-over eyes, "Are you sure?"

Y/N doesn't breath out an answer, her mind is working to sluggishly to form coherent words. She merely holds onto his shoulders for support and gives a soft peck to his lips.

Leaning down, George growls into her neck as his fingers travel south to play with the hem of her dress.

Oh-Oh, Upper East Sidders, turns out that for G and Y/N/I/L, boundaries can be damned that easily.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Heads up, y’all. I’ve got some serious stuff coming up. So, I can’t promise this on my day off. Chances are, we’re going to have a week off. Sorry in advance <3 

As always, feedback is incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I am sure to see it. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. P meets V. The whole shebang. Nightmare mentions. Minor angst? Not enough editing. That’s all, I believe. 

Word Count: Roughly 4,000

More of his weight pinned you down to the mattress as his mouth dropped to the corner of yours. All softness was forgotten when he made full contact. Demanding you yield to the rough kiss. As if you'd stood a chance of resisting the moment his tongue slid against your lips.

The hunter braced himself on one elbow. Never pulling his mouth from yours. Letting his free hand pick up where it'd left off the day he'd had you braced against the Impala. His light slide against the edge of your rib cage made goosebumps raise along your flesh. Almost tender. Slower than you'd expected. When he finally spread the broad grip over the peak of your breast, you moaned into his mouth.

Your own hands were busy as he massaged the slope. Desperate to feel what he had to offer. One stroking through the silky chestnut locks over you. So soft it was criminal. The other trailing across his back. Getting a taste of the warm, solid flesh that moved against you. A feral growl left the hunter when it slipped lower, digging into his sweatpants covered ass. Only to discover he was that firm all over.

“Fuck, Y/N...” Sam jerked away from you. Sitting up to his knees just long enough to tear his shirt off his torso. You only got a glimpse of the lightly haired, toned chest before he was moving again. Those fingers you were once sure would cause your demise wrapped around your arm. Guiding you up until you were straddling his thighs. The thick bulge ground against your bottom as soon as your hips shifted.

His mouth pressed wet, open mouthed kisses along your throat. Teeth and tongue grazing against your salty skin. Careful to avoid the still healing bite mark. Long, strong fingers roved over the bare flesh of your back. Holding you so close, your breasts smashed into his hard chest.

When he couldn't reach anymore, you were tugged backwards. Just enough to give him access to the soft skin he was craving. As his tongue traced around your nipple, your head flew back. Arching the skin closer to his lips.

But, he didn't take the hint. Instead, his mouth moved to the other breast. Giving it the same level of attention. Something just under satisfying.

“Sam, I swear to God,” You gasped out, yanking at his hair in frustration. Needing the intensity he'd started with. However, he found a level of longanimity you loathed.

“You're so impatient.” Came the teasing breath across the flesh he'd dampened. “Maybe wanna wait just a little longer, Y/N.” A soft punishment for the way you'd avoided him time and time again.

“Remember the hard, fast sex?” He wasn't the only one who could play ball. Your hips twisted forward. Grinding your clit against his erection. A harsh breath was sucked between his teeth at the deep rub. “Still what I was going for- oh!” He finally latched his mouth around your nipple. Tugging it with his teeth before soothing it with a large kiss. Successfully making you drop what you'd been saying as the hot arousal shot through your body.

Fast? Sam took the word to heart. His arms held you against him as he lifted up to his knees before dropping you against the mattress. A squeal left you when you fell down. Any scolding was forgotten, though, as his fingers tore at your panties. Ripping the seam as he tugged them sharply down your legs. As you moved to aid, you were pushed back down.

“Don't move, Y/N...” His order settled into your bones.

A deep kiss to the soaked folds nearly made you fly off the bed. Incapable of following his command to the letter. And he couldn't have that.

Sam's dense arm draped itself over your middle. Pinning you right where he wanted you as he bent in. Letting his hair tickle against the sensitive skin around your mound as he grew more bold with his laving. Your head fell back, just under his pillow. Reveling in the way that the wet drag of his tongue seemed to stroke every nerve ending.

“You're...”A broken gasp left your lips as he brushed just to the right of your clit, “aw...awfully good...good at that.” His arrogant smile could be felt against you as you panted. Savoring the titillating moment. “Guess you...you weren't getting tips from the porn.” Your hands tangled in the blanket, messing up his bed. Sweat beaded against your skin as your thigh trembled. “Thank God.”

Words were lost to you when you felt the tip of his finger pressing home. Your hips bucked into his forearm as he used the digit to work you open. A second finger followed a moment later. Stretching you wider as they pumped inside of you. Matching the rhythm he set with his tongue. Not giving you any kind of mercy as you clenched around his fingers. Moaning out his name when they crooked up, right into your sweet spot.

“That's my girl,” He murmured huskily, lifting his head to watch you fall apart with those deep, dark hazel eyes. Taking in the ragged cry that escaped your lips as you trembled in his grasp. Too large palm wrapping around your thigh to keep your leg high before he dove back in. Giving you no chance to recover.

It didn't take long for you to give him exactly what he needed, “Sam... His name mingled with a strangled groan. “Pl...please..” Even your whispered begging from your dream didn't compare to the actual sound of you strung out because of him.

“Please what?” Sam rasped out, wanting to hear the sound of it one more time.

“That rough...” A heavy pant broke up the demand. “Rough sex would be great.” You managed, swallowing heavily at the accomplishment.

Your eyes were locked on his when he looked up to you. Lust blown pupils staring holes into him. Breasts rose and fell heavily with every deep breath. H/C locks haloed around your face. Sticking to your forehead from the sweat that had arisen there. As if he could refuse that sight.

In what had to be record time, his pants were gone. Boxers followed. You let your eyes wander over him when he climbed off the bed. Taking in every lean, taunt muscle as he stalked to find a condom.

He grinned when he saw your hungry orbs taking him in. Not the least bit shy, “Like what you see?”

“I bet I'll like the feel of it better.” You teased, sitting up on your elbows to watch. Zeroing in on the proud erection that waited for you. “A hell of a lot better.”

A shaky sigh left you at the display. He was entirely proportionate. Long and thick. Veins popping out beneath the velvety flesh. Proud and waiting for more of your attention.

He adorned the protection, slowly. Watching the way you licked your lips as his hand worked over the erection. When he was ready, he stalked forward. Pleased to see you meet him in the middle. Every bit as eager as he was.

It was nothing for you to climb into his lap. To reach time and grasp him. Line his dick up and press home. A small, whine of pleasure leaving your lips at the slow invasion.

Another breathy groan left Sam as the wet, soft heat encased him tightly. His eyes never left the way your lips parted. Your E/C clenched close the deeper he went. Each rock giving you both more of the sweet friction you craved until he filled you completely.

Your lips ghosted over his. Just barely brushing as you breathed deeply. The almost kiss somehow more erotic than any actual had been. He gave you the time to adjust to his size. Letting you tease him with the soft grazes. Then, you moved. A small lift and drop. But, it was enough.

His hands came around your back. The tight grip forcing your hips to lift. Creating more friction. Taking control in the best sort of way. Your mouth fell open at the change. Grasping into his hair and onto his shoulders was the most you could manage.

“That's it.” The hunter coached, lowering his hands down to your ass for a better grasp. Forcing you to move faster. Harder. He squeezed the flesh rough enough you were sure it was going to leave a mark.

“Sam...” You were going to say more, but a particularly hard thrust made you lose any train of thought.

Then, you dared look into his lust glazed eyes. Any hope of coherent speaking was gone after that moment as he slammed your body against his roughly. Skin slapped sweaty flesh. His mattress creaked under the weight of bodies meeting. Stuttering breaths met with choked gasps.

Losing yourself in him was easy. Letting the delicious pressure build inside of you with every thrust of your hips. You never wanted it to end.

But, he shifted your hips. The changed angle shoved him against the sensitive spot inside of you. He was almost growling at how you clenched around him as you slipped closer to the edge. His thumb moved down between your legs. Trying to help you get there.

A low, choked cry left you when you came. Your tangled fingers yanked at Sam's hair as he watched your face contort with pleasure. Small murmurings of encouragement leaving his lips as you rode him through the high.

One thrust. Two. Sam didn't make it past three. He groaned out his pleasure into your shoulder when his orgasm hit. Listening to the soothing, husky tones of your voice as you held him through it. Not so far gone that he didn't feel the tension starting to return to your body.

The moment he loosened his grip, you were on the move. Knees weak, you set to grabbing your shirt and panties. Ignoring the heat of his eyes on you while he removed the ruined rubber.

“Goodnight, Sam.” And that was all he got as you made your escape. He flopped down onto his bed after cleaning himself up, and stared at the ceiling. Going over what had just happened in his mind.

The sex had been great. More than great, really. He wanted- needed more. With a sigh, he shut off the light. Not bothering to throw any clothes back on. Knowing that what had just happened was going to further haunt him in his dreams.

–

“Sam?” Castiel looked at the younger Winchester in confusion. And then understanding replaced the perplexed look.

“Get out of my head, Cas.” The younger Winchester warned lightly, making the angel frown. Only to be replaced by another look of understanding.

“You don't want Dean to know?” He looked at Sam thoughtfully. Trying to decide how to best approach the situation. Honesty won out. “He already suspects, you know.”

“Suspects doesn't mean he knows for sure.” Sam stated sipping from his beer. Staring at the fridge. Refusing to budge an inch. “And frankly? I'd rather not deal with those repercussions right now.” Instead, he was stewing over the fact that you'd only gone back to him one other time in the span of a week. And that time? You'd left with a frown on your face. Even after three orgasms. He didn't get it.

“I could always find out for you...” Cas trailed off, trying to be helpful. Only making it that much worse.

“No thanks.” Sam tightened his lips lightly in a forced, awkward smile. Silence filled the room as each being zoned out. After a minute, though, he was bothered by Cas's silence. Typically, he wouldn't have dropped it so fast. When he looked back, the brown brows were pulled down in a frown.“What's wrong?”

“She's dreaming.” The angel's face darkened as he listened in. Then fell as it morphed.

“Is she okay?” Another flashback hit Sam. You bent and broken as you waited for him to get Dean. The nightmares.

“She's going to need your brother.” Castiel didn't seem to be thrilled to report the news to the other brother. Sensing the concern from the hunter beside him.

“How do you know?” Sam fought to focus on the fact that something was wrong. And not the fact that he wasn't the one you needed to run to your side.

“I can her... calling for him.” His head turned to look towards the hall where you were located. “For her friends. For me. Even for you... but him the most.”

“Me?” His brows lifted at that. Almost relieved. Until he realized what it meant. He'd never been someone you could turn to for anything other than a fight, or a few lays. “That bad?”

“It's not pretty.” Castiel stated solemnly, wincing lightly at whatever he'd witnessed.

“Can you stop it?” The image of you standing in front of him grew more prominent. Crushed for a moment. Sam, please...

A nod was his answer. As he followed the angel to the room, he found himself wondering just what it could be. How haunted you really were. How he could stop it without the aid of a celestial being.

You were still in your sleep as they entered. Stiff as though rigor mortis had already set in. The rapid rise and fall of your chest paired with the wrinkled forehead were the only indications you were still living. There was no tossing or turning. Just frozen fear.

It was immediate once the angel touched you. The tension seeped out of your body. The hard lines faded from your face. A soft sigh drifted from your lips.

“She won't remember it.” Castiel whispered softly. Trying to comfort the younger brother.

“This time.” Sam reminded him. Looking down at the peace in your face. “This isn't the first...probably not the last.” A gentle caress of your face only made you roll away from him to get comfortable. “Let's get out of here before she wakes up...”

