#there was this alien crowd that was walking through the forest and one of the aliens jumped ON TOP of a foreground bush

[specialshinytrinkets]

The only good the fourth Kikoriki movie has served is proving that Pin is autistic. Fight me

[rottendollface]

Sons of Sin.

Request by: @bigtimesalt8196

Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.

Warnings: NSFW; Little Red Riding Hood AU, different lore of Archons, werewolf yandere Ajax, narcissistic Aether with sadistic inclinations, female reader is a radical believer, Ajax was born from a different man, incest, crowd collapse, cannibalism, unwanted marriage, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, oral sex, bestiality, fingering, knotting, slight lactation kink, planned murder, voyeurism, 18+.

W/C: 9388.

Art by: Pixart AI.

When the hunger awoke there was nothing more, but pain – pain of cracked bones and stretched out joints. Not a scream, but a feral howl could be heard, as Ajax experienced his first transformation in the deepest of the impenetrable forest. You woke up from the echoes of roar that made windows in your room rattle. You froze in your bed in fear, but curiosity took over you and you got up, coming to the window on your tiptoes. You looked out, and the yard was clean, no sign of someone's presence.

Without a candle you stepped into the darkness of the corridor and rushed to the nursery, where Teucer and Tonya lived. “It's me,” you whispered, opening the creaking door; you heard both of them sobbing and tried to calm them. “It's okay, little ones. That's our Patron Saint howling in the forest, foretelling the Blood Moon.”

You came to their shared bed. Both Tonya and Teucer curled in dread, hugging each other. Their bed stayed against the wall, so you took the unprotected side, hiding them behind your figure. Like a young gentleman he was, Teucer had always let Tonya sleep against the wall, as she was afraid of the dark. You felt Teucer clinging to you, and Tonya did the same, but to him. You reached your hand, trying to hug both of them at the same time. With you by their side, your younger siblings felt safe and finally relaxed.

“Sleep, my ducklings,” you soothed. ”There is nothing to be afraid of. Your older brother will do everything right. Have faith in him.”

Before the festival of the Blood Moon the oldest son of the head of the village had to step into the forest to present the gifts to the Patron Saint – Ajax was the chosen one, and you were praying for him to return from the mission safely. You knew he would be alright, yet you asked the Patron to have mercy on Ajax and bring him back home.

You were humming a chant until Tonya and Teucer fell asleep, then you got up and left noiselessly. In the corridor you saw a glimpse of candle light and Aether, your groom, appeared in front of you immediately after.

“Is everything okay?” Aether murmured, anxiety on his face. You sighed – no more frightened children for you tonight.

“Yes. Please come to your bedroom, Aether.” You patted him on his bare shoulder. “You shouldn't walk in a negligee. Someone could see you.”

“I'm sorry. You know, those sounds…” Aether became confused at how you raised your brows in mock and disbelief, so he coughed to change the subject. “May the rest of the night be good for you.”

“Same for you. Now, please excuse me.” You hurried to your room. Again, you peeked through the window to see at least traces of Ajax on the white snow, yet again you saw nothing.

Ajax was special to you. Frequent touches and an urge to do everything all together: it were the reasons father started searching for a husband for you. Father knew how a woman's charm could make a man's head clouded, and Ajax, who was born from a different seed, could fall for it easily. Father's concerns towards Ajax's and your relationship were vile, yet they were true – both of you fell for the same sin of incest. Ajax was the result of your mother's first marriage, so everyone in the family counted him as an alien, a descendant of a different breed, despite the fact that all of the family's children shared the same mother. He was treated with the same love and respect, but deep inside everyone in the house, except mother, thought of him as a stranger at home.

Mother's silent approval of your relationship with Ajax was the starting point of the communication turning into a love affair. For you Ajax's attention was something you craved for. Ajax was reliable, kind and brave. He was always on your side, ready to protect you from everything: Ajax could sacrifice the world for you, and you knew no one would treat you with as much respect and care as him.

Ajax understood his affection towards you was different from teenage years. Your figure and your facial features were much more elegant than other brothers' and sisters'. Your steps were imponderable, your moves were extensively gracious, and your presence was radiating with vitality and joy. Smile on your lips could make everyone's day brighter, and the tender gaze of your glistening eyes was the only thing every village man dreamed of seeing. You had a supernatural charm and used it instinctively, making everyone fall in love with you from just one sight. You were precious: hospitable and selfless. Everything Ajax admired in women was collected in you, making you the most desirable one, and the temptation of forbidden fruit made him lose his head over you. He knew you would be a perfect mother. Your love was a glory to him, and Ajax was dreaming about starting a family with you. He wanted to see you nursing his offspring, wanted to come home, and be greeted by your kisses and hugs from his children. Ajax was ashamed to admit to himself that he thirsted to see you breastfeeding his child. Once he saw mother doing that, and a scandalous fantasy appeared in his head, never wanting to leave. Just the idea of a child sucking on your swollen nipple and your breasts round, full of milk, made Ajax blush from arousal.

Maybe your beauty and virtue were the reason why Aether, the named prince of newly founded territories of Snezhnaya called the Abyss, agreed to marry you without hesitation. Both, Ajax and you, were shocked at the news of your approaching wedding. You rebelled: you didn't want to marry and wanted to spend at least five more carefree years in your family, not to serve some stranger. Father was sure he needed to send you out of the house, and the Blood Moon was the best time to do so. Father found a perfect man for you – Aether, an outlander from the capital who owned a business of search and excavation of minerals. He was a few years older than you, handsome and wealthy to be counted as a good groom.

Aether arrived at the village not so long ago, his horses were resting at the same stable with yours, and his carriage was staying in the backyard. He was welcomed, settled in the best room of the house and got surrounded by care from elders and waggish affection from children. Your family accepted him and tried to make him feel like home in your house, yet Ajax and you weren't sharing the same excitement from Aether's presence. You were acting demure and cold, while Ajax didn't try to hide his irritation and hostility towards Aether. Ajax hated the way Aether was walking around the house and eyeing everything with interest and confusion: unlike people from the Capital, you, the residents of the village in Snezhnaya's outskirts, had different beliefs and traditions that baffled outlanders. There was an altar with a self-painted ikon (it depicted a creature with a human body, but a wolf's head), surrounded by candles and flowers, on every door frame there were carved out runes, all the kids in the village were wearing bracelets of black tourmaline, and no bibles of Archons could be found in the whole village. The difference between Aether and your family was clear: he believed in the Seven, and you believed in the local God, which was branded as false and destroyed by the Seven. In the Capital you were called heretics, in the village Aether was called traitor. Ajax was a radical believer and outlander's ignorance made him furious. You could call yourself a radical too, but you had patience and didn't have problems with heathens, until they respected your faith.

Maybe the roots of miscommunication between Aether and you laid in the different background, maybe it was a fear of Ajax's fervent jealousy that made you avoid your groom. You knew for sure that you would never be able to betray your heart and chose Aether instead of Ajax. You didn't want him as your friend even: Aether's presence made you nervous, but you had to act like a welcoming person not to disgrace your family. From his side, Aether showed you signs of affection and seemed to be genuinely interested in you – it made you nauseous. You were tired of smiling at him and acting happy for the gifts he gave you, but you didn't need him and his trinkets. It was the bitter truth, but your father chose to stay blind to it. He made a good deal and didn't want to lose any profit from it: Aether's company got permission to extract minerals from the village's abandoned mines and sell them, but the half of earned money belonged to the villagers.

You got up earlier than everyone else and searched for Ajax. You found him in his bedroom, sleeping tightly from night events. You kissed him on the forehead gently – you wanted to ask him so many things but kept your curiosity tamed. You closed the door to his room and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the family. Aether came down when you were in the process of baking sweet buns. You tensed up, but couldn't do anything about it.

“Happy Blood Moon, Aether,” you gave him a wide smile. Today was the day of the festival, and you were looking forward to dancing, music and contests. “Give me a minute, please, and I'll serve you something to eat.” You placed buns into the oven and began to bustle around the kitchen.

“Aren't we supposed to wait for everyone else and eat all together?” His voice sounded deliberately uninterested. You opened your mouth to answer him, but felt his hands squeezing your hips, then his figure pressing to yours. It was easy to take you by surprise, as you were standing with your back to him. He bucked his hips into yours, making you put your hands in front of you to keep balance. Aether's warm lips brushed against your neck, his agile fingers were reaching under your heavy wool skirt. “We have plenty of time, and I know a faster way to pass it. With pleasure, of course.”

“No!” You clung on his wrists, clawing into Aether's skin until he hissed. “I don't want to!”

“Come on, don't be such a coy, I'm your groom after all. Not all the methods include penetration, if you are afraid of it.” He giggled, moving one of his hands to your breast. You tried to break free, but he just pressed you tighter between his body and the corner. “Didn't your mother teach you what is happening between man and woman?”

“I'm on my period!” You made one more attempt and this one was successful. Quickly, Aether got his hands off of your body and excused himself. He left the room so as not to embarrass himself and you.

You weren't so coy and shy as Aether thought of you. You laid with man and were no stranger for passion, but the only one who had access to your body was Ajax. Aether's touches made you disgusted, and the responsibility of sharing bed with him made you frightened. He expected to marry a virgin, while you were so experienced you could teach him the true art of carnal love. What would Aether do after convicting you of obscenity? You were frightened at this point. The only way for you to find an answer to how to hide your past was to confess to your mother and ask for help. You knew she wouldn't make trouble from it, yet you felt ashamed.

You spend about an hour alone in the kitchen until mother came; Tonya and Teucer ran ahead of her. Mother kissed you on the cheek first, then on your forehead. She was calm as always, it seemed like nothing could disturb her tranquility. Then father came along with Aether: they were chatting about something, both obviously pleased by the topic. Your heart dropped. You were waiting for Ajax, but it seemed he was too exhausted to get up so early.

The family took places at the table, and Ajax appeared at the doorstep. “Brother!” You exclaimed, happiness on your face and glint in your eye. You ran to hug him, when your arms grasped him tightly, you heard a silent groan. Ajax patted you back weakly. “How did it go?”

“Like it should. Perfectly fine.” Ajax smiled, yet on his tired face it looked poorly.

“Hail to the Saint Werewolf!” You raised your hands above your head and folded them in a prayer gesture. “May the Blood Moon wash the sins from our village and bless another year with a good harvest and enough prey.”

“Hail to the Saint.” Ajax repeated after you and made the same gesture.

Father gazed down, perturbed by your religious enthusiasm. He looked at Aether slyly, trying to find a shade of disgust or anger on his face, but Aether seemed confused only.