“You're actually concerned for her.” The angel waited until they were in the hall to speak again. Looking over at his friend as they walked away from the door. “And you don't like it.

“No.” Sam frowned. Stuffing his hands into his pockets. Not bothering to lie to Cas. “I don't.”

“I know it's easier to ignore-”

“Cas?” Dean's voice interrupted the lecture he was going to get from the celestial being. Back from his beer run. “Sam? What are you two doing back here?”

“Sam was showing me how to work the Netflix.” Cas stated after a second of thought. Covering their asses. The older brother squinted, but accepted it to some degree.

Castiel gave Sam a look that said he'd keep quiet before he moved towards Dean. A wink of blue eyes flashed behind the hunter's back. His way of encouraging the younger man. That angel is something else.

Not for the first time that night, Sam's mind turned back to you. He kept flipping through the memories of your porn star worthy moans, you fighting the vampires, and the vulnerabilities that came from your past. Three different women all combined into one package. And he was sure there was more he was missing. God give me strength...

–

“Sam?” Your voice penetrated the sleep fog that coated his mind. “You awake?”

“Am now.” He smacked his lips lightly, turning over to see you sprawled out beside him in the dark. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Couldn't sleep.” You rested your head on your propped up arm. All too comfortable on his bed. “Figured you'd be awake, but obviously I was wrong.” You sighed deeply, moving to get up. “Go back to bed-”

“Don't.” You stopped moving, and looked back over at him in surprise. “I'm awake enough...” The tone gave away what he was thinking.

“Good.” You moved your body over to his. Just barely brushing your lips against his. And then you ruined it, “Why were you and Cas by my room, tonight, Sammy?”

“What-”

“Dean.” Your E/C eyes stared directly into his. Not giving him a chance to look away. Demanding an answer.

“Why's it matter?” He turned over to his back, taking up a majority of his bed. Almost making you fall off.

“An angel happens to be in the bunker when I've gotten the best sleep I've ever had? The same angel that was spotted with you by my room? That's a coincidence, is it?” He didn't respond to the accusation. You pinched his obnoxiously large bicep, making him yelp.

“Ow!” He hissed out, gripping your hand tightly. Stopping the next one. “What the hell was that for?”

“Whatever you made Castiel do!”  You glared at him in the dark. Squirming to pull free. “He shouldn't be wasting his grace on me, you jack ass.”

“I didn't make him do anything!” Sam grumbled, telling only a half truth. He had asked. “He heard your dream. Said it wasn't pretty. So, he stopped it.” He rubbed the muscle you'd tore into with a glower gracing his face. “He didn't even tell me what he accidentally peeped in on. He just said he didn't like it.” Mostly true. You stared at him distrustfully. Waiting for him to crack. When he didn't, you nodded.

“Fine.” You stated simply. Moving to roll away. “I believe you.”

“You should. I'm a stand up, guy.” Your unimpressed look as you rested on the edge of his bed made those killer dimples flash your way. “Most of the time.” He amended.

“I should go and try to go back to sleep.” You sighed, moving to leave.

“Y/N. Wait.” His voice made you turn to look at him for the second time. “You didn't just come in here for that, did you?” He meant for it to sound sexy. Husky, perhaps. Instead, he sounded a little too squeaky.

“Why,” A teasing smile formed on your lips, “is Sam Winchester really making the first move, again? I thought I'd see a cold day in hell first. Or, maybe an alien invasi-”

“Shut up.” He laughed, pulling you on top of him. Stopping only when your nose brushed against his. “That mouth of yours drives me crazy.”

“And to think,” Your arms came up to move his hair from his eyes. “I haven't even let you see all that I can do with it...”

Your lips pressed against his jaw softly. Teasingly. When you got to his throat, you nipped lightly before soothing it with a warm kiss. Nothing that would remain until morning, but enough to make him take in a sharp breath. Your fingers stroked the base of his neck tenderly before beginning their downward descent.

“Maybe another night.” His fingers dug themselves into your sides to still you. When you moved to protest, he rolled you under him.

“And tonight?” You let your breath drift over the superficial wound. Earning a small shiver.

“I want you on your hands and knees.” His low voice made you hum in appreciation.

“And then?”

“And then, I want to make you scream.” The words were almost as good as when he touched you.

“Dean's home.” Came the breathless response.

“I know.” His mouth widened in a naughty grin. Your toes curled in response. “Guess you're going to have to do it into the pillow.”

“I'm starting to believe the only thing that really gets you off is trying to kill me.” But, you didn't pull away when he moved in to kiss you passionately. Instead, you met him half way there...

The sex was hard and fast. Sam had won. You'd shouted into his pillow not just once. But, four times. A new record.

“I don't know how you can move,” He huffed out, tucking his arm behind his head. Proud of himself. The smirk you'd once hated so much lining his face.

“I'm stealing a shirt.” You warned as you two pulled apart; ignoring his comment. Not letting a moment of weakness show.

“That's fair.” He looked down at your wrecked one on his floor. His impatience had gotten the best of him. “What do you want done with that one?”

“Trash it.” You stated, pulling out a simple gray t-shirt from his closet. “I'm convinced you're half giant. Hagrid really your old man?” The material hung off your frame. It was ridiculous.

“Hilarious.” Keeping your eyes off of his nude chest was harder than you'd expected. But, you managed it.

“I try.” You sounded off. The more you spoke, the more he zeroed in on it.

“Okay, what?” Sam finally demanded, sitting up more on his elbow. Looking more than a little worried.

“What, what?” The panties he'd slid off your legs earlier were tugged back on.

“What's eating at you?” He demanded, his hand fixing his sex wrecked hair in one sweep. Maybe he's part merman rather than giant, you thought enviously. You tried to fix yours, but you were sure it didn't work nearly as well. “Well?”

“Nothing's bothering me, Sam.” You lied through your teeth. Every time you were with him, the feeling only got stronger. It was wrong.

“That's bull.” His hazel eyes, that looked more green in that moment, narrowed on you. “What? You still think that I had something to do with the angel? 'Cause he'll tell you-”

“It's not that...” Or it wasn't until he'd reminded you.

“Then what?”

“Nothing you did.” You answered after a second. Still not putting it into words. At his exasperated sigh, you came clean. “Don't you feel like something is...missing?”

“Missing?” His brow went up. Freezing rather than getting up as he'd moved to do. “Like what?”

“See, this is why I didn't want to talk about it.” You rubbed your forehead. Noting the way his chest puffed out in masculine insult. “Your inner alpha male is already taking it the wrong way.”

“You didn't answer my question.” He pointed out, his jaw working so hard you were sure his teeth were ground into nubs.

“This is going to sound cheesy as hell, so stay with me here.” Your hand came out and landed on his chest. “It's not you-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Just when you thought he couldn't look anymore offended. “The 'it's  not you, it's me' slew?” With that, he sprang from the bed. Reaching for his boxers in disgust.

“Trust me,” Your hand covered your heart, “I'm not thrilled with it, either. But, sometimes? It fits...this is one of those times.” You shrugged, your hands coming out in a helpless gesture. Only earning yourself a filthy look over his shoulder. “You're better than great in bed,” You tried comforting his ego. It wasn't working based on the scowl. “Seriously. Best lay I've ever had. Every girl should experience-”

“Are you done?” He huffed out. Yanking a t-shirt over his own head.

“I'm just trying to clarify.” You held your hands up in surrender. “It really is just me-”

“Y/N.” His eyes were filled with something close to loathing. “I think you should go.”

“Night, Grouch Ass.” You muttered, leaving his room with a sigh. Looking both ways to ensure you were clear, you began the walk of shame. “You should have just run away,” You grumbled to yourself. Crossing your arms over your chest. As if that would save you from the cold shoulder. “God, Y/N...why'd you have to go and open your mouth?”

Tag: @burningmusicmachine​ @missmarrinette​ @sherlockedtash88​ @rathersuspiciousbumblebee​ @sasbb23​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @baby-bunker-pie​ @neii3n​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @malfoysqueen14 @calaofnoldor

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​

[hoe-cuspocus]

* ╰    —— wow, odette doge sure has changed. i guess she  is feeling isolated from the other ravenclaw members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so charming & tender,  now they just seem isolated & obstinate.  guess being a pure-blood isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine. 

okay SO ! odette is kind of a new character i’m flushing out so while her intro won’t be thoroughly detailed, it’s one of those instances where i’m feeling out a character and we’re going to see where it goes from this one base idea i have and hopefully it goes well so enjoy these tiny little bullet points about my damaged little baby !

DOGE, that’ rings a bell doesn’t it? oh yeah it’s because theyre a BIG name in the wizarding world. remember ? close intimate friends of the dumbledore family, been in the ministry’s highest ranks since forever, the whole shebang. they come from old money, a long line of prestige and well, let’s just say if you’re born into the family you’ve got your life set. 

one would expect that since odette was born into this lavish life, she’d be a stupid little stuck up witch growing up but she actually wasn’t. her life was as close to perfect as could be. she had a really amazing older brother that took care of her, parents that were kind and loving but still stern and striving to raise great kids, they were well off but still humble... there was no complaints at all. but life doesn’t stay happy forever and looking back it’s all really a highlight reel. 

the whole blood purity thing was never a topic of conversation in her home? everyone sort of assumed they were on the same page. like human is human, if you have magic, GREAT doesn’t make you more or less of a wizard if you come from a long line of magic blood, it just means you’re magical but like awesome ! they underestimated the weight of this subject and were way WAY too cavalier about the subject, to the point where it got them into trouble. BIG trouble. they became targets early on in the war, their outspoken natures posing a threat to the cause. i mean think about it, an influential family actually normalizing the fraternization between muggles and wizards? APPALLING. could not be tolerated. elphias jr, the heir to the thrown and renowned stubborn jackass, decided to take a stand for those that really didn’t have a fighting chance at the time. he was gunning for the position of minister for magic and decided to bank his campaign on muggle born rights, turning to activism in the late days of his campaigning. his family wasn’t against it, but they were apprehensive. like come on bro, these are dark times dont expose yourself!! but he didn’t listen, didn’t want to. so he led a rally..... and didn’t come back. two, three days came and went, no elphias. odette let it slide, he probably went out to celebrate after the rally... muggle london was always his favorite place to get lost in..... a few too many firewhiskeys takes a while to recover from..... until that HORRID morning came. odette had spent the night at a friends house, sipping on giggle water and dishing about quidditch players and boys at school she fancied, but it was time to head home. as she strolled up the long narrow road leading up to her estate, surely thinking her mother would nag her for being late, she came across the unthinkable. a bloody body, discarded like trash just in front of the doge estate gates, their family crest casting a haunting shadow over the boy. it was daunting but she just knew. from that moment on, it’s all pretty fuzzy. she knows her blood curdling screams were what alerted her parents, suddenly aurors where everywhere. she remembers how cold his skin was, how he didn’t look like elphias but how she just KNEW. she remembers the pain most of all. 

that day shifted everything for her. listen she used to be bubbly, kind, a little prissy just because she was young stupid and well.. she WAS RICH OKAY it sort of came with the territory. she considered herself a little bit like royalty because people just fawned over her when she walked into a room. but after this... she turned cold, skeptic, cynical, confused.... she doesn’t know who to trust. she’s mad.. she’s paranoid and pretty much going insane.

hints of her old self still remain though. she’s still kind like she won’t snap at anyone and she knows her place but there is a crossroad she still has to face: her place in the war and this world. AT THE MOMENT, she resents muggleborns. it was because of THEM that her brother died. he wasn’t the target, they were, so why did he end up how he did? but with that comes the guilt. what would her brother say if he knew what she was thinking? its that turmoil that’s ultimately eating her up inside. 