“It's good to remember about your roots, but we don't bring any religious manner to the festival anymore, dear,” father spoke to you loudly. Mother scoffed, and Ajax frowned his eyebrows immediately. “We should worship The Seven only, don't forget about this.”

“On our land we should worship our God, not the usurpers.” Ajax demanded. He pushed you back and stepped in front of you, ready to argue. “Everyone who comes into the village should obey its rules, or go away with their ugly gods. There is no other option.”

“He is right,” You took your brother by his hand and pulled back gently, shortening his temper. “We have a great history and shouldn't be ashamed of it. Shame is the first sign of vulnerability.”

You held your head high, irradiating pride in your brother and the strength of your beliefs, so did mother, smiling with the corners of her lips only. Tonya and Teucer were busy playing rock-paper-scissors and didn't care about affairs of adult life. Aether just shrugged his shoulders, as he didn't want the conflict to continue. Even for him it was clear that father, despite being in rule in the village, was treated with neglect and skepticism by his own family, but he seemed to be perfectly fine with it. Mother was ruling the family from the shadows and you took after her. You got control over Ajax, making yourself a second authority figure, and was in charge of solving minor problems. Since the first day here, Aether noticed that your older brother was following you everywhere like a dog and looking at everyone with a wolf's gaze, full of anger, when someone tried to communicate with you. Maybe it was the traditions of your community, but Aether didn't like it at all. Aether believed that a wife should be humble and afraid of her husband, and you were an untamed horse. He was looking forward to breaking your character after the wedding. It wouldn't be easy work for sure, yet there was something exciting in restraining someone so impetuous and mentally strong.

Breakfast went surprisingly peacefully. Hours were left until the festival, so children were playing in the living room, while Ajax, Aether and you were watching after them.

“So what great history is behind the festival's origin?” Aether asked, trying to start the conversation.

"In the festival we pay tribute to the sacred protector of the village – the werewolf." You explained with a merry voice, preparing yourself to tell the whole legend. "The legend says that long before Archons descended to Teyvat, the long forgotten God created the world. The God created human creatures, a man and a woman. To protect them, it created a wolf and assigned him guarding humans, but the evil rose from the underworld. The evil assured the God that his creations were too perfect and it would lead the world to imbalance – so to keep the sacred balance, the God's every creature should have a gift from the evil as well. The God agreed, and allowed evil to spill his gifts to his creatures. The wolf was gifted with envy, the man was gifted with hubris and the woman was gifted with fear. Once, when the God left its children without care, the man started treating the wolf with neglect. In order to make the wolf fear him and respect him, the man was beating the animal. The woman, afraid of her husband, was just watching the process with tears in her eyes. The wolf was watching how the man and the woman lived together, and he felt envy for what they had: the wolf, too, wanted a mate, but the God forgot to make one for it. That's why deep at night, when the man tried to beat the wolf one more time, the wolf attacked him and killed the first man in the world, and took his wife as its mate. After this night the Moon in the Sky turned red from the blood of the man, and the wolf hid in the forest with its woman, where she birthed him many children, half-human and half-wolf, and they founded many villages, where they passed their genes from one generation to another; they protected each other, as well as everyone else, who asked for protection."

“How can you worship the one who killed the first man? Why didn't your god punish the beast for that?” Perplexed, Aether recalled the holy scripture of Archons and found it way more fair.

“Because he deserved this.” Ajax grunted, clenching his fists.

“No one deserved nothing,” you hurried to make up for your brother. “It was the natural order of balance. Hubris took over the man and made him sin which led to evil imbalance. The wolf atoned for the guilt by protecting people and honoring his children to do so. The balance was restored.”

“Never should an animal have power over a man.” Aether shook his head. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ajax clenching his fists.

“Our God was killed by Archons and Archons ordered us to forget our roots. They pursued us into the depths of the forest because our religion is different and they tried to rewrite our history. We suffered enough persecution, so don't start a fight over such a sensitive problem.” You blurted out, noticing Ajax's anger building up. One more word and he would sprang at Aether. “We want peace.”

Aether gave up. He switched his gaze to a burning fireplace, musing. You did as well, letting anxiety take over you. Historically, only villagers were allowed to participate in the festival. By inviting Aether, father did him a great honor, but Saint Patron could get angry at this. Was the wealth of the whole village worth the feelings of one man? If you were the one to rule, you would have never allowed an outlander to the festival. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed heavily. Father was the only problem of your family. He led the village for twenty years, and during his ruling the faith was called into question. The movement of traitors, who believed in the Seven, became more popular with every year. Father tried to contain it, but gently, reluctantly even. You didn't know what to do. As an elder's daughter, you were acting the role of keeper of traditions. You finished the local church school and knew about dissent between priests, as you had seen it with your eyes while studying there. The village was falling apart slowly, and you were afraid the last day of it would come soon.

Before leaving for the festival, Ajax asked you to spare a moment for him. He waited until others left, then he took your hands in his, chattering indistinctly. Ajax told you he had to go and check for grandmother, then he pleaded you to be careful in his absence. You noted his hands were extremely warm and trembling, but Ajax assured you he was alright. He kissed you on your lips quickly and left. It was a simple kiss, yet you felt excited.

The celebration began after a solemn speech from father. Music filled the village, and the fair was full of delicious food, sparkling drinks and sweet pastries; on the main street a theatrical performance unfolded. Common happiness made the old grudges disappear. Aether was exploring bright intricate decorations with interest. Tonya cried to you to go to the contests, and you only managed to warn mother on where both of you were going.

Time passed quickly, but the festival was building up momentum. Tonya, excited after games, didn't want to go home and took you to the fair. Tired, you were following Tonya, who was running from one stand to another, choosing what to eat. She decided to have a slice of blueberry pie and a cup of hot tea. You paid for her, and finally took a place to rest. Tonya was full of energy despite hours of active games. After a short break she wanted to go see a performance on the main street. It was dark already, but lanterns of various colors and forms were lightened, making the atmosphere dreamlike – of course she wanted to stay for a little long.

Joyful, she finished her tea time. You returned dishes to the owner and took Tonya's little hand in yours. She was hopping and humming a song to herself. You stopped at the stage; actors were playing a scene from local myths: one of the actors was dressed in a wolf mask and fur, another had a red oblong devil mask. You weren't familiar with this story, so you focused on the performance. Tonya, who was waiting for something more funny, got bored. Skillfully made costumes and attention to details of the initial myth didn't impress her.

Performance moved to the conflict part: when the wolf-actor opened the mask's muzzle, a horrifying deep roar came out. Blood froze in your veins, at how naturally and loud the sound was produced. Actors stalled, both of them were confused and just looked at each other. You looked around and noticed an enormously big shadow approaching, but before you could do something, it attacked. In a moment a human howl of terror and pain covered the whole village, an uncontrollable panic started. Then followed frightened horses neighing and wailing of cattle. You almost managed to take Tonya up in your arms, and the crush started. Afraid, people from the front rows pushed everyone who was behind them; others, who were running to the main street were bumping into fleeing. You covered Tonya's head with your arm to protect it; it was hard for you to stay on your feet, as you tried to break out the crowd. Bodies pressed to you, didn't let you slip out, you got hit with elbows and the crowd was stepping on your toes. You were about to fall into hysteria, and Tonya's cry right near your ears made it worse. You pleaded to your God, and by attempt you slipped into free space, but you didn't run away for too long: the village fell in infernal chaos, the fair was engulfed in flames, and screams with running people made you lose your vigilance. Someone ran into you at full speed, knocking you down. You fell on your back, protecting Tonya, and hit your head badly. Your vision blurred, a piercing whistling going in your ears. You couldn't even understand the position of your body, but you felt how Tonya was shaking you, trying to bring you to your senses. You closed your eyes and her hands disappeared, so you opened them with great effort, yet it was so slow you saw only someone taking her away. You groaned and rolled over on your stomach, clenched into frozen ground and crawled. A bloody stain was left where your head laid.

You stood up on shaking legs, your head was pulsating with pain, making it more difficult to keep balance. In the distance you heard screams and roars. You looked down – snow was crimson with blood, and mutilated corpses with missing limbs and ripped out internal organs filled the street. The horrific scene made you feel uneasy at your stomach, yet it brought you back to a normal state, the pain didn't feel so intense anymore.

“Tonya!” You screamed, tearing your throat, but it was muffled by the deafening ringing of the church bell. You screamed again, hoping that she would give you a sign. You didn't care that you could attract the werewolf – it was the execution for sins, the fair end for non-believers and the retribution for the reckless deeds of your father. You were pure, but if in your destiny you were meant to die this night, you would meet your end with no fear. “Tonya!”

A shuffle started in the hangar and you rushed to check on it. Tonya looked from her hideout behind the straw bale. “I'm here…” she whispered and you fell on your knees in front of her, hugging her tightly. Tonya was shaking and crying, clinging to you – she was afraid that you died, but was too scared to go out and look for help. You were her last hope to keep her sanity clear.

“Hold on brave. Pray, Tonya. This is the only thing we can do.” You covered her ears, when there was a scream.

“What if Teucer, mommy?..” She didn't finish the sentence as tears made her throat spasm.

“We are pure, Tonya. Nothing will happen to us.” You cooed, caressing her back. Heavy steps behind the hangar made you strain. You stood up to check on what was going on and froze, when you saw a werewolf in front of you.

Tonya followed you and screamed after she looked from behind you back. For your whole life, you imagined a werewolf as a scary large wolf, but your imagination deceived you. It was a deformed ugly beast of a colossal size – it filled a big part of the hangar, making it impossible to leave. It had light fur, clumped with blood, its large mouth was full of teeth and long canines that protruded from the muzzle even when it was closed. Enormous paws were bigger than your head. Its blue eyes had no shine and looked wild, bloodthirsty. Its whole figure combined both features of human and beast in the most disturbing way: wolfish, yet still human muzzle with too sensible eyes and even emotions on it; beastly, yet humanly flexible body with long limbs. You made a step back, shielding Tonya.

“I know you want to save the faith, keeper of traditions.” The werewolf spoke to you, and you gasped in disbelief. For a moment you decided that it was a lie, an illusion of an inflamed brain, but it was true: the werewolf came closer, his muzzle up to your face, which made you back away in disgust. “Now it's time for you to perform your duty. You will go with me. I will be back in three days, waiting for you in a hollow. Keep silent about our conversation. Fail – and I'll kill everyone without mercy.”