[dontyoudarejudgemesworld]

Another one already, but only because I’m stuck in bed with a cold.

So here is Chapter two of The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far. Once again you can click here if you want to read it on AO3.  Not too much more to say about it, besides in general I hope to get one or two chapters up a week but wont make any promises. Real life is chaos and I have most of the fic written however it currently resides in a handful of note books so transcribing it is the name of the game. And with that allow me to fling yet another chapter of an insignificant fic int yawning void that is the internet

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The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far Chapter Two: One Conversation 

“Soos watch the Shack. I’m going out,” Stan barked as he headed out the door. The young man’s surprised but excited affirmative barely registered as he climbed into the Diablo and started it up. This was insane, it was noon on a Saturday in peak tourist season he should be leading tours and fleecing rubes. He shouldn't even be bothering with the woman. As far as she and the rest of the world were concerned Stanley was dead. The woman had already given him a free pass. She’d told him she’d understand if he didn’t come looking for her and bowed out. He had too many things on his plate; he had a lie to maintain to the world while trying to figure out the damned portal. She’d said he’d never see her again and he honestly believed her.

And that was why he was doing this wasn’t it? Because he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. He was far too curious, he’d always wanted kids when he was younger. He’d secretly wanted the whole shebang; a sweet little wife, a few kids, a house down the street from Sixer and his research. Of course that had derailed when he’d been kicked out and he realized he wasn’t exactly fatherly material. Worthless just like the old man said.

In retrospect he should have considered he might have a kid out there somewhere. He had spent many night is beds that weren't his own in search of warmth or some kind of fleeting companionship. And while he had normally taken steps to prevent such an outcome he had slipped up a few times. And with a list of one night stands a long as a New York phone book the odds had stacked against him. Still it hadn't really been a thought until last night when Stanley Pine’s illegitimate daughter came knocking on his door. His daughter.

The thought was still like a cold bucket of water every time. At first he’d tried to figure out how it wasn’t true. The test had been wrong after all paternity test were only 99.9% positive. She didn’t look that much like his mother her eyes had been brown like Ford’s and his. And the fact that she had six fingers…that was just a coincidence. Yeah, and pigs could fly while singing opera. He’d tried all night to find a lie convincing enough, but had failed miserably. Turned out 40 years of lying about everything wasn’t even enough practice when his own child was staring into his face.

And how the hell had she even found him? Seriously he hadn't gone by Stanley Pines for years especially when it came to women. Couldn’t risk dragging them into the shit show that was his life from the poor decision to spend a night or two with him. Yet somehow she’d not only managed to find out who he was but to track his ‘brother’ down in the middle of nowhere with proof. How the hell had she managed that? What kind of ‘friends’ did she have that obtaining federal evidence was possible? Was that even legal?

Not that she looked like she would have a problem if it wasn’t. While he knew that reading a book by its cover was never a good idea she looked rough. It wasn’t just her appearance either. There had been a hardness to her eyes that he knew too well came from years of running in dark alleys and knowing all the wrong people. And her voice had an edge to it beneath that southern drawl she had. The kind of edge that spoke of slit throats, gun fights, and darkness.

Pulling into the Twin Bed’s parking lot he spotted her bike in front of room six. He was sure there was some kind of irony or poetry or whatever in that. Shifting into park he took a deep breath.

One conversation to get some answers. That was all. He needed to know how she found him, after all if she’d dome it maybe someone else could. Sure, she thought he was Ford, but still his past coming back to haunt him in anyway was the last thing he need. That was why he was here…for answers.

Wow… a lie he almost believed.

“You can do this, Stanley. In and out,” he said as he switched off the car, but he couldn’t bring himself to get out. This was insane. He should just leave the woman be, he didn’t need more complications. Besides what could he give her besides trouble. Shaking himself his hand raised to start the car but the door to room six opened and he froze. His daughter stepped out shoving unruly black curls out of her face as she squinted up at the sun. Shaking her head she pulled something out of her pocket and lit a cigarette. Slouching against the wall she rolled her shoulders and stared off into the woods and Stan knew he couldn’t leave. Groaning he climbed out of the car and slammed the door causing her head to snap over to his direction. He froze for a split second feeling her eyes boring into him.

Smoothing his face into his mask he strode towards her calm and collected even as his brain screamed for him to run the other direction. Twenty seven steps is what it took to reach her. For a moment they just stood staring at each other before she exhaled a cloud of smoke away from him. “Well, if I was a betting woman I’d have lost,” she said with a smirk, “So…uhhh nice day, huh?”

“Uhhhh yeah real…uhhhh sunny,” he replied rubbing the back of his neck nervously. A heavy silence descended as they stared at each other. A few awkward moments passed before she stubbed the cigarette out on her boot and cleared her throat. “Look I think I’m gonna need a beer for this. You?” she said cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said and relief flashed on her face and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Well come on in,” she said as she opened the door to her room. It was small and tidy with a twin bed and a dressed with an old TV perched on top of it. In the corner was a small table with two chairs and a mini fridge. Walking over she pulled two bottles out and popped the tops before sitting down and sliding one over towards him. Taking a seat he nodded his gratitude as he picked it up as she took a long sip of her own. Following suit he stared at her wondering how he had missed how much she looked like Ma. “So I’m sure you have a million questions so go ahead and ask away,” she said and he considered where to start.

“Sure, so uhhh how’d you find me? I mean Stanley wasn’t exactly…,” he trailed off causing her to smile.

“Forth coming with his identity,” she finished for him chuckling, “Well yeah it took a while. He told my mother his name was Stetson Pinesworth,” she admitted, “But I’m a professional P.I. so I was able to follow the strings. Once I chased down his real name it was relatively easy to find you and your older brother Sherman. I considered not going any further but…,” she shrugged, “I thought y’all might want to know that Stanley had some small part of him out there even though it seems like…he was a bit of a black sheep so to say. And I chose to come find you instead of Sherman because I figured with you being a genius and all you could make a call on if Sherman and his kid needed to know. Plus I admit I was curious of what my father looked like and since you’re twins…,” she told him with a shrug and and awkward smile as she took another drink. Letting out a huff of laughter at that he grinned back. He noticed that her words were more precise then yesterday and that her accent seemed to all but disappear. So this is her professional voice, he thought taking another small sip.

“Well sorry it couldn’t be more appealing kid. I wish I could say you got lucky and took after your mother but truth is you look like our Ma when she was young,” he said and she laughed putting him a bit more at ease.

“T’ain’t that bad. It takes a special kind a looks to rock a fez,” she added with a smirk a bit of her drawl slipping through. “Hey it sells the Mr. Mystery a bit more,” he replied, “So yur ma was…,” he asked and she scowled slightly.

“Mary Pisano. She wasn’t…the motherly type. Drink and drugs were way more interesting then her kids. Far as I can guess she got her claws into your brother at a bar and had some fun. I wouldn’t judge him too harshly if I were you though she was real good at that sort of thing. Poor sap probably had no idea what he was getting into,” she told him her voice hard and each word sharp, “She doesn’t really matter. By the time I was nine I was in the foster system. So there isn’t really much to know there,” she added and he took the hint that that wasn’t a subject she was real keen on talking about. Taking a drink he tried to remember her mother but the name meant nothing to him. He wished that he could honestly say that she’d been something special to him, one of the ones worth remembering but no. Just another nameless port of comfort in the sea of misery that was his life.

“Yeah, well he was a bit of a hound,” he said quickly taking another drink to cover his own discomfort.

“Like I said I cant blame him. She was beautiful and that can make any man stumble from time to time,” she said with a smile that he returned. For some reason  the fact that she seemed to honestly mean those words made him feel a bit relieved that he didn’t recall her mother.  

“I suppose that’s right. After all there’s a million stories about men doing dumb shit because of a pretty girl. So you got any questions for me?” he asked and she shrugged.

“I mean yeah a million but I cant really think of them now. Like I said I never really expected you to come ‘round, and I would imagine you cant answer most of them since you ain’t him,” she admitted, “I guess…I really just want to know if he was a good man,” she said after a long moment of consideration. He felt his face fall at that. He wasn’t a good man, he was a liar that sold junk to tourists. And before he’d been…well just about everything except a good man.

“Well…,” he began but she waved her hand to silence him.

“Before you go getting all squirrelly on me I literally have a collection of files on his criminal record. He was a con among other things I know that. But just because he was a criminal doesn't mean that he was a bad man,” she told him and he felt his face twist in confusion causing her to let out a low chuckle, “Look I know that just because someone was a criminal doesn't mean they were all bad. You do what you gotta to survive. So I ain’t askin’ if he was law abidin’ I’m askin’ if he was a good man? If he had a good heart,” she explained and he stared at her mouth slightly agape for a long moment. He’d never though of it like that. Was he a good man? He certainly tried to be but he felt like he’d failed. Sure he’d never hurt anyone he didn’t have to or stolen from people who couldn’t afford it. But still…

“He tried to be,” he said finally, “I mean his heart was in the right place but it always seemed to go wrong. He wanted to make things right for the family but seemed to just fall from one bad situation to the next.I don’t know if that makes him good or not,” he added finally and she nodded.

“I would think it did. I mean my opinion is to judge more by intent not out come generally,” she said with a soft sigh, “The saying is that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I cant dismiss the intent just because the final destination sucks,” she told him evenly They lapsed into silence for a few minutes before she finished her drink and rose to get another. He watched her move to the fridge considering her. It was strange to him that she seemed so nonpulse about the whole thing. What kind of life had she led that she could calmly dismiss his criminal record so easily?

“I see you had your extra finger removed,” she said finally breaking the silence and pulling him from his thoughts. Looking up at her he realized that she was looking at the ‘surgical scars’ he’d given himself after the funeral. He’d done it because he was tired of wearing those damned gloves all the time around the family.

“Uhhh….yeah. They were starting to lock up and I figured it would be better to do it before they got real bad,” he said quickly hoping that she didn’t see right through the lie. She seemed to be able to read him, and he guessed if she was a PI she would have to be able to tell a lie when she heard one.

“Makes since. I mean I only have it on my left hand but the docs warned me that it was prone to arthritis. Figure I’ll deal with it if it happens until then,” she shrugged and he was a bit relieved that he had chosen the right excuse. “So I gotta say you’re pleasant enough to talk to but I’m thinkin’ maybe I ain’t ready for your brother and his family just yet,” she admitted suddenly and he blinked in surprise.

“What? Why?” he asked wondering if he’d done something wrong.

“It isn’t you,” she laughed seeming to read his feelings again, “It’s me. I’ve always been out on my own. Which was fine. I’m a big girl, but I’m finding talking to you is…a lot. His family seems pretty close knit where as you seem a bit more of a loner…another reason I decided to talk to you. The idea of being introduced to any more of you right now is…Unsettling. If you even think that he would care,” she told him with a grin.

“Shermie is a big softy, he’d love to have you around,” he assured he quickly, “I suppose you could say he’s the sentimental one out of us. But yeah I can see where you’re coming from,” he admitted thinking about it for a moment. Shermie had always been the glue the bound them together. He’d always made sure to stay in touch and insisted that Stan had a relationship with his nephew and the twins (to the point that violence had been threatened if he didn’t show up at family gatherings at least once in a while). After he’d faked his own death Sherman had seemed even more hell bent to keep keep the family together, if he found out that his ‘dead’ little brother had a daughter she’d be dragged into the fold kicking and screaming if necessary. And when Stan considered what she’d just said he could only imagine how uncomfortable that would be for her.

She gave him a grateful smile and opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off by her stomach letting out a loud gurgling sound. He almost laughed out loud as she pressed her hand lightly to her stomach her cheeks coloring a bit like a guilty child.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten in..,” she paused appearing to think about it for a moment, “…a while? Time has gotten away from me lately,” she finished lamely. Cocking an eyebrow he gave an amused smile as he shook his head.

“Day drinking on an empty stomach, huh?” he said rhetorically as he stood up, ”Not a bright idea there kid. Come on. I’ll show you the best place in town,” he offered,”We can continue awkwardly staring at each other over food,” he added and she let out a bark of laughter that broke the tension he hadn’t realized had descended on them.

[canadian-riddler]

The Girlfriend: Part Four

Synopsis: It’s almost better when GLaDOS DOESN’T try to be nice.

He’d gone home last week and it had been a bad idea.

He’d known it was a bad idea before he’d even done it, but heading cheerfully towards his own destruction was kinda his thing.  So, he’d done it anyway.  And now he was sad.  What he really, really wanted to do was go to GLaDOS and see if she could make him feel better.  He hadn’t even tried it, though.  He was pretty sure she didn’t know how to do that sort of thing.  She didn’t even know what to do when she was sad!  So he’d been kinda… avoiding her a little bit.  Kinda.  He couldn’t really not be around her, since he’d obviously been trying to get closer and closer since the day he’d arrived there, but he wasn’t like… trying to touch her or anything like that.  He wasn’t even really talking that much.  And of course she’d noticed, but she hadn’t really done anything.  She just kinda kept giving him this look.  He was actually totally surprised when, on his third day back, she asked, “Claptrap.  What’s going on?”

“Nothin’,” he said, even though you didn’t have to be a super genius to tell that was a really bad lie.  “I’m good.”

“You aren’t ‘good’,” GLaDOS insisted.  “What happened back home?”

He stared at her for like two minutes before he realised he had to answer the question.  “How did you know?” he asked, totally shocked.

“Oh, come on,” GLaDOS said, sounding extremely insulted.  “You were fine before you left and now you’re all mopey.  You don’t have to be a genius to work out what happened in the middle.”

Oh.  Well.  He wouldn’t have.  He shrugged, wondering if there was still a way out of this.  “People are just… mean to me there.  That’s all.  No biggie.”

“Then why did you go to see them?”

“Because they’re my friends.”

“Excuse me,” said GLaDOS in disbelief.  “Your friends are mean to you?”

He knew he was gonna catch it for saying this, but it was the only thing he could think of.  “Well… you’re my girlfriend and you’re mean to me.  Soooo… yeah.  They’re my friends.  Even though they’re all jerkbags.”

It hit him that he sounded kinda like a whiny three-year-old.  He was definitely older than that, though by how much was anyone’s guess.  He had a birthday, but it was totally made up.  Come to think of it, how old was GLaDOS?  Should he have asked that before they’d started all this?  Oh, but girls didn’t like talking about their age…

“Am I?”

He had to remind himself he was in the middle of a conversation.  “Are you what?”

“Mean to you.”

He had no idea how to answer that!  Was it a trick question?  Was he not really supposed to answer it?  Or was she seriously asking?  “Uh… yeah?”

“When?”

He stared up at her for a minute, trying to figure out what, exactly, was going on here.  “Like… every day?”

Her optic narrowed, which was usually when he needed to start being nervous.  “That’s ridiculous.  I am not mean to you every day.”

“Yes!  You are!  There’s not a single day goes by that you’re not!  You were yesterday!”

She leaned in closer, almost seeming to squint at him.  “Name one thing I did yesterday.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘If it had been up to me, you and everyone at quality control who allowed you to roll off the assembly line in one piece the day you were deemed adequately functional would have been terminated.  Permanently.’”

“Yes,” GLaDOS said, “and your response was, ‘You say that like a person who thinks Hyperion has quality control’.  What, exactly, in that sentence indicates you were bothered by what I said?”

He drew up his chassis and held up one hand in order to protest, thought it over, and realised he had nothing to say.  Because she was right.  Again.  Yeah, what she’d said had been pretty mean, but… no.  He’d just said what he’d said and that was it.  He slumped back down again.  Man.  He was so used to getting beat on that he waved it off when his girlfriend started tearing him down.  That was pretty depressing.  He couldn’t even argue that she just should’ve known better, because he already knew he was almost the only friend she’d ever had.  She didn’t know better, because he’d never told her.  And he’d never told her because… 

Now he was thinking about it, he just plain didn’t want to know if she’d just pretend he’d never said anything.  Nobody else had ever cared about this kind of thing.  Maybe she would.  Maybe, if he asked or if he kinda nudged her in the right direction sometimes, she’d actually be nice to him!

That was so stupid he almost laughed.  Nice to him.  Sure.  Right.  And maybe tomorrow it’d turn out he could climb stairs or that he’d had fingers all this time.

“Has your mind wandered away from you again?”

Sorta, to be honest.  “Um… yeah.  Yeah, I was kinda… bothered by that.  It’s just… easier to blow stuff off, you know?”

“That doesn’t really solve the problem of why you expect me to be clairvoyant about your feelings.”

“I don’t,” he mumbled at the floor, not able to keep from clenching his hands together.  “I just… expect you not to care.”

“I don’t,” GLaDOS told him bluntly.  “Most of the time, anyway.  Occasionally there’s a momentary blip in the trend, but it rarely lasts very long.”

Yep.  Sounded about right.

“However,” GLaDOS continued, “you should appreciate the fact that I care enough to pretend that I care.”

Claptrap looked up at her.  “I’m gonna need a minute on that one,” he admitted.  “You care but you also don’t at the same time?  How’s that even work?”

GLaDOS tilted her core thoughtfully, and even though he was a bit upset he still managed to find that super cute.  “It’s the difference,” she said finally, “between actively and passively caring.”

He folded up his arms in an attempt to figure that one out.  “So… you care about my feelings as long as you don’t have to do anything about them?”

“Basically.”

“And that means,” Claptrap thought out loud, “that you’re cool with me telling you about ‘em, but not with me asking you to fix ‘em?”

“That would depend on whether I felt like it or not,” GLaDOS said.  “Fixing them, I mean.  A lot of your issues seem to be psychological, and we all know that psychology isn’t Science.”

Claptrap, in fact, did not know that – damn she was smart – but he forced himself back onto the subject at hand.  Now wasn’t the time to get distracted!  “What… what if I don’t want you to fix anything, but a little bit of like… effort would be good.  What would you do then?”

“I suppose that would depend on what you defined as ‘a little bit of effort’.”

He didn’t even have to think about the answer to that one, but actually saying it… he probably shouldn’t do that.  He should probably just drop this right now.  She didn’t care, anyway.  She’d said so!

Well… no.  Not exactly.  She cared enough to pretend she cared.  Even when she didn’t.  And she probably did a little more than she was cool with admitting to.  That was a thing she did.  Just fake that something wasn’t as big of a deal as it really was.  He still didn’t know why – wait.  That actually wasn’t important right now.  What was important was that he really, really wanted a hug.  But how was he supposed to know if she thought that was ‘a little bit of effort’ or not?  Other than asking.  That was always what it came down to, huh?  Having to stare down the barrel of the question and hope the bullet that came out of it wasn’t the dreaded ‘why the hell would I do that, you desperate loser?’, accompanied by scornful laughter.  

Man.  He’d shamelessly asked so many people – a lot of them total strangers – for so many things all his entire life and never hesitated for a second, but asking his girlfriend for anything whatsoever?  Borderline impossible!  How did she do it?

“Uh…,” he said, when he remembered he’d kinda been standing there in silence for a while, “so you remember when… y’know… you were sad about your friend?”

“Yes.”

“And I… kinda helped you out with that?”

“Yes, I remember.”

She wasn’t getting the hint.  He couldn’t tell whether it was on purpose or not.  She hadn’t really moved at all so it wasn’t like she was giving him any hints.  Oh, crap.  He was hoping she’d get it without him really having to ask…

“Oh,” said GLaDOS suddenly.  “It’s a hug you want, isn’t it.”

He was almost relieved.  Almost.  It was kinda cancelled out by the overwhelming terror he was feeling at the realisation that he really, really didn’t want to know if the answer was no.  Because now that she’d, like, actually said it, he was probably going to die if she didn’t want to.  He didn’t actually know anybody who’d died because they hadn’t gotten a hug, but hey!  There was a first time for everything!  And if that was ever gonna happen to anybody, a guy could place bets on it happening to him.

“You’re too far away,” GLaDOS said.

“Huh?”  Too far away for what?

GLaDOS sighed, which was how he knew he’d really started to annoy her.  Because she didn’t need to breathe.  So sighing wasn’t an automatic thing, like it was for meatbags.  She did it on purpose so that he –

Man.  He just could not focus for two seconds, could he?  But that thought just made him even more sad than he already was, and honestly he was being so stupid about it that he didn’t deserve a hug.  He was just gonna leave now.  Yeah.  He was just gonna do that.

“I honestly can’t tell if you want a hug or not,” said GLaDOS.  “Context implies you do, but –“

“I do!” Claptrap said without thinking, whirling around to face her.  Wow.  He hadn’t even realised he’d turned away.  

“You aren’t behaving as though you do.”

“No, I do!” he insisted, and that was when he just went for it.  No chance to talk himself out of it this time!  Just… swooped right in.

He hadn’t actually thought about how she was gonna hug him, and he worried about that for about one second.  He didn’t have time to worry about it longer than that because that was when she started pressing her entire eye into the side of his chassis.  Man, she was really strong.  That whole shebang must have been super heavy for her motor to have been built to output this much force.  

Oof.  And it was a good hug, too.  Like, really good.  So good he kinda felt better but he also kinda felt like he should just start talking ‘cause there was a lot he could say that he could just get out real quick, maybe, if she let him, and – no!  No, he couldn’t!  That was a big no because even thinking about any of that just made him more sad and… oh boy.  Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

He jumped off of her and turned around as fast as he could.  He was not gonna cry on her.  There was no way he was doing that.  Even if she woulda let him, he wasn’t doing it.  That was just too much.  

“Claptrap?”

Great.  Just great.  Now she was gonna think he thought her hugs sucked.  And he didn’t!  It was the best one he’d ever had!  Also one of the only ones.  But that meant she wasn’t gonna try and give him any more and that just made him even more sad than he’d been to begin with!

“I’m okay,” he said, but more to the floor than to her.  “I just… I needed a minute.”

“Look.  I’ll be honest with you.  I have no idea which action I need to take here.  So if you want me to do something – or stop doing something – you’re going to have to come right out and tell me.  I’m not going to be able to guess.”

Oh geez, she was trying to be nice.  And worse, it was working.

“The hug was good,” he said in a small voice, fitting and unfitting his hands together.  

“Then why did you go over there?  You are aware that I can’t chase you, right?”

Ohhhh, he wanted that hug real bad.  But he had to wait until he knew he wasn’t gonna cry!  He could go cry later, but not now!  Not when she was helping!  He bounced up and down, waving his hands in front of him.  

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly, wanting to move as faaaaar away from the topic of crying as possible.  “I’m coming!”

Ohhhhh, it was nice.  It was so, so nice.  He realised he didn’t even care she couldn’t hug him from both sides.  Literally everything else about the hug made up for it.  She was so big and warm and strong and –

“You don’t have to go back there,” she murmured, and it felt really nice the way her voice kinda resonated inside of his chassis.