Your eyes rounded and your breathing turned heavy. Did he mean you have to sacrifice yourself? You would do so immediately, if Tonya wasn't there… or was it just an excuse? You were exposed to death and nemesis that merged and embodied in the face of the Saint you worshiped, but you were filled with dread. You didn't want to die – only a look at ugly muzzle made tears pour down your eyes even though you didn't want to cry. It was an honor to die for your God, sacrifice yourself in order to save the whole village, but you weren't ready. Yet you nodded, and the werewolf roared, then retreated, moving his limbs like a spider.

Tonya clung on your coat, but you were standing frozen, trying to process everything that happened a moment before. Suddenly you regained composure, took Tonya up your hands and left the hangar. The whole village fell into dead silence: people were too scared to go outside and sat in safety, waiting for sunrise. The fair burnt out. By a miracle the fire didn't spread to the whole village and caused minor damage.

In the distance you saw Aether running from one house to another, searching for you. You wanted to scream for him, but couldn't – your voice betrayed you, letting out only a wheeze, so you headed to him, then your fast steps turned into running.

“By Archons!” Aether took Tonya from your tired hands carefully, his wide palm brushed hair fell on her face to check for wounds. “Are you both alright?”

The pain in your nape made you grimace. You were recovering from shock, and felt exhausted to the point of losing conscience. “Where's Teucer? And mom?”

“They are safe, hiding in the church with everyone else.” Aether shooed at Tonya, who started tossing and turning in his embrace, as she heard of another sibling. You looked at him with a gaze full of endless gratitude. “I… I wanted to say I'm sorry for my behavior. I've been vulgar… I just got too excited to know you better. I promise, I'll be a different man to you.”

“It's okay, Aether, everyone makes mistakes.” You didn't know what else to answer. His confession was so inappropriate, yet so sincere you couldn't let yourself break a rush of his soul. Maybe he was afraid he would die unforgiven and there was fear speaking through him at the moment – you didn't know, and you didn't want to know.

Ajax showed up on the street, bewildered at the scene in front of him. He bypassed corpses and puddles of blood, looking at it with interest. “What happened there?”

“A massacre!” Aether blurted angrily. “Where were you when all of this happened?!”

You looked at Ajax, then at Aether, not realizing the point of his outrage.

“He was at grandmother's. Why?” You shouted, a burning feeling in your chest, as you felt Aether tried to implicate Ajax in cowardice. Aether's eyes widened as he didn't expect you to snap at him.

“You chose the wrong time to fight.” Ajax stood between you and him, stopping the argument. “We have to carry Tonya home.”

Tonya pulled her hands to Ajax, and he took her from Aether with envy.

The night went like a fever dream and the morning after was even worse. From the earliest hour the mourning for the dead started and the whole village split in two radical opinions: old believers and traitors. The first demanded to send out the outlander and pray for forgiveness, then return back to original faith and worship the true God without looking back at Archons. Traitors claimed that the night revealed a true devilish nature of the former religion and recommended killing the beast and praying to the Seven. You took the responsibility and came to the crowd to declare the side of your family – as a keeper, you were wearing a red cloak with a hood, so people could see you easily. You tried to preach to the people, but most of them didn't want to listen to you. Crowd was screaming at you and calling you out to beg for forgiveness for every killed and explain why your family was safe and sound during the night. You were shocked to the point you lost your words, on which the crowd reacted with anger. Old believers, who were supporting you fully, started shouting insults at traitors; traitors lost their temper and started a fight. The brawl ended after Ajax took his rifle and made a couple of warning shots.

Even in one home there was a conflict of interests. Mother, Ajax and you chose the point of old believers, while father and Aether were insisting on the opposite. Aether was determined to take you and younger siblings to the capital, and father agreed with him. Father scolded you in front of all the family for your attempt to admonish the villagers, it was the first time he screamed at you. Yet it didn't last for long: Ajax jumped out from behind your back and seized father by the collar. You tried to pull Ajax back, but mother stopped you.

“He deserved this,” she whispered to you, looking at the scene with cold eyes. Mother had no pity towards her husband, her heavy hand was laying on your shoulder to prevent even a smallest attempt from you to stop Ajax: he was about to fight father, and for the first time father fend for himself and punched Ajax in his nose.

Aether tried to help father and in a moment the conflict changed its focus from religious controversies to jealousy over you. Madness that covered the village, made you fall on your knees and start praying, as there was nothing else left for you to do.

Disputes were lasting for the whole morning, until mother asked Ajax to go check on grandmother with her. You begged mother to go with Ajax instead of her – you loved grandmother dearly and didn't see her for ages. Despite her age she was lively, yet the way from her cabin to the village was too hard for her to go, so your family brought her provisions every month and visited her from time to time. Mother denied you, and they left the house.

Ajax and mother were coming through the dunes of snow and fallen trees in silence, as Ajax was depressed and only sniffed viciously, wiping away his nose the blood that was still flowing. Grandmother wasn't happy to see them together – it meant that something was coming off of the plan. She gave Ajax a long hug and a few kisses on his forehead.

“What happened to the boy?” Grandmother spat on the floor disgustedly.

“Stuck into a fight for the love of his life,” mother answered with a sneer, then clicked her tongue in irritation. “They're gonna drive me crazy. Everything goes wrong. Did you talk to her as a werewolf? What did she tell you?”

Ajax frowned. “Nothing. She was silent.”

“I don't think there will be any trouble with our dove,” grandmother squinted her eyes. “But with this capital's bastard, yes. I told you not to marry the village's elder. I hope now you understand why.”

“It was the only way for me to save Ajax after his father's death! There were times of hunger and stagnation, and he, as an elder, had always had a piece of bread at his table. How was I supposed to care for Ajax, hunt and birth other children for our plan?!” Mother cried. “And then I had to make them… fuck each other in order to save the bloodline! Do you think it's easy?”

“Yes, it is.” Grandmother stated, ignoring her daughter's roar. “I was able to marry a werewolf from another clan, but my sister had to lay with our brother, and she lived a happier life than I did. Unfortunately, after those seven usurpers appeared, they killed them all.”

“But she is half human… is it really going to work out?” Ajax said, finding his voice.

“You are worrying too much,” grandmother laughed at Ajax's perplexed face. “Yes, it will work after the ritual, dear. Just do it without thinking.”

“How can you say this?” Ajax was on the verge of tears. “Why does it have to be this way?!”

“Because this is the rules of our world. The world we inherited from our God. Keep your head up, Ajax. Don't worry about me and don't pity me. I lived my life here.” Grandmother laughed with a dry old voice.

“No!..” Ajax's hands started shaking. “What if she refuses… How is she supposed to react to that?!”

“Then we will kill her and wait for Tonya to grow up.” Mother stared intently at Ajax. Shivers ran down his spine at only thought of losing you and going through the same events again, but with Tonya.

“You are being too pessimistic.” Grandmother gave up on her and trotted to the cabinet. She took a vial from it and passed it to Ajax. “Three drops into her drink twice a day and she will be fine. Don't thank me.”

You ran away from the home and hid in the church, praying without pause. Blindfolded by your pride you thought of yourself as a holier than holies, when in reality you craved a vile sin of incestuous passion and hubris.

Aether tried his best to save his sanity, but he was on the limit. He was on the point of losing everything: starting with marriage and ending with his life – danger made him play reckless. Your presence was the only escape from that horror. He took you home from the church: you tried to stay, but Aether just grabbed you by your hand roughly and drew you out on the street. Aether felt that you were vulnerable – the perfect world you used to live in was falling apart, so his treatment became rough. From day to day you were more depressed and taciturn, you didn't react to his attempts to seek your affection and gave him meaningless kisses and hugs, lacking life and passion. Your despair drowned Aether in negative emotions as well, made him take love from you violently. He felt so useless, so unwanted here, it brought him so much pain he had never felt in his entire life. You were unfairly cruel to him – you made him burn with love and jealousy to your brother, who was basked in your care and support. Sometimes Aether thought that you loved Ajax like a man, but he didn't want to believe in it – Aether was so much better than him: Aether had power, money and glory; the fairest women from the capital were fighting for his attention, but he chose you. You should be grateful to him, you should fall on your knees and kiss his hands to express proper gratitude for his choice. You were no one, nothing, a descendant of some freaky family who worshiped a false God, yet you got arrogance suitable for a royal heir. Aether could do nothing with you, so he started to hate you. You rejected him – he would do even worse to you. He sacrificed so much for you, while you did nothing to please him back. Aether was done with it.

Despite the fact that you didn't want to escape, you were trapped in the village. Ajax made sure that you wouldn't be able to leave. Mother took care of Aether's horses – all of them were dead, and other horses in the village ran away or died in the Blood Moon massacre, cutting off all the possible ways of leaving. Clashes of believers didn't bother Ajax, but he had to participate in the religious processions to convince non-believers to return to their roots.

The night of the third day started. Tortured by his mind, Aether woke up and got to the kitchen to have a glass of water. It was dead of night, while everyone was sleeping and only chanting of priests could be heard from the street. Aether looked at the impenetrable darkness of the forest through the window. His vision started tunneling and he heard whispers. Suddenly Aether shivered and rubbed his eyes, then he heeded – and heard Ajax's voice. On his tiptoes, Aether followed the voice and happened into the corridor that led to the storeroom. The door was slightly open, so he peeked through the gap. He saw Ajax holding your face in his barbarian palms tremulously, and kissing you hastily.

“I don't care anymore!” Ajax snuggled to you, pressing you to his body like a doll.

“You know I will always love you. Why do you have to bring it now? We should go back… Ajax, please!” You pleaded, but he interrupted you with a desperate and impulsive kiss.

Aether froze, stunned, broken and disgusted. He didn't think of breaking your intimacy – Aether mercifully let you enjoy the last time you had Ajax in your arms. He watched Ajax rudely showing his hands under your skirts and destroy your fake shyness. Something made Aether stay and watch how Ajax was ravaging his bride. He wasn't gentle at all: Ajax tore your blouse so his hands could touch your breasts; pinching at your nipples, Ajax silenced your moans with his kisses.

Ajax knew Aether was watching. He smelled him long before he showed up in the corridor, but Ajax didn't care – on the contrary, he liked it. It was a simple way to show dominance to another male. Foreplay didn't last for long: Ajax was dying to have you, abstinence was mixed with approaching mating season, so he turned you to the wall and pressed on your back, to make you bend. Ajax unzipped his pants and put his fully erected cock inside you slowly, holding you by your hips. After making sure that you were okay, he took a fast steady rhythm. Ajax put all his frustration and desire to breed pounding into you. He needed to finish quickly not to wake someone from the family up, but he just couldn't have enough – he wanted much more than a quick fuck, his mind was clouded with wild arousal. Your wet cunt and shaky breaths mixed with his fantasies about you being pregnant with his children drove him insane. You were as needy as him, but the timing couldn't let you enjoy the moment the way you wanted. Your pussy was spasming around Ajax only to make him cum faster. Soon he came, filling you with his seed and fucking it further inside you. Aether left, while Ajax was helping you to clean yourself.