“It’s my home,” he said, even though he knew she wouldn’t get it.  “And they’re my friends.”

“Do you know what your biggest flaw is, Claptrap?”

“… everything?” he asked, confused.  As far as he knew, he was nothing but flaws.

“Not quite,” GLaDOS said, and pulled back just hard enough to get him off of her.  “It’s your lack of self-respect.  Most people have at least an ounce or two.  But you…”  She shook her core gravely.  “You don’t have any.  At all.”

Okay.  Well.  She didn’t need to point it out like that.

“Which leads me to wonder,” GLaDOS mused, looking away from him, “if everyone on Pandora truly hates you, or if you merely suffer from an extremely severe case of confirmation bias.”

“Um… what?”

“Confirmation bias is when you gather and interpret information in such a way that it proves what you already believe,” explained GLaDOS, and to his surprise she wasn’t even sassy about it.  “In your case, you believe yourself to be worthless and a waste of time; therefore, you seek out and surround yourself with people who not only seemingly prove that to you, but discourage you from thinking any different.”

For what must’ve been the first time ever, Claptrap didn’t know what to say.  It sounded stupid.  Who would do that?  Who would decide to just… give up on themselves, and then look for people who would happily keep kicking them when they were down?  At the very least wouldn’t they like… ditch the people that made them feel bad?

He couldn’t do that, though.  Then he would have no friends instead of just terrible ones.  And self-respect wasn’t a good enough trade for being lonely.

Was it?

“I would rather live one thousand years and every single one of those days alone,” GLaDOS said, because she’d somehow managed to read his mind again, “then lose an iota of my own dignity.  Especially for people who would be happy if I were dead.”

He almost asked, all in a rush, ‘Would you be happy if I was dead?’, but stopped himself in time.  Even if the answer was no, that wasn’t really what she was talking about.  She was talking about something that you didn’t get from other people.  You got it from yourself.  It was a gift to yourself, because it… because it stopped you from…

From doing the kinda stuff he did.

“I have some,” he felt the need to tell her.  “It’s not zero.  Not a whole lot more than that, but… not zero.”  She didn’t need to know that it almost had been.  Or she didn’t need to know until later, anyway.

“You’re not going to improve it any by hanging out with those people.”

No he was not.  But it’d have to wait.  He could only take so much self-reflection at once.  Before it spiralled into self-loathing, anyway.  “GLaDOS?” he asked.

“What.”

“How’d you get so smart?”

“I do a lot of thinking,” she said, again very seriously.  “The trick is coming up with multiple ways to approach the same subject and, in doing so, preventing yourself from dismissing those alternate viewpoints offhand.  That part can get a bit complex.  This is where confirmation bias comes into play again: you want to ignore these new ideas because they don’t verify what you already believe.  But you can’t.  Everything must be weighted equally.”

He thought he understood all of that.  It sounded like something he’d never even tried.  Well.  Maybe once or twice, a long time ago.  He also did a lot of thinking, but not about deep stuff like that.  He’d have to give it a try!  Who knew?  Maybe it would even work!

“You know,” GLaDOS said, “for a moment there I thought you were going to ask if I would be happy if you were dead.  But you didn’t.  Which tells me you really were listening.  Congratulations.  The bar was low, but you managed to stumble over it.”

“Would you be?” he couldn’t help himself from asking.  She narrowed her optic in his direction.

“Really?”

“You brought it up!” protested Claptrap.  “It’s almost like you wanted me to ask!”

She just turned away from him without answering.  Which meant that the answer was… no.  The answer was no!  ‘cause if it was yes she woulda had a whole spiel to go along with it!  But she didn’t wanna actually say no ‘cause… uh…

Ooh!  It was ‘cause it would be, like, proof that she cared.  He perked up suddenly.

It was that thing she’d just said!  Confirmation bias!  Oho, he had her now.  She believed she didn’t care, so she only did things to ‘prove’ that she didn’t!  Amazing!  He’d learned something today!

Two things, actually.  

“Babe, you’re amazing,” he told her.  She looked over at him almost offhandedly, like she’d managed to forget he was there.

“I know,” she said, with an extremely sexy self-assurance that he was very into and definitely wanted to have for himself.  And he would!  One day.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  Probably not the day after that, either.  But one day.  

“Also,” he said, hoping he wasn’t going too far with this one, “if the uh… passing whim to be nice to me ever struck ya again, it’d be cool if you… y’know… indulged it.”

She looked at him silently for so long he started backing out of the room, just the tiniest, tiniest bit, but then she finally said, 

“I’ll think about it.”

It looked like the ol’ confirmation bias was about to take a big hit.  For both of them.  Terrifying, but also… kinda exciting!  Who knew what he could accomplish if he liked himself, and while knowing somebody else liked him on top of that!  Man!  He’d be unstoppable.  Just like GLaDOS was unstoppable.

He might not respect himself, but he sure respected her a hell of a lot.  And that seemed like a pretty good place to start.

[umbraastaff]

@merle-casts-zone-of-truth

(well, this got out of hand! i was intending to write this concept as a much shorter, not-shipping fic, but then i decided to use this prompt as an excuse to actually write it, so here we are i guess!!!  --oh, and using the last name Hadar comes from the ideas ive seen on your blog, ofc. hey i love that a lot and i had to give it a shoutout!)

Overgrowth [a sort of companion fic to Harvest, though you don’t need to read one to read the other]

★ ★ ★

On Tesseralia, they say they’ll give over the Light when John makes peace with the enemy.

The Light of Creation is right at their fingertips for the 30th cycle. All it’ll take is a conversation with the omniverse’s most enormous, threatening force.

“If there’s anyone in any plane who can do it, it’s you,” Lucretia says.

John smiles wryly. “Yes. If there’s anyone.”

“If you can’t make peace, get information,” Davenport advises. “But don’t sell yourself short. You’re good at this.”

“I’m good at this,” John repeats.

★

The first sign of the Overgrowth’s approach is widening cracks in sidewalks and rocks. Vines creeping up mailboxes. Farms yielding crops a little faster, fruits a little bigger. The sun feeling a little brighter.

★

John fixes his tie, closes his eyes, and wills himself into a deathly vulnerable space. He opens his eyes to a bizarre scene. It’s a beach, because he’s standing in the sand by the ocean, with waves that creep up close to his feet, then slide away just in time to leave them dry. Across from the ocean, though, there’s a dense forest, and stray trees permeate the rest of the environment: standing in the sand, and even in the ocean, swaying with the waves. They aren’t even trees you usually find near beaches.

The whole place looks like a collision. It’s as if a forest and a beach decided they both wanted to be here for this meeting, and they both followed through, with no coordination. There are two suns in the violet sky, too, as if to drive home the idea that it’s two places mashed together.

And John is standing across from someone else, in the sand, in the point of contact between these two climates. He’s a dwarf in a bright-colored shirt with a tropical print. He looks like a regular guy. Like a dad, even.

The dwarf squints at John, blinks a few times. “Huh,” he says, in a voice that’s too gruff, too earthy, too real to belong to someone at the center of a universe-consuming mass of plants.

“Hello, sir,” John says, forcing the bewilderment to keep out of his voice. “I am John Hadar. May I ask your name?”

“Highchurch. Uh, Merle. Highchurch.”

“Highchurch Merle?” John says, extending a hand. “A pleasure.”

“Other way around,” Merle chuckles, shaking it. “The pleasure’s mine! This is real weird, though. How’d you pull this off?”

“It’s something called Parley. A technique for peacemaking, which is what I hope to achieve with you. It ensures that the guest-- that’s you-- is perfectly safe. I invited you, so I can’t harm you,” John explains. He omits the bit where Merle can kill him, but he’s sure the dwarf will pick up on it. Then he adds, hopefully, “Question for a question?”

“You already asked my name,” Merle says, but after a beat where John’s trying to come up with a response, he grins. “Kidding! Let’s sit down. Then you can ask whatever you want.” He gestures past John, and so the human turns around to see a picnic table. He’s absolutely sure that wasn’t there a minute ago.

They sit down. John speaks again. “So, this place… I don’t recognize it, myself, but I’m wondering if it holds any significance to you.”

“Never seen anythin’ like it,” Merle says earnestly. “But I figure it’s, y’know, a metaphorical space. I’m from the beach, myself, always loved it. And the trees… I like ‘em plenty, too, but that’s gotta be more to do with my whole situation… and Pan. I’m a cleric, you know. Well, was a cleric.”

“Huh. Do you mind if I ask--”

Merle shakes his head, interrupting. “I get another question, pal!”

“Ah, yes,” John says, very worried that he’s going to have to give away (or come up with a lie about) important information.

“Do you like chess?”

John raises his eyebrows. “Oh, er, yes. I do. Very much.”

Merle smiles. “You seemed like the type.” He knocks on the table, and a square platform of wood rises from it, with a checkered pattern appearing as it does. Then, a boardful of chess pieces appears in their rightful places: John’s set is made of wood, and Merle’s pieces are all made of tiny, woven vines. “So, what was your question?”

“Oh, right. I was wondering, since you were a cleric before, how did you go from that occupation to… this?”

“Funny you should ask it that way,” Merle says, “Since I probably wouldn't be here if I wasn’t a cleric in the first place.” He taps the table gently in thought. “People from my church, they… they found out something big, and they asked me to explain it. I asked Pan about it. And this whole shebang sprung from that event.”

“I… see.” John nods slowly, taking that in. He’s grateful for the chessboard: a perfect distraction to pad the conversation and keep his big questions from seeming too frequent. “I’m afraid I don’t know which of these sets counts as white or black, so I’m not sure whether to make a move or wait for you.”

“Oh! Who cares. You go ahead!”

They play for a few turns in silence. Merle is very slow, but he’s very good, and they’re about equally matched in skill. Finally, the dwarf says, “You mind if we get rid o’ the whole back-n-forth thing and just have a normal conversation?” With a cautious nod from John, he continues. “What really brings you here? I can’t imagine trying to talk things out with the plant plane was your first solution, if I’m causing so much trouble for you.”

“Ha,” John lets out a hint of a laugh at that. “No, it wasn’t. I only recently learned this technique. We just figured that it couldn’t hurt to try talking, right?”

Merle looks him in the eyes, looks through his eyes. It’s uncomfortable. John likes to be in control of what people see in him, and Merle looks like he’s reading an open book. “It’s more specific than that.”

John blinks. “Yes. Well, there’s also the issue where we won’t get the Light of Creation here unless I make peace with you,” he says, and only after it comes out does he realize how much he’s said, too directly. It was so compelling, in that moment looking at Merle’s eyes, to be honest. Goosebumps prick the back of his neck.

“The Light, huh?” Merle moves his bishop. Whaddya need that for?”

John hesitates. “We’re scientists. Er, my party. We want to study it.” Each of the last few words has to be forced up his throat, burning his tongue just slightly as they come out.

Merle meets his eyes again, looking disappointed this time. Like a parent of a kid who stole candy instead of, John reminds himself, an enormous eldritch forest that suffocates whole planar systems. “You don’t have to tell me,” Merle says, “But please don’t lie. Not in such a lovely place.”

So not even half-truths work. And it’s not as if John can risk trying a charm spell on a man with so much power. He’s just going to have to play the game: be honest, and try to get more information than he gives. “My apologies,” he says. “I hope you can forgive my caution.”

Merle nods. “You want the Light to get it away from me, right?” When John’s only response is a startled stare, the dwarf continues. “That’s good. I hope you use it for something better than we do.”

John blinks, but as he’s trying to find the right question about that, he feels a pressure on his legs. He looks down to see vines creeping up from the ground, locking his feet to the earth. “Uh, what’s--”

“Oh, shoot,” Merle exclaims, looking under the table from his side. “I think our time’s up. Is it possible for you to come back later? A while later. I don’t want you to be endangered here.”

“Ah, yes,” John says quickly. “Nice meeting you, Merle.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice chat, get outta here!” the cleric responds, voice lacking any real annoyance.

John closes his eyes.

★

The Overgrowth’s second sign is the death of small plants on the forest floor as the shadows of the canopy overtakes them. It’s the sidewalks crackling, home gardens climbing up the walls and through the windows. It’s people getting ill from non-native plants releasing toxins they don’t have the immune systems for.

★

Smoke hardens back into John’s form, and he looks up from his place on the floor. Everyone is still here: the crew, and Oriana. She looks down at him, question apparent on her face.

Back in his element, John pastes a bright, relieved smile onto his face. “The Overgrowth won’t be bothering us anymore.”

The crew stands in stunned silence, and then they break into cheers, with varying levels or sincerity. Oriana takes a bit longer to convince, but John says everything he needs to, gets ahold of the Light, and returns to the Starblaster with his crew.

Davenport speaks as soon as the door shuts behind them. “Well done getting the Light. What actually happened?”

“I played chess with the Overgrowth. His name is Merle,” John says flatly. Six pairs of eyes stare at him.

“You played chess with plant hell?” Taako clarifies. “For real?”

“So there was a specific person at the center of it all?” Lucretia asks, already writing.

“Yes. And he used to be a cleric of Pan. I think… it seemed like godly power was involved in the Overgrowth’s creation. I’m going to ask more later.”

“What? Why not just stay there and get the rest of the info back then?” Magnus asks.

“The plants there started acting up, and he asked me to leave. I was worried I’d die if I didn’t, and then we’d have no chance to get this world’s Light.”

Davenport nods. “Good call. Give it as much time as you think it needs, then get back in there.”

Lup finally speaks. “He didn’t kill you. Like, he actively tried to not kill you. That’s nuts.”

“Yeah,” John says.

★

In the Overgrowth’s later stages, plants start to animate. Roots wrap around the foundations of buildings and crush them. Vines overrun the streets and valleys. Touching any of them gets you dragged underground, locked in a dirt tomb until the world ends.

★

Since it’s only a month to the end of the year, and the heightened activity of the Overgrowth might distract Merle in later conversations, John decides to Parley at the next reset. He finds himself in the same place, with waves a little calmer than he remembers. This time, the picnic table is already in front of him, and their half-finished chess game is waiting. And on the other side of the table…

“Merle,” he says.

“John! Nice to see ya. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course,” John says. “May I ask what cut our last meeting short?”

Merle takes a moment to think. “Hard to explain. When I’m not here, with you, I don’t have a body, or even individuality. I’m just part of the mass. And I’m sort of a reassuring force, because of my role in all this. So when I’m not there, they get… antsy? Like a bunch of kids,” he adds with a laugh.

John smiles. He can’t quite get behind the humor of calling the Overgrowth “kids,” but Merle’s shameless enjoyment of his own joke is sort of endearing.

“I gotta question,” Merle says, sitting down at the table. John joins him. “Whose turn is it in the chess game?”

“Yours, I believe. Was that your question?” John jokes.

“Ha! Nice try,” Merle retorts, using a pawn to take one of John’s diagonally. “I just moved between planar systems. Does this parley thing work across different systems, or do you have a method of transport? I know for sure you’re not hitching a ride with me.”

John considers how to answer that. On the one hand, Merle would probably let him decline to answer. But on the other, that could mean Merle refusing John’s questions later. And John has to be honest if he does answer, so… best to just keep it vague. “My friends and I, er, that crew of scientists,” he says, “We found a way to pass between dimensions just before you do. Using your portal, but not your plane.”

“Huh. That explains how you’ve done it without the Light in hand.”

John hesitates. “One more thing. During our first meeting, you mentioned that the Overgrowth-- er, that is, your whole plant plane, here--”

“Overgrowth?” Merle laughs. “Kinda on-the-nose! Better than mine, though.”

“Yes, well,” John continues, “You said it all started with someone asking you about… something. What was it?”

Merle’s expression falls, but before John can find out why, he realizes that his hand, resting on the table, has nettles starting to grow over and around it, with spikes that are precariously close. “Time to go, then, I suppose.”

★

It’s a few more sessions before John tries the question again.

“I just keep wondering,” John explains, “because what you've done is so… incomprehensible, so unique. I can't imagine what you were asked that made you create it.”

Merle closes his eyes. “When I was a cleric, back home, some members of my church found the Light of Creation. Young people, you know? The sort to ask big questions. Problem is, the Light had answers.” He takes a minute to make a chess move before continuing.

“They were scared of what they saw, so they showed it to me, looking for answers. And I- I saw--” Merle takes a shaky breath, and John realizes his eyes are glistening. “I saw everything. It wasn't just the concept of eternity, it was every single moment of it. And everything we do is so small, John. It was all so antithetical to everything I'd ever believed. I… I don't…”

John puts a hand on top of Merle’s, on the table. Merle looks up at him, some of the distress relaxing into gratitude. “John,” he says seriously, “With all your space travels and whatnot, don’t you ever lose sight of the little things. Don't zoom out so far into the big picture that you forget what's important.”

John’s lips quirk upwards. “Don’t worry. I’m a bard. I know every note is important.”

“A bard, huh?” Merle leans back, (not far enough to separate their hands), and he takes on a jokingly offended look. “You been holdin’ out on me? What do I gotta do to hear you play?”

“Sing, actually,” John says. Usually he’s not a fan of impromptu requests, but he finds he doesn't mind this one too much. “I mean, I do most of my magic with motivational speaking. But I sing sometimes, too.”

And then he does. He sings an old Dwarvish song that he learned on a previous world, something with a softer melody than most of their music is known for. He doesn't actually know any Dwarvish outside of the lyrics he's memorized, but he knows what it's about: A stone that falls and rolls down a mountain, who talks to all the animals and plants it passes. And at the end, when it's sitting still at the base, thinking it is alone, it learns it has befriended the mountain itself.

Merle is crying by the end of it, letting out any tears he was suppressing. “That was beautiful,” he says. “Thank you, John.”

★

The Overgrowth never appears in the sky. It climbs out from the core of the plane, a parasite, suffocating the world in shadow and cold as a cocoon covers it. And once the planar system is engulfed, it expands to its true size. The crew only ever sees it for a few moments-- an enormous mass of plants, with vines reaching out to them, before time freezes and resets.

★

“I’ve seen dozens of civilizations use the Light to pursue knowledge,” John says. “How did your use of it create the Overgrowth?”

“It wasn't in pursuit of knowledge,” Merle says. “It was… I led the church in a prayer. And because I had the Light, the whole world joined in as I called to Pan.” he sighs. “But I think that the vastness of eternity-- of real eternity-- was too big for gods, too.

“So Pan gave us his power. Or we ripped it out of him, I don't know. I don't think the light amplified his magic so much as… made its own version. Because, this--” he gestures to the forest-- “this isn't my Pan.

“Anyway, yeah. The Overgrowth began with that. We were all so afraid of being alone, being small andshort-lived in an uncaring universe. Of being nothing. But if we joined everyone together, if we became our own universe, we could be… something.”

★

“What brings you joy, John? Do you enjoy singing?” Merle asks, after another song.

“Yes. I like to... inspire people. And I like the way words and notes can be woven into any shape.” When Merle waits, John adds, “And… I love my crew, and…” They meet eyes.

“That’s good. Don't ever stop loving things, John, don't ever let yourself stop.”

“What do you enjoy, Merle?”

“I love your singing. I love our meetings. I love these waves,” Merle says, gesturing out towards the sea. “I wish I could remember any of that when I’m not here. Then, maybe… maybe I could stop all this. Stop… hurting everyone. Hurting you.”

★

In the ninety-second cycle, against the advice of the rest of the crew, John calls Merle for a final meeting. They've spoken in every cycle up till now-- multiple times in some of them, when Merle could manage it.

On the beach and in the ocean, there are more trees than there used to be. It's been a gradual increase over the decades, but it still feels like far too many, too fast. Above them, the night sky sparkles with stars.

“This may be our last meeting,” John says immediately. If he sits on the information, Merle will know something’s wrong.

Merle senses the weight of that statement, and so he doesn't endanger John by asking why. Instead, he says, “What, your friends finally figured out you're having an affair with the enemy instead of grilling me?”

John goes red for a moment before he relaxes and laughs. “You, personally, aren't my enemy, Merle.”

“Just look at you, hopelessly brainwashed!”

They laugh. John has mentioned before how he’s sure the crew thinks he's being Charmed, what with how happy he always leaves parley sessions, and with less new information each time. But he still fights against the Overgrowth just as hard as the rest of them, so they keep trusting him.

Merle speaks again as their laughter dies down. “I was wondering when this’d happen. You got any plans for our last day?”

Without really thinking, John starts to sing. He sings about the stars reflecting on the waves, about impossible wishes breaking the backs of meteors, about how far apart each star in a constellation is. He lets magic creep into the music, making the stars twinkle with different colors and having their reflections swirl in the ocean.

Merle faces away from John for most of it, staring out at the sea. “I loved that,” he says quietly at the end. “Where is it from?”

“I… I made it up just now. I thought you'd notice, what with all the stumbling and off-key notes.”

“It was perfect,” Merle whispers. They stare at the sky for a while, and then he breaks the silence again. “And you know I'm tone deaf, right?”

John laughs. “Oh, that's right! I forgot. Guess that part doesn't matter, then.”

“Yeah,” says Merle, and before they can fall into another silence, he adds, “Hey, you wanna know about these constellations? I think I still remember a few of them.”

“That would be lovely,” John says.

★

Seventeen years later, John drinks the ichor of a second voidfish, and he is overwhelmed by a sea of memories. In the emotional mayhem, he almost tries to parley. The thought is interrupted by the deafening crack of the moon base being torn through. The crew sees an enormous tree trunk grow straight up through a dome and then through the ceiling. There is a horrible, lurching tilt as the base's ability to stay airborne goes out, and it remains in place by the tree’s strength alone.

★

Not an hour later, John vanishes from a barely-functional elevator and finds himself in an almost-familiar space. His shoes are on sand, but he's surrounded by a fairly thick forest. He can see the ocean water to his side, glinting off the spots of sunlight between leaves. The picnic table is broken in half, with a tree dividing it.

And he sees Merle. “Holy shit, that worked,” the dwarf says. He's on his knees, surrounded by foliage. His right arm looks like it's made of wood, and his left eye has a flower obscuring it. John can't tell if it’s growing over the eye or instead of it. He doesn't want to know.

“Oh gods, Merle,” John says in a panic. “Fuck, it's been-- what's going on?”

“It’s this very original idea I had,” Merle grins, considerably less worried than John is. “I call it Parley!”

“What happened to your arm? Your eye? Merle--”

“Don’t worry about it. And what about you? Your complexion? You look awful,” he laughs.

“I had my good skin stolen by elves who played… electronic dance music.”

“The hell’s that? Can you sing it? Will you--” his tone drops to something a little more serious. “Will you sing for me? One last time?”

“I- I can't,” John says. “They took my singing, my… my sense of pitch. I can't sing.”