On the third day the village was covered with fights. No one could stay aside: fanatics involved kids even, so mother was hiding inside the house with Teucer and Tonya, while father and priests tried to calm everyone down. You looked at the crowd, embraced with fury, and doubted your decision of self-sacrifice. It would be better to destroy them, then build a new society from the ashes. Still, you said goodbye to Teucer and Tonya, gave a kiss to your mother, put on your red cloak and left the house, when the first star appeared in the sky. Ajax was absent for the whole day – you didn't want to go without talking to him, but you couldn't wait anymore. Immersed in your grief, you didn't notice Aether, who was following you with a shotgun behind his back.

You came to the hollow. Every step you made felt impossible and heavy, your heart couldn't keep a steady rhythm. When you were far away from the village, Aether took aim and made a shot. You screamed louder than he expected you to, and disturbed birds went up in the air with cawing. Aether grimaced – instead of killing you, he got you in leg. You fell on the snow, with your hand keeping pressure on the wound.

You looked back, and another shot followed, but it got into the tree, dangerously close to your head.

“Aether?..” You screamed in surprise. “Why?!”

“You know why.” Aether brought his gun up to his shoulder and pressed one the trigger, but nothing happened. He laughed maniacally and threw it aside. “You are a lucky one.”

“Werewolf will be here anytime! It'll kill us both!” Through pain and tears, you tried to come up with everything to save your life. Aether smiled widely and approached you.

“Archons, have mercy on her,” His voice thundered in between the trees. You tried to crawl away, but he stepped on your leg, piercing it to the ground, then kicked you in the chest, turning you over on your back. It seemed like Aether reveled in your scream, full of painful agony. “Do you know what they do in the Capital for incest? Execute.”

Aether sat on your hips, and grabbed your neck compressing it so hard your bones cracked. “Your father promised me a perfect woman, a dream of every man, and you seemed like one. Until I saw you and that bastard together.”

You tried to fight back, but it didn't help. Your vision got black and you felt that the pressure on your neck was unbearable. Just a little more and it would snap. His delirious rantings stuck in your head as a dull, repetitive echo.

A guttural roar sounded almost in your ear. Suddenly all the pressure was gone, your vision came back in unusually vivid colors. You closed your eyes, but unbearable pain and shortage of air made you open them. You breathed in avidly, gasping for cold air with your mouth and your chest felt like burning. You looked at the wound on your leg, it seemed like a bullet went through your body, making it even worse. An ugly torn mess of flesh and blood made you nauseous. Aether's scream made you search for him with your eyes, and you noticed his legs twitching under the werewolf’s body. Blood was gushing everywhere. Werewolf let go of the remains after his scream stopped and rushed to you. You looked at what was left and gasped: one of Aether's hands was missing, his lower jaw was torn off and all his body was covered in bites and lacerated wounds.

“Get on top of me,” it spoke to you and laid to aid you. You sat on the werewolf without wasting words, and it ran into the depths of the forest.

Soon you realized that you stopped at grandmother's cabin. You dismounted in disbelief and came closer to the door, then glanced back. Instead of a werewolf, you had seen Ajax in front of you. Puzzle in your head had formed into a whole picture, still you were taken aback. You would better believe that all of it was a delusion, a floating vision or just a fantasy.

“Why didn't you tell me?” You asked, but Ajax took your hand and walked you into the cabin.

“You chose the wrong time to ask. Sit.” Ajax was nervous, twitching. He put you on the chair and placed a bowl with something that seemed to be soup. “Eat this. Now.”

He sat in front of you and watched your every move with wide, insane eyes. You looked at the dish with suspicion and took a spoon unwillingly. It was too red, with pieces of lightly fried meat and boiled potato. You took a piece of the meat with a soup and some potato, and placed it into your mouth. The broth was impossible to eat, as it was too bitter and salty, and had a jellied structure. The meat was horribly tough and wiry. You felt vomit coming up to your mouth and wanted to spit that meat out, but Ajax ordered you to swallow in such a rough tone you shrugged and swallowed it in fear. You covered your mouth, trying not to puke, but you felt uneasy in your stomach and your throat started to spasm.

“Don't you dare do this!” Ajax jumped up from his seat and ran to you, pressing your hands to your mouth with his. “Don't waste it!”

His voice broke from deep to pitching, it was full of despair and resembled a lament.

“Why?! What is happening here?!” You drew his hands away, screaming, tears running down your face. “Where is grandma?!”

Ajax just gave you a blank stare, your face fell. You looked at him in disbelief, then another wave of hysteria covered you.

“Where is she?..” You went white at realization. The room fell silent for a moment then you cried out.

Ajax was confused. Grandmother promised that one bite would be enough, but he wanted to make sure and force you to eat more. All that was left of her was a bowl of soup, and you looked at it with dead eyes, as you tried to deny the truth. Ajax got you a glass of water with three drops of the potion. You drank it in one gulp and stared at the soup again.

“How could you do this?” You asked without looking at Ajax.

“Grandmother ordered me to do so. I had no other choice.” Ajax sat near you and took a spoon, then filled it with the soup. “Please, open your mouth. You need to finish this.”

Ajax couldn't look at you crying and being so broken. In one day you aged up on years from all the events that happened to you. Your wound wasn't treated yet and still caused you pain, but it couldn't compare with your storming emotions and grief. It was an inhuman and gruesome act of violence. You didn't even say goodbye to grandmother before she died in such a horrible way.

Slowly you started feeling tranquil. Your head clouded and all the senses dazed. Ajax managed to feed you the whole bowl. You watched him without interest and just sat in your place, before you fell asleep.

You woke up from a horrible dream, but found yourself in grandmother's bedroom. Your leg hurt, remembering you, that everything you saw in a dream was real. You just laid on the bed, looking at the ceiling and trying to accept what had happened. It wasn't easy at all and you didn't even want to leave the bed to search for Ajax. Was it planned by God? Was it your initial role you were created for? You got too many questions, but had no answers.

The whole week passed before you were ready to meet Ajax. You noticed that your sense of smell was keener and your hearing improved. You could hear Ajax walking in the house and detect in which part of it he was exactly. Bedroom was the back room of the house, so normally you wouldn't be able to smell freshly prepared food, and now you could smell it as if you were staying near the stove. To your surprise, your wound healed in a couple of days and left only a hardly visible scar.

Ajax gave you time for yourself and didn't bother you this week. Being alone did him good: he too let go of his worries and became mentally stronger. He wanted to explain everything to you and hoped you were ready to hear him. The story wasn't long: Ajax told you that mother and him were the direct descendants of the werewolf family that founded the village. Unfortunately, his father died and mother had to remarry to a human, hiding her true identity even from her children, as all the other werewolves were killed by Archons and their followers. To continue the bloodline, living heirs, you and him, had to inbreed, but your half-human origin was the sticking point: to awaken the werewolf genes and pass them to your kids you had to devour someone from your family, and grandmother volunteered. Yet you couldn't transform and had a limited number of abilities from being a werewolf.

You accepted the truth calmly, and your reaction frightened you. You didn't know was it normal or not. At least it made sense. You didn't want to think about it anymore and wanted to adapt to a new lifestyle quickly.

Ajax and you lived solitary, no one visited you, and you didn't come close to the village as well, leaving old life behind. It was hard to you to get used to Ajax's werewolf form, so Ajax tried to spend more time with you as a beast.

Ajax licked your face, and you giggled from the tingling. His tongue was nicely warm, yet covered in sticky saliva. It didn't scare you when he was this playful. When you were in the mood to have fun, you licked his nose back and hugged him, nuzzling into his soft fur. It wasn't rare for you to fall asleep on him, as his body was soothingly warm.

Intimacy became unusual due to Ajax's new size. Stroking his body, like you usually did, you were slowly letting your hand down to his cock. Kissing was strange: Ajax licked your lips and showed his long tongue inside, caressing the insides of your mouth with it. Your hand was stroking his cock gently, circling against the tip lightly and putting force at the shaft. Ajax was already leaking, so you broke the kiss and bent to his awaiting cock. Starting with licking the tip, you spitted on it, easing the slide, and took it inside your mouth. It was bigger, making it harder for you to suck him, but you tried to stroke other parts with your hands and rubbed on the knot to save the pleasure. Ajax felt his knot swelling, so he didn't let you to continue. His animalistic impulses told him to fuck you and he had no power to resist them. Ajax made you lay on your back, his tongue licked your pussy, prepping you for penetration. It swirled over your clit, sliding down to your hole, rubbing with pleasurable roughness. As a werewolf, Ajax scented your pheromones and your special smell, that busted his arousal. He noticed you biting your lower lip in anticipation and he didn't wait anymore. Ajax thrusted inside, your long moan made him catch a faster and rougher pace immediately. His beastly cock made you feel your insides stretching to accommodate the size. You were full of him and there was no escape from the pleasure, as your mind went blank, making you focus only on the sensation of being pulled on his cock. Ajax licked your face, and it ignited you, your moans became louder. You felt breathless in ecstatic bliss, every skim of the big tip of his cock through your folds made you move your hips for more. Your fingers reached down to your clit and you started rubbing it, as you felt that you were about to cum. Ajax made a powerful thrust and filled you fully with his knot just before he finished inside, groaning. Your pussy sucked him in fully, clenching and trembling around his cock. At the sensation of his hot thick cum stretching your womb you came next, your orgasm spurting around him. You were exhausted and breathed heavily, yet again you felt Ajax loading new portion of cum inside. He came several times, until your lower tummy bulged, only after that knotting ended.

During mating season Ajax didn't let you escape the bed. He didn't have enough of you both in human and werewolf forms, it was up to you to decide how you wanted to accept him. You were so full of his seed the bulge on your lower tummy didn't disappear for days and cum was leaking out of you whenever you didn't expect it to. Ajax made sure to give your pussy a relaxing massage, rubbing gently your insides and your clit at the same time. Curling his fingers he pressed knuckles against the most sensitive parts inside you, instantly felt your folds covering them. Ajax sucked on your nipples, licking them slowly, while his fingers penetrated your sopping hole. As a human Ajax was way more gentle: he gave you sensual kisses, lazily playing with your tongue, stroked the smooth skin of your belly, imagining it to be swollen with his pups. Ajax was the happiest man on Teyvat, as he had you by his side. The bond you shared with him was sacred, Ajax would kill anyone to protect you, the center of his world. Your embrace made him feel alive, he didn't need anything more, but to press his face at the crook of your neck and just inhale your sweet scent.

Ajax's dreams were destined to come true. Every time he was back home, his children ran to hug him, and you, pregnant with another kid, hurried to give him a kiss.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Something New || Part Two -

Pairing: Jake x fem! human/avatar!reader x Neytiri

Synopsis: You and Jake get hauled into hometree, thrown before the feet of the Olo’eyktan. As you and Jake fate is being determined Neytiri stands off to the side and begins to grow feelings for both of you.

Content/Warnings: strong language, suggestive content (if you squint), mentions of nudity (if you squint), mention of death, Jake being a flirt and kind of a tease, Neytiri being a lowkey lover girl, fluff ending, some comedic moments (at least to me😭)

Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy part two!

- Please excuse any mistakes!

- Bold and italicized words are characters speaking Na’vi

Word Count: 3k

Extra: requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

← Part One Part Three (coming soon)

While everyone was gathered around hometree doing their normal day-to-day activities suddenly there was a rumble of commotion.

All the Na'vi looked around in confusion, wondering what was causing the disruption. A few minutes later they saw warriors drag you and Jake through the center of hometree.

"We found these demons roaming around the forest", one of the warriors spoke as you and Jake were shoved to the Olo'eyktan's feet.

"I do not want these dreamwalkers here!" Eytukan looked down at both of you with fire in his eyes, after the death of his eldest daughter he stopped allowing avatars and humans into the clan since they were the cause of Sylwanin's death.

"Their alien smell fills my nose" The comment earns chuckles from the surrounding clan members.

You and Jake just sat there, looking at each other with confusion written all over your faces, not knowing what they were discussing since they were speaking in their native tongue and not English.

As Eytukan and the rest of the clan erupted into their own conversations; making humorous comments and talking about what your punishment should be for stepping foot onto their land you heard a strong voice, "STEP BACK! I WILL LOOK AT THESE ALIENS!"

All the chattering that was once echoing hometree was silenced as they heard the voice of their Tsahìk. Mo'at walked in making her way through the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea for her to walk with ease.

Not too far behind her was Neytiri, trailing her mother's path to the aliens the warriors have discovered.

Mo'at went and planted her feet next to her mate, "Stand Up! Both of you!" Mo'at's tone was stern, you could tell she meant business so you and Jake immediately pushed yourselves up on your feet.

Mo'at began to circle you and Jake, inspecting both of you from head to toe. As she walked behind you she wrapped her hand around your tail, "What are you called?" Mo'at asked as she looked you up and down waiting for your answer.

"I'm y/n l/n.."

When Neytiri saw you something clicked within her, she remembered you from when you were roaming the forest. When she saw your full face she was in awe of your beauty, to her you were the most gorgeous woman she's ever laid eyes on. She scanned your body up and down from your thick black hair that was styled in curls to your tight-fitted tank top that hugged your breasts just right. Neytiri was enchanted by your looks, it made her intrigued with you.

'Maybe this is why Eywa wanted to spare her' Neytiri thought

"And who is this?" Mo'at gestured to your boyfriend as he stood next to you

Before you could answer her question he decided to speak up for himself, "I'm Jake Sully"

Neytiri looked over at Jake and she took a liking to him as well. His long slick hair, his strong frame, and the way his muscles were attempting to protrude from his shirt. She could sense that he had a strong heart which is an attribute she admired, and he had a powerful aura that drew her to him even more.

Every few seconds Jake would glance at Neytiri, giving her a soft smile with attraction filled in his eyes. Neytiri caught his actions and it caused a light blush to spread across her cheeks that thankfully went unnoticed by everyone around her.

She knew that Jake would be trouble, but in a way that she would eventually grow to love.

Her thoughts about you and Jake were running through her head relentlessly, it was as if she was mesmerized by the both of you.

She shook her head slightly, focusing her attention back on her mother Mo'at as she spoke, "Why have you come to my home? why are you both roaming our forest?"

"Jake and I have come to learn and understand the way of the Na'vi" Your tone is soft but still held confidence, showing that you weren't afraid or intimidated.

"We have tried plenty of times to teach other sky people our ways but they do not listen, they do not embrace our teachings and learn our traditions..."

Mo'at and Eytukan turned to each other and spoke quietly, determining if they should allow you, aliens, into their home.

As Neytiri look over to her parents and saw the cold look bestowed on their faces she could tell that they weren't going to allow you to stay so she decided to step in, "I will teach them our ways, Mother. If anything happens they will be my responsibility, I will take the blame for their wrongdoings"

Mo'at looked at her daughter with a slightly amused yet confused look, whenever other dreamwalkers came seeking to learn the way of the Omatikaya Neytiri was always reluctant and refused to teach them so for her to offer her help surprised Mo'at.

Mo'at pondered on Neytiri's offer while trying to hear from Eywa before she makes her final decision. As Mo'at clears her mind and opens her heart for any type of sign from the Great Mother she feels a small breeze glide across her skin as a small still voice rang threw her ears, 'Let them live among the clan... allow them to learn our ways'

Hearing the voice of Eywa gave Mo'at the guidance she needed, even though she was hesitant about allowing you and Jake into their home she knew that Eywa knew what was best and would never steer her wrong.

"Fine daughter, you will teach them. You will show them how to speak and walk as we do" she spoke directly to Neytiri before turning her heels to face you and Jake.

"It is decided, we will see if your insanity can be cured" She darted her eyes between you and Jake with a stern glare on her face.

"Daughter take them to change into our traditional wear so they can dispose of these sky people clothes"

Neytiri stepped out from behind Mo'at and walked in front of you and Jake, "Come with me" she said as she began to lead both of you to another part of the hometree. You and Jake did as told, following behind her as she lead the way.

- timeskip -

(At this point Neytiri has already introduced herself to y/n and Jake)

You, Jake, and Neytiri were currently in the seamstress pod since both of you needed new articles of clothing that were more suitable for the Omatikaya lifestyle.

Neytiri and Jake sat down off to the side as you got situated with the seamstress, "Come here child" the older woman spoke to you as she grabbed her materials to take your measurements.

You walked in front of her and she began to measure your body with a piece of vine, "You're well-endowed compared to the woman in our clan but I think I still have something that'll fit you" the woman says as she looks through her basket filled with a variety of breast coverings.

Your avatar body type was different from the normal Na'vi physique. Your body was curvier, your breast were slightly larger and your hips were wider. In your human form, you were blessed in your backside region and since your DNA was mixed with Na'vi genetic material you also had that physical trait in your avatar body as well.

"Ah here's one, this should fit you perfectly" The woman handed you a breast covering that was made with cloth woven material and was decorated with multi-colored feathers and a few carved wooden beads.

She then looked in another basket and handed you a loincloth to match, "you can go over there and try them on" the woman pointed to a dressing screen off in the corner of the room.

As you began to walk over behind the screen you feel a presence behind you so you stop abruptly and turn your heels, "Jake why are you following me?" you asked him as you see the mischievous expression on his face

"I assumed you would need help... you know putting on your new clothes..." As Jake talked to you his eyes just keep wandering to every part of your body but your face

"Bye Jake you're just trying to see me naked" You begin to shoo him away from behind the dressing screen so you could have some privacy and change without his gawking eyes

"I mean why not, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before..." Jake says as he walks closer to you, putting his lips to your ear lobe and begins to whisper in your ear

"You weren't so against me seeing you naked last night" A smirk curls on his lips as he plays last night's events through his head

As his words travel through your mind a heat flows to your face as you become flustered. Jake always knew exactly what to say to make you turn red in the face, "That's different Jake and you know it"

A chuckle emerges from his lips as he felt your hands against his chest pushing him away, "fine I'm going" he puts his hands up in surrender as he turns around and walks outside the pod so he could some fresh air.

With Jake gone and you now having some privacy so you were able to put on your new wardrobe.

The dressing screen you were changing behind was made of cloth woven which meant it was thin material and was see-through in a way. As you were undressing from the other side of the screen you could see your silhouette. From your curvy hips and slim waist, your body's outline was on full display and there was a pair of eyes who were watching it intently...

Neytiri

The way your body's silhouette looked Neytiri could only fathom what you would like up close, she wondered how your body would look against hers, she wanted to know how her hands would look against your-

"Neytiri how does it look?" You asked her

Neytiri was so far in her daze she didn't even realize you’ve been standing in front of her. As Neytiri looks at your outfit her eyes fall to your breast, she loved how they sat up with ease and how full they were. She wasn't used to your body type but she loved it, she loved how your body was unique compared to hers and the other Na'vi women in the clan.

"It looks great, it fits you well" Neytiri tells you with a soft smile as she stands up

"Thank you, I just feel like it's so revealing" you chuckle softly as you try to adjust your breast covering. You never were the type of person to wear revealing clothing because you didn't like the attention it brought so this was definitely out of your comfort zone.

"This is normal in our clan, when you see the other clan members and get used to our way of life that feeling will subside" Neytiri places her hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly to give you a sense of comfort.

"Thank you, Neytiri"

"Let's go back to the clan, communal dinner will be starting soon" Neytiri says as she walks toward the entryway of the pod. You follow behind her and make your way outside to see Jake walking around in circles, practically chasing his own tail which makes you shake your head while laughing at his shenanigans.

When Jake hears your laugh it makes him stand up straight and he tries to act as if he wasn't doing anything. As Jake's eyes wander over to you he looks at you in awe, "Damn y/n you look... wow" he was practically speechless at the sight of you. You were a true work of art in his eyes, he loved you in any and everything you wore but this... seeing you wear this type of clothing made him feel... different.

As you walk over to your boyfriend Neytiri walks ahead and goes to communal dinner and leaves you two alone.

"Do you like it?"

"I more than like it, I fucking love it" he says as he grabs your hand and spins you in a circle so he could see every inch of you.

"You really like it?" you say as a small smile spreads across your lips from his enthusiastic demeanor

"Yeah I mean look at you" he says as his eyes trail down to your backside, "If we were back at the lab I would have you bent over right now" As the words fall from his lips, you feel his hands come in contact with your ass.

"Jake! That hurts" you whine as you rub the spot where his hand was. Even though you complained about him smacking your ass you loved it and he knew it too. Every time he did it your lips would unknowingly curl into a small smirk which Jake always noticed.