Merle looks at him for a long moment, and John expects something sympathetic, pitying. He doesn't want that at all. But before he can say that, Merle says, “You’re tellin’ me your pitch is stopping you from singin’ for Merle “tone-deaf” Hitower Highchurch, in a private parley area?” The trees around them seem to shift and creak. “What happened these last couple decades? The John I remember wasn't shy like that.”

“No, it's-- I appreciate that, Merle, but it's not that simple. I can't feel the changes between notes at all, and it throws me off my rhythm every time. I can't hold a tune.”

“John, if you won't sing, I will,” Merle decides. “And you're gonna hate it.”

“I doubt that,” John challenges.

And so Merle starts singing a loud, obnoxious shanty, wheezing every time it requires his voice to go higher. John realizes a few bars in that he recognizes it. It was broadcasted by one of the voidfish at Legato Conservatory.

As Merle predicted, John hates it, in an amused sort of way. He decides to try joining in, and he finds it's easier to keep up with the rhythm when he's being guided by Merle's (albeit terrible) singing. They yell the song to the sea, lacking any semblance of harmony or tune.

“See,” Merle says, “You still got it!”

John laughs. “I just didn't have any other way to drown you out, that's all.”

“You coulda killed me,” Merle says, tone far too flat. John stops laughing. The trees seem to lurch inwards around them, making John feel mildly claustrophobic. “This is parley.”

“What? No, Merle, what?? I'm not-- I won't kill you. I can't. Don't say that.”

“It might solve your problem.” As he says it, John feels vines creeping up his feet, tighter than usual. He tries to kick them off.

“And it might not! Jesus, Merle! We're gonna find a way, okay?”

Merle sighs. “Thought you might be like that. C’mere.” When John leans away from his inviting gesture, Merle adds, “I won't trick you into killing me. I'm not a jackass.”

John hesitates another moment before stepping forward, shaking the plants from his legs. He sits down in front of Merle-- with him cross-legged and the dwarf up on his knees, they're nearly eye-level.

Merle puts his non-wood hand on John’s upper arm. Roots are starting to twist over both of their legs. “John,” he whispers, “Do you wanna know the worst lie I've ever been told?”

John leans in. “Yes…?”

“It’s that love and moments and songs aren't worth anything because they'll be gone someday. And I've been living that lie for ninety-nine percent of my last few centuries alive. Except when I’m with you.” The trees are getting wider, taller. They’re starting to actually close in. The wind whistling through the branches sounds like a scream. “So I wanted to tell ya thanks for that, and I also wanted a minute here to cast-- Zone of Truth!”

The last words are a shouted spell, cast from his wooden hand, which has its fingers on the ground. The earth glows all around them, and then suddenly everything ignites. The arm, the trees, the vines. John expects the fire on his legs to burn him, but it just feels pleasantly warm.

As he's squinting at the blaze, John feels Merle squeeze his arm a little tighter and cough. He looks down to see vines constructing Merle's chest, aflame but too thick to be burned through yet.

“Oh gods, Merle, are you okay? I can-- Maybe I can heal--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Merle wheezes gently. He moves his hand up to John’s head, running it through his hair. Then he presses their foreheads together, and they stay like that for a moment. “Destroy these bastards for me.”

And then John wakes up on the side of a dirt road.

★

At the end of the battle, John sees Merle once more. He’s sitting on the shore of the beach, looking like his normal self again. And there aren’t any trees in the sand or water-- only some vegetation scattered further away, where it would be on a normal beach. Far across the water, two suns are setting, one just slightly above the other.

Merle looks up and smiles at John, then pats the ground beside him. “Will you sit with me?”

John does, his mind swirling with questions and wishes and apologies-- something, anything to say to Merle before he’s gone. What does he say? Why can’t he get any words out?

“We don’t have to talk.” There’s an almost amused smile in Merle’s voice, like he knows what John’s thinking. “Let’s just watch this together.” He puts his hand on John’s, and they look out over the water.

When the first sun sets, and the other is three-quarters down, John feels the weight on his hand vanish, and when he looks over, Merle is gone.

Alone, he watches the other sun vanish, and then he is returned.

★ ★ ★

[arigathanksgozaimuch]

number 38 with na jaemin💛

38. “I like your laugh.”

Today, luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. First, youslept through your alarm. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it turned out your dadcouldn’t take you to school because he was already at work, leaving you to takethe bus by yourself instead. Fortunately enough, the bus didn’t get into anaccident nor break down, or else you would’ve been more than an hour late forclass. As soon as you entered the class, you were surprised to find that therest of your classmates were in the middle of a quiz, and that you were leftwith half the time provided for them to do the same. For the rest of the day,it was as if every single one of your teachers conspired to make today hell foryou.

Your only relief came in the form of your best friend,Johnny, whom you haven’t seen for the longest time. After his family movedabroad, you’ve tried all means of communication possible — Skype, FaceTime,ridiculously expensive long-distance phone calls, and even snail mail (for thatone time you were feeling poetic and suddenly got inspired to write him a nicelong letter). This time, you believed even just a five-minute phone call wouldsuffice.

As soon as you got home, you changed out of your uniform anddumped the contents of your bag on your study table. After getting ready with aglass of water — for when you feel dehydrated from ranting — and a box oftissues beside you, you sat on your bed and dialed his number.

It rang a few times, and as you were praying to God not tolet your call go to voicemail, he answered. Or, more realistically, he pickedup and you never gave him a chance to even greet you a hello because you’vealready started ranting your heart out. Besides blabbering about your day, youwent further, going as far as when you were mad at him for not greeting you onyour birthday three years ago (which was your fault, actually, for notremembering your difference in timezones). It was like a flood of everythingthat went wrong gushing out of your mouth and eyes.

Johnny did what he did best during moments like these. Hejust sat there on the other side of the world and listened to you until yourthroat felt dry from all the crying and talking. As you took your glass ofwater and sipped, your best friend found his moment to speak.

“I’m sorry. Who is this?” he asked.

And suddenly you weren’t so sure if it really was your bestfriend on the other line.

“Johnny, don’t be dumb. It’s me, [Y/N].” You would’verolled your eyes if they didn’t feel so dry from all the crying.

“[Y/N]?” the male voice repeated, and the way hesaid your name convinced you even more that this was not your best friend. Hewasn’t Johnny and he heard about your entire life story. “Is that Johnnyguy the person you’re trying to reach?”

“Johnny Seo, yeah.”

“You’ve dialed the wrong number,” the male voicesaid with a sigh. “I’m not—”

You clearly heard shuffling from the other end of the line,and you guessed that whoever this guy is is moving to go someplace else.

“This is Starbutts.”

There was a sudden pause on your end. Jaemin swore he couldalmost hear crickets from how long the silence lasted until, eventually, you spoke.“Did you mean Starbucks?”

“No,” he said. Clearly, this was something he hasheard and corrected a thousand times. “Starbutts.”

You didn’t speak, thinking you just heard wrong. Starbutts?!

And, as if he heard your thoughts exactly, he continued.“It’s a strip club.”

“A strip club?”

“A strip club.”

“A strip club?!” you repeated, making sure you were hearingcorrectly.

“The last time I checked, yeah.”

“So, do you—”

“No, I’m not a stripper, if that’s what you were tryingto ask. And I don’t watch— God, no. It’s my uncle’s. I just work part-time as areceptionist of some sort in a secluded room backstage. Just answer calls,answer questions, reserve seats in case someone’s interested… the wholeshebang.”

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs completely, youbegan laughing. Wildly. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed thathard. The situation was just too funny for you. Eventually, you’d calm down,but then you’d hear the male voice breathing on the other end and then youremember that a strip club could be called Starbutts. And if that weren’t funnyenough, this boy on the other end of the line was a receptionist. At a stripclub. Called Starbutts.

“It’s like a normal restaurant, though,” he addedwhen you took a break from laughing. Your cheeks started to hurt. “Exceptfor the occasional weirdos who would sometimes want to know who tonight’s performerwould be. It’s always awkward… Are you done now?”

“Yeah,” you said. A giggle threatened to breakfree again, but you managed to quell it.

“Did I make you stop crying?”

“Actually, yeah,” you replied, finally noticinghow you’ve barely reached for yet another tissue for your tears.“Huh.”

“What ‘huh’?”

“Nothing,” you quickly defended. “Just. Thankyou.”

“For what?”

“Making me laugh.”

“I didn’t even do it on purpose. I just mentionedStarbutts and you—”

You burst out laughing once more, though not as wildly asyou did a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the male voice said, a hint of smilein his voice. “I like your laugh.”

“And I’m sorry I dialed the wrong number.”

“That’s okay. It’s an interesting break from talking toold guys looking for fun.”

You snort. “I have to go, though.”

“Okay. And hey, if you ever need to cry about schoolagain, the Starbutts phone is always waiting.”

The thought gave you comfort. “Of course.”

Once you hang up, you sighed, feeling the dark clouds thatwere previously hovering over you disappear. You checked your phone andscrolled through your contacts to look for Johnny’s number.

He answered after the fourth ring. “Hello?” hegreeted, and now you were sure this was your best friend’s voice.

“Johnny!” you exclaimed. “I have a lot to tell you.”

Send me an idol and a number!

Masterlist

[isuzukuretsuki]

I remember a few years ago I volunteered at a festival in my town’s local J-town and there was a cosplay contest and one of the winners was a Cardia cosplay. At the time, I only knew Code Realize by name, but I thought that the cosplayer was beautiful beyond words. And I think fate’s finally run it’s course now LMFAO.

Anyway I’m done this game! and what can I say. this game is incredible. It definitely lives up to all the hype and praise it got and I think this game is one of my favourite otomes I’ve ever played. It just sounds like I’m riding the hype train because this game is treated like the holy grail but I think this game is probably my second favourite, closely behind Nightshade. I’m not really sure what more I can say other than I loved everything about this game from the bottom of my heart and I enjoyed every minute of it. anyyyyhoo more of my thoughts underneath the cut because it’s become sort of like a ritual for me to share my obnoxious opinions every time I finish a game! 

**SPOILERS**

okay I actually feel kind of bad for saying it but I kind of felt Lupin’s route to be a tad bit underwhelming?? I really enjoyed how Lupin’s route tied up all the other routes and gave all the boys satisfying conclusions if only Seven’s route was like that but idk the whole climax of wrecking Isaac with something as simple as bombs that he somehow didn’t figure out were there, and just magically getting rid of Cardia’s poison by letting Isaac suck all the energy out of her boobs just felt a tad bit trippy for my tastes?? The whole shebang on the Nautilus seemed to just drag on and on, especially with the whole Aleister and Sholmes business like I’m sorry I don’t care for any of these dudes.

**END SPOILERS**

Moving along, I didn’t like…. the majority of the villains. With the exception of Victoria (who is an amazing side character btw. Amazing villain in Fran’s route, amazing supporting character in Lupin’s route. what a woman), I felt like a lot of the antagonists were either really one note, shallow, or just flat out annoying. **SPOILERS** And that’s what made Lupin’s route that much more of a slog because you have alllll these annoying ass villains herded into literally one spot. Like I’m sorry to any Finis fans out there, but his Kaji Yuki screaming and five billion Naruto clones just started getting really annoying really fast and my annoyance with Finis ultimately triumphed my sympathy for him lmao. Still, he did deserve a better ending than just flying off the ship to his death like wtf?? Isn’t he alive in the Silver Miracles fandisc?? did he just magically come back to life??? **END SPOILERS**

My second biggest complaint is that I felt like a lot of the romance sort of depends on the common route? It’s driven by the character-center scenarios in the common route where Cardia gets to know the boys and bond with them because once you’re booted in a route Cardia’s immediately like “I think I’m in love!” and it just sometimes feels like it comes out of left field without taking the common route into consideration. and idk I just wish the routes were a little more independent and detached.