"I'm sorry baby you know I just can't keep my hands off you... especially when you’re looking this good" As he looks down at you all he could do was try to restrain himself as best as possible, he wanted to pounce you right here, right now.

"We'll don't get too excited because you won't be able to hide it" you say with a small giggle as you point to his lower half that was covered with his brown loincloth.

Jake just laughs at your remark, "I'll try my best"

"Good now let's go join the clan for dinner, it's our first day with them and we need to make a good expression" You grab his hand and begin to lead him to the communal dining space.

You were excited to join the clan like this, you were hoping to learn some more information about the clan and maybe build a relationship with some of the clan members.

As you and Jake get closer to the communal area you can hear the Na’vi laughing and chatting, just them having a good time with one another creating a stronger bond as a clan. You admired that about the Omatikaya, you loved how close-knit they were because you never really had that growing up.

When you and Jake are footsteps away from the clan they all become silent and stare intensely at both of you. With all their amber-colored eyes on you, it made you a little nervous but you didn't let it shake you.

"Excuse me" you said softly as you walked through the crowd of Na'vi who were sitting down. As you gracefully walked through the path of people your boyfriend wasn't having the same luck. He was stepping on people's tails which caused them to hiss at him and he almost tripped over his own feet, when both of you got to where Neytiri was sitting you placed your hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the ground so he wouldn't embarrass himself any further.

He crouches down on side of you while you sit down next to Neytiri, "Here" Neytiri passes you two leaf plates, one for you and one for Jake. You pass Jake his plate and he begins to shove the food in his mouth which makes you laugh, "Jake slow down the food isn't going anywhere" Jake just nods his head in response, not letting up from his meal.

"These rock, What are they?" Jake questioned as he looks in Neytiri's direction

"Teylu, what you call beetle, larvae" she answers as she places a piece of Teylu in her mouth

He stops chewing for a second, looking off to the side before responding, "well this is some damn fine Teylu, like grandma's Teylu" he says with a slight grin as he continues to chew

Neytiri smiles at his response, "more Teylu" she reaches over and begins to place more Teylu on his plate since he was so fond of it. Jake didn't decline more food since he was starving from not eating all day.

As the evening progressed you and Neytiri made small talk, you both asked each other small questions just to get to know each other better. It was fun talking to her, to you she was nice, sweet, and even a little funny at times. She also had a fierce personality which you liked, you thought she would be a great person to be friends with.

As the night progressed the clan began to walk to their homes, as everyone went their separate ways Neytiri decided to show you and Jake where you would be sleeping for the night.

"Follow me, I will show both of you where you'll be staying" You and Jake began to follow Neytiri into the part of the village that has numerous pods that were filled with families.

Neytiri guides both of you to an empty medium-sized pod, just enough space for you and Jake to live in. "You and Jake will live here when you stay in the village, it is already filled with everything you'll need. I will come by at sunrise tomorrow so I can start your lessons"

Neytiri bids her farewells and then you and Jake walk inside the marui. Today was a long day for you and all you wanted to do was sleep, you dragged your feet over the makeshift bed and slumped into it.

"Today was crazy wasn't it?" Jake said as he plopped into bed next to you

"Crazy is an understatement. I never thought I would run from a thanator, jump into a waterfall, get snatched up by Na'vi, and then get dragged into hometree... this definitely was an interesting day, to say the least" you say as a yawn slips through your lips.

"Let's just get some rest huh?" He pulls you into his embrace and kisses your forehead lightly.

"Yeah I'm super tired" You rest your head on his broad chest while wrapping your arm around his torso. You always love being under him like this, he always gave you a sense of comfort. Feeling his arm wrapped around you made you feel protected as if nothing could harm you.

Both of you lay intertwined with each other and listen to the sounds of the forest, after a few minutes you and Jake's light snores echo throughout the pod. You both sleep peacefully through the night, finally feeling relaxed from today's events.

Previous || Next

I hope you enjoyed💗!

Like, comments, & reblogs are highly appreciated💗!

A/N: shoutout to @ghoul-bonez for beta reading this for me, you’re the best💗!

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[holly-the-trash-writer]

Halloweentown🎃

Eleventh Doctor x Fem!Reader

Written for an annonymous ask. I hope you enjoy it!!!

Synopsis: It's Halloween and the Doctor has the best place in mind to take Y/n. A planet called Halloweentown of course!

Word Count: 1,832

“Halloween. All Hallows’ Eve.” The Doctor lists as he flips switches on the Tardis console, “Or as the Celts call it Samhain.” 

Y/n grinned, “Yes, I’m familiar with the concept.” 

“Ah.” The Doctor grinned and pointed both fingers at her, “But are you familiar with the planet.” 

Y/n’s eyebrows raised, “The... planet?” 

“Yes. The planet. Halloweentown.” The Doctor giggles as he spins around the console to put in the co-ordinates. 

“There’s a planet called Halloweentown?” 

The Doctor walked up into her face, “Are you going to repeat everything I say?” 

“No. Sorry.” Y/n blushes. 

He fixes his bowtie and smirks, “Actually. I quite enjoy it.” He winks before spinning and yanking on a lever that makes the Tardis shake. 

Y/n yelps as she stumbles and grabs onto the railing, “A little warning would have been nice!” she screams. 

The Doctor just laughs hysterically as they travel through space until the Tardis dings and comes to a sharp stop, causing the two to crash to the ground in a fit of giggles. 

The Doctor stands and shakes his head, “Come on, no time to waste lying around on the floor.” 

Y/n’s eyes widened, “No!” 

The Doctor span back to her, “No?” 

“We can’t go without a costume!” 

The Doctor shook his head, “Oh, alright. Go on then.” he gestures towards the wardrobe. 

Y/n grinned and sprinted down the stairs to go to the wardrobe, “You better have one on too when I get back!” 

- 

The Doctor checked his watch and sighed, “Come on you! Halloween will be over by the time we get there.” 

“I thought it was a planet?!” She yelled back. 

“Yes! That’s entirely my-!” His jaw drops as she walks up the stairs, “Point.” 

She walked up in the stairs in one of his button up shirts, tucked into a short black flowy skirt, black tights and black heeled boots, she had on a tweed jacket and a red bow tie. All topped off, quite literally, with a fez on her head. 

She took one look at him and laughed. They were both in the same outfit. The Doctor had even put a fez on his own head. “So, what do you think?” she twirled in a circle. 

The Doctor stuttered as both of his hearts banged in his chest. 

Y/n grinned and approached him, gently pushing his jaw back up, “Shall we?” 

He grinned and pulled open the Tardis door, gesturing her to exit first. 

Her feet landed on a stone path as she looked up and gasped. 

Everything you ever thought Halloween should look like was right in front of her. 

A dark cobblestone path stretched out in front of her, forests at sides of the path that were contained by black wrought iron fences. The leaves were bright orange as they clung to branches and dusted the ground. Jack-O-Lanterns lit the path up to what seemed to be the centre of a town. 

The Doctor shut the door and walked up beside her, a smug grin on his face as he extended his arm. 

She looked up at him in amazement before she looped her arm through his and their boots clicked up the stone path. 

“Is it night-time?” Y/n asked as she looked up at the sky. 

“No, it’s dusk. The planet only fluctuates between dusk, night and dawn.” The Doctor explains. 

Y/n nods, “How do they tell the difference between dusk and dawn?” 

The Doctor stops dead and looks up, “I don’t know...” he looks at the sky in wonder before a smile broke across his face. “That’s new. I love not knowing something.” 

As they got closer to the middle of the town they heard a crowd, cheering and music. At the end of the path stood two old iron lamp posts but she couldn’t see anyone around. 

“Doctor? I can hear people.” 

“Wait for it.” The Doctor whispered before they stepped between the lamps. 

She shivered as they stepped through some kind of force field and the town came to life. 

There were stalls everywhere! Like some huge festival. People, children and aliens. Dressed up as all sorts and some weren’t even costumes. 

She span around trying to take it all in. All the different beings at stalls, selling potions, lanterns, voodoo dolls, crystal balls. You name it, it’s here. 

There was a large wooden sign post with different activities all on different arrows. 

Pumpkin Carving. 

Witch Racing. 

Skeleton Dancing. 

Apple Bobbing. 

“Where- where- where do we start?” Y/n asked in shock. 

“Boo!” 

The pair jumped, “Arghhh!!!” They screamed before turning to face a short man in a suit with a top hat and cane appeared behind them. 

“Welcome back Doctor!” The man exclaimed, “I hope this is a social visit this time?” The man grinned politely but still look worried. 

“Don’t worry, Frankie. I am here to be sociable and socialise... with... people.” 

Y/n giggled as the Doctor rambled. “We’re on a date.” she explained. 

Frankie’s eyes widened before he bowed before Y/n, “Oh! My!” he glanced between the two and the Doctor smiled while Y/n looked at him a little nervously, “Welcome, madam!” 

“Hello.” She waved politely. 

“I’m so thrilled you chose my planet for such an occasion.” he threw his hands out, “This is Halloweentown! Where everyone’s entitled to at least one good scare and all the sweets you could ask for.” he reached into his pocket and lifted out a large money pouch from his pocket, “Here you are, Doctor.” He threw the pouch at the Time Lord before prancing away again. “Enjoy!” 

Y/n chuckled, “That was weird. You been here before then?” 

“Frankie had a little problem with the pumpkins a little while ago.” 

“Pumpkins?” 

“Long story darling and we have an entire festival to see.” The Doctor threw the pouch in the air and caught it, “So, where to first?” 

- 

Y/n grinned as she munched on her toffee apple, cheering in the stands as they watched the witches broom race. One of the biggest events in Halloweentown. 

Turning to her left she saw that the Doctor wasn’t watching the race. Instead, he had his glasses on and was inspecting his own apple. 

“Oh, Doctor just bite into it.” 

The Doctor sniffed it one more time before he bit into the side of the apple. 

She smiled as she watched his eyes widen in surprise, lifting the stick up to his eyes so he could inspect the apple once more. “Now that is magnificent.” he giggled as he finished his bite and licked the toffee on the outside. 

Y/n giggled as she reached across and took the Doctor’s unoccupied hand in her own, keeping her eyes on the race at all times. She felt his fingers stiffen slightly before they curled around her own and squeezed. 

Neither of them mentioning it as they raised their joint hands to cheer as Bathilda won the race, just as he said she would. 

- 

“Y/n! Look, look, look!” The Doctor giggled as he looked into a large barrel of water. 

Y/n sighed, “What is it, Doctor?” 

He waved his hands towards her, “Quickly!” 

She shook her head and made her way over to where he was standing hunched over the barrel, “What is it?” 

The Doctor grinned and raised his hand to the back of her head and forcefully dunked her head into the barrel. He let go immediately and Y/n gasped as she sprayed water from her face and wiped her eyes. “Doctor! What was that for?!” 

“Oh, that was rubbish!” The Doctor shook his head as he looked into the barrel. 

“You got my fez wet! Wha-” Y/n was so shocked until she looked down into the barrel and saw a load of apples floating on the surface. “Oh.” 

“I really thought the element of surprise would boost your chances.” The Doctor shook his head as if he couldn’t understand why you failed. He leaned down further to inspect the apples. 

Y/n bit her lip, “The element of surprise?” she asked before slapping the fez off his head and pushing the Doctor’s head into the water. 

His hands flailed in the air before he burst back out of the water and turned to her. An apple firmly in his teeth. 

He raised both arms in the air in celebration before pointing to the apple and taking it out of his mouth, “I did it! See, element of surprise. Told you.” He gestured excitedly to the vendor and all the little objects behind him, “Pick your prize, darling.” 

- 

Y/n craned her neck to look over at the Doctor’s pumpkin and chuckled before returning to her own pumpkin, making sure to keep it faced away from the Doctor. 

“What?” he asked self-consciously as he looked at his own design, “What’s wrong with it?” 

Y/n shrugged as if she didn’t know what he was talking about, “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Oh really? Well, we’ll just see what the Tardis has to say about them!” The Doctor huffed before continuing to carve with his tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“You’re on!” 

- 

“Trust me.” 

Y/n stood shaking slightly, “I do trust you. It’s that I don’t trust.” she pointed to the broom that was in between the Doctor’s legs, “What if I fall?” 

The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows, “Now, when have I ever let you fall?” 

She grinned before taking his outstretched hand and sat in front of him on the broom. His arms circled around her protectively, making sure her back was pressed to his front before he whispered in her ear, “Hold on tight.” 

He placed his hands over hers on the stick before making it start to lift of the ground. 

“Oh!” Y/n gasped as the ground vanished from under her feet. 

“It’s alright. I’m right here.” 

Her heart thundered against her chest but she had total faith in the Doctor as he slowly raised them into the air. 

When he didn’t hear anything for a minute he frowned, “Have you got your eyes closed?!” he whisper-yelled at her. 

“...No...” 

She felt his chest move as he chuckled at her back, “Open your eyes, darling.” 

Y/n unclenched her eyes and blinked to try and adjust. 

She’s so glad that she did. 

The moon was high in the sky, a yellow moon that was carved like a jack-o-lantern. She could see a cemetery in the distance, each grave lit up by candles and lanterns. Looking straight down she saw the market, she saw every stall, every being there who was enjoying the festivities. Her eyes followed the path they came down, seeing the dark shape of the Tardis and two lit lanterns outside, right where they left them. 

“Doctor...” 

“Told you so.” 

She could see the smirk on his face without even having to turn around. 

His grip never faulted from her hands as he slowly made the broom move forward, “Ready?” 

With a new found courage she nodded. 

He kissed her cheek and held her close, “Geronimo!” 

[neonovember]

Bruised Knuckles

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

9K words

a/n: this one is a really long chapter, I went a little overboard, maybe this makes up for my procrastination

The whizz of a snowball blurs crystal white from the corner of your eye as your feet crunch across the gravelled road, the breeze of melting ice from the summer heat just misses you, and for a second you think- he's going to hit you for real

You can hear the barrelling of shoes behind you, and you know he’s advancing. He makes it really obvious when he tries to send an outstretched hand towards you, attempting to trip you, you laugh maniacally as you slip past wavering fingers.

“You gotta be a lot faster than that Rogers!” You howl it into the wind as it takes it, and the grunts of running are heard behind you as you slip through the alleyway into the trail that leads to the pine forest on the edge of town.

“C'mon, that’s not fair!” Steve shouts after you, turning your head you catch his staggering frame, hands pressed into his knees as he bends over, huffing and puffing as if the world didn’t have enough air to fill his lungs.

“Hey, you’re the one with the so-called impeccable aim” You tease

You slow down your pace as you feel the wind ruffle your hair, it’s summertime and you drink in the syrupy goodness that comes with evenings in daylight. The broad pine trees tower over the both of you, leaves and sprinkles of birch fall from the tops and settle around you as you lean against a tree. You would never get used to this, the earthy smell of some thousand-year-old monuments, the laughter of Steve’s voice. Never.

“God, I wish I could just stay here forever”, You whisper to him, eyes glossing over the clearing you both arrived at, an ingrained letter of your initials in one of the trees to the left, a fire pit surrounded by rocks, now ashes and dirt.

“We could, you know we can” Steve’s voice comes back, between awkward breaths of lung-filled air.

“Yes we could, we could, but then we’d just be like our parents, stuck in a town that’s stuck in the past. God, I know my father would never forgive me if I ended up like him” You say solemnly, kicking a stone at the base of your aged converse.

“Come with me,” Steves says suddenly, and you look up to see his staggering form leaning across a tree. His breathing seems to be back to normal, as he walks towards you. Suddenly though, it's your heart that has begun to thump loudly behind your ribs.

“Huh? What- What do you mean?” You ask bringing up a hand to wipe the perspiration settling uncomfortably on your forehead.

“Let’s go, me and you, right now. Let's leave this town and everything in it for good. Your mom, my father, fuck, everyone” Steve urges, his hands wavering around his words, he's never been afraid to look you in the eye, but now his focus is anywhere but you. God, he couldn't do this without you, he needed you, and now he was praying to the heavens you needed him just as bad.

“I-“ You begin to form your reply, before forcing Steve's chin to face you, he had grown a whole foot taller over the winter and it was awkward to reach up at him at such a low angle.

“Look at me Stevie” You plead, and all it takes is the sound of your calling for him to do anything you ask him to. 

Steve’s cerulean blues watch you closely, the burning feeling of anxiety and trepidation spilling into his stomach as waits on your every word.

You begin mouthing words, your eyes shining with an expression his only since one before, but he isn't able to understand. Like his dove into the deep end, your words are muffled and unintelligible, you look at him then, confusion lacing your features. You look at him like he’s turned into an alien, and he can't fucking hear you goddamnit. You mouth those same words, yet they don't reach Steve, hitting the surface, unable to penetrate and find him.

The edges of his vision begin to burn a dirty orange, and the pine trees surrounding the both of you begin to melt. The bright orange storm of a wildfire burns behind you, lighting up your features like a beacon. Steve begins to scream, he tries to scream, he fails to scream, he reaches for you, shaking as he nudges your shoulder to look behind. The confusion on your face increases as your eyebrows furrow and a shivering fear wraps itself around Steve's spine, as the fire edges closer and closer.

You're not listening, acting as if nothing has happened as the heat drips down Steve’s back, a feeling of grief washes over Steve as he realises your going to die out here, in the town you hate, you're going to be buried 6 feet into the dark dirt of this place for eternity. 

And for the first time, Steve panics. He can't speak, he can't move,  he can't save you. He's a little boy again, hanging onto the last bar of the monkey bars as you cheer him on from below. But no matter how far he stretched out his hand he can't reach it, he can't reach you. And those same hot tears spill down his face, dripping down his neck, dirty and humiliating and fucking weak. The flickering tongues of the wild forest fire wraps itself around the pine trees, and before Steve can reach for you, before Steve can even scream, you're engulfed by the formidable inferno, and like a flame to a photograph, you’re gone.

Just like that.

-- -

Steve wakes with a shivering sweat, his internal furnace staining the sheets as the glistening perspiration slides down his back uncomfortably.

The sun is just peeking through the fluttering linen curtains, and Steve reaches around to place the fallen alarm clock back onto the side table. It seems it was knocked during his slumber, his slumber. You had begun to seep into his mind until you began to stain even his subconscious, confronting him with past memories that seemed like mirages all these years later.

There were ginormous, those pine trees that towered over the edge of town, he remembers how they seemed like giants compared to his sullen form. In a sense, Steve admired them, they were resilient, to man-made destruction, against the forces of nature, they stood still and remained unchanged, he doesn't doubt they would be the same even now when the both of you had changed so much. He doesn't doubt those engraved initials would still feel the same against his thumb, even if Steve felt something akin to betrayal when you had scraped both your initials into one of the birch trunks.

Those pine tree roots that sprung beneath the surface that travelled for miles, seemed to interlink the both of you, wrapping themselves around you until you both would be forever joined, somehow, even thousands of miles away. Steve would never escape their grasp, he could never escape you, no matter how hard he tried he was nothing against the monumental giants of nature. 

A burn of nostalgia and regret begins to unfurl in Steve's stomach as he begins to piece back the fractured parts of the dream that had slowly begun to slip between his fingers. He's reaching desperately, hopelessly, reaching for them, grabbing at scraps of years where he wasn't always so mad, so exhausted, so indifferent.

It had been years since his mind had reopened the memories from his childhood, and it is with caution, those times were locked in a chained drawing cabinet, filed impeccably and thrown into the Mariana trench and left to rot. There wasn't time, and money to waste on nostalgia, not in the life Steve had chosen for himself, not after those same hands reaching for that chest were blooded and raw with sin. No, no, those memories were long tainted, there was no point in digging up old graves.

The bleeding red digits indicate it's far too early in the morning, and therefore just the right time to get up, for Steve Rogers, at least. The crumbled and sweaty sheets are left haphazardly on the bed for the in-house maid to clean, and Steve wastes no time jumping into a cold shower to wash off the uncomfortable reality of his past.

The activities from last night still seeped into his blond locs, across his chest, and between his fingers, and Steve grumbles as he recalls the waste of space and energy that informant had been. Steve turns the water a scalding hot and the nostalgia, memory and fevered dream of you is washed down the drain along with the dirty red specks of blood and dust that were still stuck to the edges of his skin.

He just needed to talk to you today, and use this poorly organised meeting to clear his head. If he set boundaries, if he set an endgame then it would be easier to de-attach himself from the grasp of contingencies. Steve wouldn’t make you a liability, he couldn’t, he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did.

The clank of Steve’s cuff links roll across the chestnut drawer and they remind him of the years with his father. The red and white pills rolling across the rotting wooden floors of the home you wouldn’t call home. His snake eyes and silvery skin seemed to pale and scale each day that passed. Steve shakes his head, muttering as he clicks them into his cuffs. As far as he knew, his father was as good as dead. To him at least.