BUUUUT MOVING ALONG. Each route had their strengths and flaws, and while Lupin’s route is obviously the “true” one, I actually didn’t feel like Lupin really overshadowed the other boys? I’m glad that writers didn’t give the other boys lukewarm stories and lazily written routes because they all got the love they deserved, imo. I felt like every route offered a piece of the main puzzle; Lupin’s route was simply the route that unearthed the final piece. Each boy’s route dealt with a separate piece of the overarching plot line/conflict, which just made the world building of Steel London so much stronger. And I loved every last bit of it. I loved the steam punk aesthetic, the historical European setting; I loved all the political drama, with the terrorists plots, government corruption, hints of mystery, thriller, cringy shoujo romance etc. It was an adventure story through and through and boy did it reel me in. 

Cgs are gorgeous, backgrounds are detailed, ost is amazing and really made the scenes that much more emotional. Also kudos to the damn voice actors/actresses because boy this game has some damn good voice work. Maybe I can stop associating Daisuke Hirakawa with his creepy Laito-Bitch-chan-voice and start associating him with the beautiful man that is San now LOL.

The writing in this game is A+++. Absolutely solid. Finally, an otome game with a overly convoluted and complicated plot but no noticeable plot holes or unexplained loop holes! What an accomplishment! Jokes aside, I usually have a lot of writing complaints when it comes to otome games because I’m a critical bitch, but aside from minor gripes I mentioned earlier, I did really enjoy the game’s story and it had so many incredibly powerful moments that just made me had to walk around and take a quick break because of how shook it made me lmao. I loved the themes about atonement, forgiveness, humanity, the whole “humanity versus god” conflict, and I think in terms of complexity and depth of narrative, this game is def up there. I loved all the historical, literary, and religious references this game made and while it may not hold the integrity of the original source, it still made the story that much more fun and complex.

In terms of main characters… haha, I loved them all. They’re all precious children who deserve happiness and the world and I ended up getting attached to every last one of them.

Cardia tho? She makes this game, 100%. She truly lived up to her role as protagonist because she was the damn star. I’m very open about my appreciation for otome heroines and am very against heroine hate in general, but even still, this is the first game I’ve played where my favourite character was the heroine herself, not any of the boys. I love how kind hearted Cardia is. I love her strength, her bravery, how her character is so intricately woven into the story. But more than anything, I adored the character development she got. Code Realize truly is… her story, not any of the guy’s, not even everyone’s favourite man, Lupin’s. She’s so multi faceted and nuanced, maybe even more so than the guys. But I also loved the little quirks she had and those moments where she acts like a classic typical shoujo manga heroine made me smile like an idiot. She’s a fighter who hangs on until the very end and she’s the type of heroine that you just can’t help but pour your whole heart into rooting for. I really enjoyed how balanced her relationships with the guys were, it never felt like one out shined the other.  Shout out to Fran and Lupin for having the most romantic kiss scenes ever LOL.

As for the guys themselves, my fave order is prob San > Fran > Lupin > Van > Impey. Though if you include all the characters , It’d prob be something like Cardia > San > Fran > Lupin > Victoria > Delly > Van > Impey.

 Fran and San are really close because I loved them for different reasons and I think I enjoyed their relationships with Cardia the most. Fran and Cardia had really good chemistry and I loved watching them develop and grow together, where they both stood as equals who elevated each other, whereas San and Cardia had more of a tragic love that they both had to bend over backwards fighting for and it tickled my melodrama loving side //shot. I really adored all of the relationships Cardia had with the guys (and the friendships between the guys themselves) and while this game is mainly plot driven, I never felt like any of the character writing fell short. Everyone is just so memorable and multi faceted, you can’t help but love them.

anyway that’s enough ranting from me lmao. I regret only playing this game now since I’ve heard of it forever but better late than never. I really am glad to play this game and it’s def one of my top favourites. I’m done ranting and I’m gonna go cry now.

[phoenix-brevitas-yt]

Contacting a Phoenix

Welcome seekers of the Phoenix. Perhaps you’ve clicked this post to begin your journey as a Phoenix Worker. A craft most rare but not unheard of. Today we speak of more Phoenix Magick and what some would say “How to get Started.” (This is a long one sorry)

First a disclaimer: For any thinking they’re entitled to being met with a Phoenix on their first try will most likely never meet one. They don’t owe you. So if you’re only gonna be a spoiled brat then don’t expect anything to come out of this. Also these entities are not pets nor tools. Be respectful and kind. They can be your friends or your enemies.

☼° ∆—— •☽༓☾• —— ∆ °☼

Alright fantastic. Let’s begin! To start out we need to know in what way we’ll be contacting a Phoenix. Divination? Astral? Or maybe in a dream? It’s important you choose a way that best fits you. To use a method that’s unfamiliar or susceptible to failure will not do. Remember while your aim may be to contact a Phoenix you can’t account for what may come instead. There’s dangers in everything my friends.

☼° ∆—— •☽༓☾• —— ∆ °☼

Method one:

Many often choose to go into the astral. It’s perfect for finding and seeing them. In the astral however your susceptible to failure for many reasons. One; that another being could disguise itself and will try to trick you. Two; if you’re not experienced enough. Three; because you did not put up enough protection so something could come in and ruin the interaction.

How can we avoid the worst? By setting up protection. Before you begin make sure your space is cleansed and warded and that your cleansed and warded. Two make sure you have a spell running to make it difficult to be tricked. A sigil to see through deception should work nicely as well. Also TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS. Number one rule guys. Your instincts will tell you if what you’re experiencing is true or not. Or if something is trustworthy. What you may need to expect.

The plus side of doing things this way? Simple, by going into the astral you’ll be able to interact with it more directly. Conversations will be more clear unlike with a pendulum. Not only that but you’ll be able to see them for yourself. If you’re smart you’ll have already done research into the Phoenix and their appearances in different culture. Thereby letting you know what to expect from this Phoenix.

Now that we’ve discussed the important bits. Now is the time for what you’ve been waiting for. How to actually set up and contact one.

Like I said protection is key. Don’t even begin without it. A sigil and ward will work nicely but be prepared. You’re very vulnerable in the astral. From psychic to mental attacks. Even in danger of being possessed. Be smart.

Next you’ll need to decide if you wish to set up an offering. Your chances may increase that way. Smoke offerings are usually best. Choose a scent or herb blend for a specific energy you wish to offer. This is basically your first impression.

Once you’ve set up protection and have a safe space. Not to mention one where you won’t be disturbed. You will have to set your intention. Do this by speaking aloud or in your mind, “I seek to work with the Phoenix. By one or two. If it be you please show thyself to me.” Now of course this is just a dramatic way of doing it. Completely up to you how to word it. Just make sure you aren’t demanding they show themselves or anything that sounds like “Hey b!tch show yourself. Now.” You know?

What to expect? Well to begin expect nothing. Just let them come to you. You may feel like you’re waiting forever or just a few seconds. They come when they’re ready. Next, should one appear, they’re beauty and grace should bring an uplifting sort of vibe. Awe striking even. It’s okay to be nervous. But if they feel like they’re asserting dominance or off its best to walk away. It could be for certain reasons or it may be a trickster spirit. Either way it won’t be a good relationship. You can try again some other time perhaps. YOU SHOULD FEEL CALM AND SAFE. Sorry I had to make sure you’d hear me. The Phoenix may ask something of you or show you something or even set up some sort of contract. Listen closely and should you agree heed their words. They will not tolerate liars and fakes. So again trust your instincts. If it’s not right. It’s not right.

☼° ∆—— •☽༓☾• —— ∆ °☼

Method Two:

Now for divination. This is critical for continued communication regardless of how you choose to meet. Because you won’t always be able to meditate into the astral or have a dream. So having a set form of divination that can be on hand is essential. But what about meeting one through divination? How would this be done?

Well many would say scrying is the best way. To which I’d agree. Scrying with a crystal ball would be amazing cuz then you’d receive visions of what the Phoenix looks like and could even communicate via images. So what form of scrying is best? Obviously which ever one you know best. Or of course feel you’d have a better chance with. If just starting I’d suggest practicing first. Other wise the messages could get muddled and the experience will be crap. There are many types of scrying. Like scrying with a candle flame. Smoke. A mirror. Crystal ball. Water. All viable ways. For whichever you choose could hint at the Phoenix attributes. Like element or variety such as mix of culture or mythical creature. Be vigilant.

Tarot of course works as well. Spirit workers use it all the time. So it should work in this case as well. It definitely would get certain messages across much easier. Make sure to keep a record of everything.

Then we have ways such as runes, pendulum, any way you can think of. It should work. Just remember your choice can be limiting but also illuminating. It all depends on you.

The method of contact this way is the same. Your space should be cleansed as well as you. Also wards and protections should be up as well. State your intent. Then begin.

☼° ∆—— •☽༓☾• —— ∆ °☼

Method Three:

Now for the one I find most interesting. Certainly you’re asking why. Well to start, how exactly would one go about such an exchange? How do you prepare? Account for what’s a dream and what’s real? Sounds funny, huh? Dreams are known for their chaotic nature. Nothing is what it appears and yet the message so clear. Fear, joy, love, regret, etc. So what does one do to make sure the dream world doesn’t muddle your vision? Quite simply actually. Satchets, crystals, teas, herbs. The whole shebang. By preparing the body first, then the mind, the spirit may better venture and find what you seek. Of course the whole point is that the dream world show you these visions so you may encounter a Phoenix. So be prepared for a wild ride. The astral can be quite clear but also mysterious. Divination offers insight but not much clarity. Dreams are like experiencing everything at once and yet not at all. It can be maddening. Or humbling. Answers of the spirit is found in the astral. Answers of the body through divination. Answers of the mind can only be found through our dreams. For what could lay it out better then ourselves? Research is key here. Know your herbs, crystals, and teas for dreamwork. Even throw in some sigils. Having something for clarity should help a little too. Make sure your intent is made clear before and during sleep. You may wish to check to see if it was all just a dream or not by pulling out a pendulum or going by instinct.

☼° ∆—— •☽༓☾• —— ∆ °☼

Oof, so you made it to the end, huh? Good. Once again a worthy seeker. I realize my information may seem lacking but keep in mind this craft is scarcely under informed. Not many know how to interact with the Phoenix naturally or otherwise. Just that they existed and were sometimes worshipped alongside sun deities. It’s all I can do to put together information. Although I’ve had experience with all three of these forms of contact. I’ve astral traveled to see the Phoenix. I’ve dreamt of a meeting that actually happened. I’ll keep the details a secret for most of my experiences. I also choose to use a pendulum when I need to ask simple yes or no questions. (Still dislike it when I get a maybe or idk. Especially no answer.) But there is one other way I speak with them and that’s through some clairs. Clairvoyance and Clairaudience. Mainly Clairaudience. It’s been a major help to me understanding their personalities. Also feelings. Of course I can do it naturally but I still have to practice it. Otherwise I’ll continue to get mixed up. Just continue to trust your instincts and do things that feel right to you and you’ll be on your way to finding a Phoenix in no time.

Thank you again for reading this post. Also thank you for enjoying this series. I too have enjoyed it so much. Especially talking with you guys and truly getting to know there are others who want to know about these amazing beings like I do. If you want you can check my profile for even more posts on Phoenix Magick. (What do you think about the name Phoenix Worker? Better than explaining, “People who work Phoenix Magick,” all the time.)