His fingers grasp the keys to his car, they jingle in his broad palm and he pockets them swiftly, the ring of his cell phone resounds through the quiet room and Steve reaches for it quickly. A call this early in the morning meant one thing and one thing only, what had occurred in the night was not yet finished, seeping into the safety of the morning light.

Steve nods along to the gruff voice sounding from the receiver, a hand coming to push back his fallen locks, leaving the room Steve enters the Manor's kitchen space.

Bucky is perched on one of the silver stools, sipping on a glass filled with what seemed to be orange juice, but with closer inspection was clear to be all parts liquor with a splash of the citric acid. God, alcohol this early in the morning? Steve ought to get Bucky a therapist.

Bucky senses Steve's presence before he even steps into the room, eyes trained on his figure practically hugging the cell phone perched between his ear and shoulder. A puzzled expression fills Bucky’s face as if to say ‘What are they saying?’ And Steve waves him off as he takes the steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on the ceramic countertop.

The kitchen is soundless this early in the morning safe for Steve's peaceful sips and Bucky’s fervent gulps, and a few minutes pass before Steve ends the call abruptly, a grim expression overtaking his features.

Bucky stands at attention, his eyebrows raising as he awaits steves explanation for such an early call.

“Got some trouble from the east end, some low-level goons messing with some of our men. One of the guys wants to meet up to talk ownership over the east side docks.” Steve replies, throwing the cell phone onto the granite counter, it clatters and bounces for a second before it settles in the corner.

“Isn’t that owned by, ya know, our runaway girl's husband?” Bucky replies, pushing against the counter to get up and walk towards Steve.

Steve nods, hands bent across his chest as he leans against the counter.

“That’s what’s confusing, Micheal, you know the guy? Short stoic and always a little on edge? He’s saying that Matthews is willing to talk about some sort of alignment. Make that area some fort of peacekeeping, owned by the both of us” Steve replies.

“It’s not bad, both of our men up there would mean the problem of those pocket-picking gangs would be solved, less of a strain on us” Bucky nods along, before adding

“But, Micheal, he’s-, he isn’t really known for being the most reliable ya know? Gets you caught up in the details, blows them out of proportion and leaves too many loose ends” Bucky reasons, his body now across from Steve.

“It makes sense though, those rising groups haven't just incapacitated our operations, Matthews is suffering from their outstanding resilience to incapacitate them. But you’re right, Micheal can’t be completely trusted, that’s why I need to talk to some contacts and see what’s been seeping into conversations underground. Either way, I need to check on our men up there, see if everything alright” Steve sighs, mind reeling over the impending tasks on his mind, but most importantly you.

“You were meant to see her this morning, right” Bucky smirks as if reading Steve's mind from across him.

“Told her we’d iron some things out in the morning, promised to pick her up. This thing I’ve done, I don't want it to be for nothing Bucky, and I don’t want to go back on my word” Steve says solely, checking his phone for the 3rd time for your call.

“I need you and Sam to fill in for me,” Steve begins

Bucky nods before whipping his head to face Steve’s

“Sam? Why does he have to come, I'm perfectly capable of talking to her by myself” Bucky grumbles, and just like clockwork, Sam comes strolling in, his shirt rolled up to his forearms as he dusts off the specks of blood littering his chest.

Bucky looks towards the man in disgust, eyes rolling at the displays of violence clearly sprayed across his body. 

“Really? Do you have to walk around the house looking like you've just come from massacring a family of 5?” Bucky groans, going to plunk his glass into the sink.

“Who’s to say I didn’t” Sam replies, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he bumps into Bucky, pushing him to the side with his hip as he washes off the grime covering his fingers.

“Let's face it Bucky, you’re a bit…intimidating.” Steve trails off, amusement on his face as he watches Sam groan at the discovery of a stain ruining his dress shirt.

Bucky swirls his body to face Steve’s, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Inti-intimidating? There’s a man in this room with blood-stained cuffs, and I’m the one who’s intimidating?” Bucky sputters

Steve shrugs his shoulders, a whisper of a smile etching itself on his face.

“You just have this lone wolf thing about you, it scares people off” Steve murmurs thoughtfully as if he’s been analysing Bucky’s palatability before.

“C'mon, she was practically telling me to piss off the last time I talked to her, she out of all people can handle a Barnes”. Bucky replies, an annoyed expression on his face.

Steve bristles at Bucky’s comment, for some reason, a fuelled hatred fills his chest at the mention of you having to ‘handle’ anything.

“She’s already agreed, there’s no need to intimate date her further, besides,  from what I’ve heard it seems she’s the one intimating you both” Steve lets out a comical laugh, swiping his phone from the counter and shoving it into his suit pants.

“Guess it’s a road trip?” Sam replies, before dodging an incoming plate thrown at him from the hands of Bucky.

“I swear to god…” Bucky replies gruffly, shouldering in his suit jacket before pushing past a snickering Sam

“Hey-“ Steve calls, his voice a little lower than moments before. Bucky’s stiff back turns slowly at the sound of Steve’s suddenly baritone voice that bounces through the swallowing hallways.

“Don’t scare her, try and be- just don’t show her your daggers or pull some stupid shit, I mean it. She’s different, I mean she was practically inducted into this life but she was always kept hidden, ya know? Never knew how deep it got” Steve says, the icy expression that morphs his features into the dark formidable creature he turns the air around them a frosty cold.

Both Sam and Bucky nod, they understood a command when they were told one, and this one seemed as if Steve’s entire being was hanging onto it.

— -

It's well into the morning light when you finally rise from your slumber, the beating heat slipping through the cracks of your blinds. A sense of anxiety rushes through you as you realise you’re late to work, clamouring out of bed and ending up on the floor.

However the sound of the neighbour kids bustling footsteps through the apartment complex eases your worries, it’s Sunday. Your well-earned, and only, day off.

You lay there, on the dusty carpet of your bedroom floor, and drink in the bliss of a day without a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed. Your legs ached from the turbulent labour you’d that had been forced on you daily for a job you knew didn’t pay for the work it took. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, you'd only just ends up in a spiral of depression and regret you don't know you could pull yourself from. What you did need was coffee, you think you might collapse back onto the floor if you don't get that liquid gold in your body.

What can you say? Old habits die hard, for you, it was caffeine and for your husband it was knuckles on skin.

-- -

Your shower lasts less than the amount of time you have warm water, which is about 15 minutes. Not nearly enough to wash the grime and dirt that was always stuck to the back of your ears or other inconspicuous cracks you’d only find after the water had drained out.

It’s when you're pouring yourself a steaming brew into your favourite mug when you get the text. Your phone lights up, illuminating the small kitchen darkened by the black-out curtains you’d bought to keep the sun out. You can't help but grow audibly as you fear that your one day off would be interrupted by your boss’s demand for you to come in. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought you lived breathed and slipped on her every beck and call.

Flipping to the screen side up, your heart hammers loudly against your rips when you are confronted by an unknown number outlined in dark text

Something came up, Sam and Bucky are gonna come pick you up?

Steve.

You should be thinking about how he had found your number, or who this Sam is, but all your mind reels at is his apparent absence. Hell, you don’t know why but your heart sinks at that. You had thought that maybe, stupidly, you'd find out why he truly wanted to help you, use this meet-up to determine what his endgame was, and quell the what-ifs and questions that had been swirling around your skull since yesterday.

It was foolish really, to think that he would just open himself to you, that he wouldn't don the same mask he wore when he was ripping off drug lords and executing their men. You were simply another source of information to him, nothing more, nothing less. At least this way you knew where you stood.

Your phone begins to light up as the bubbles of an incoming text display on the grey chat. 

That alright?

He's asking for your permission? You can’t help but laugh, it erupts from the depths of your stomach and escapes through your mouth. And without even a blink of a second, you bent over, loud laughs leaving your mouth uncontrollably as hiccuped tears run down your cheek. The man who had no less than shown up at your workplace followed you home, and send his men after you were asking for your permission. You knew it meant nothing, you knew he would still send them anyway, he just wanted to make sure you did too.

You snatch your phone from the laminate counter, scoffing as you type out a reply,

Perfectly fine.

It was NOT perfectly fine, but you’re too tired at this point to argue, a little talk wouldn't ruin your day, and most importantly he wouldn't ruin your day.

Plopping yourself on your velvet couch you wipe the fallen tears stricken on your cheeks, you still had your coffee. Maybe you could throw that at him, he may be a formidable monster that dominated the criminal scenes of New York, but he was still human, and coffee was still fucking hot.

-- -

You watch Bucky and Sam pull into your apartment before they do, it wasn’t hard, a car like that in a place like this stood out like a sore thumb, you wouldn't doubt by the time they'd dragged you out of your home that they’d find their tires missing.

A smile lights your face at the thought, now that would be funny.

They exit with the car still running, donning tailored suits that clung to every dip and stretch of their body. You don't wait for them to knock when you catch their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete balcony, maybe if they thought you weren't home they would just leave you alone.

You remain huddled into your coach,  watching their tall shadows move about the front of your apartment. They wouldn't try and break in right..?

There is a hurried knock that causes you to jump involuntarily, and it is soon followed by a bellowing baritone voice that seeps into the cracks of your plaster walls.

“Doll, we ain't got all day, and I know you’re in there so why don't you be a pretty peach and open the door?” Bucky’s voice causes you to bristle, and your teeth press into your bottom lip nervously. There is a sliver of dominance in his voice that doesn't quite reach the surface. Enough years and you learn when someone is trying to hold back. 

There is a rummaging of clothes before Bucky begins to speak again,

“This look like some reinforced steel Sam?, How about tripe pane glass?”

A man's voice soon follows, replying with a chuckled no.

“You hear that doll? Your door isn't some reinforcement against us, it won't protect you, I figure I could bust it down with the tip of my foot. Now I don’t think your neighbours would quite like that disturbance this early in the morning hm?” Bucky’s voice is muffled by your door, but you can tell he's stepped closer, his lips pressed into the crack between the door and your hallway wall.

“Am I right doll?” Bucky reiterates, his voice deepening a dangerous octave, the kind that probably gets him what he wants, no questions asked.

Your eyes travel to your apartment door, the paint chipping off the sides of the wooden frame, dust falls to the bottom as Bucky taps his foot against it, chuckling at the pitiful sound it makes in return.

Yeah, your door is practically a pillow against them.

You cough loudly as you attempt to form a reply, the words getting caught up in your throat

“Yes, I'm coming, just, just don’t break down my door please” You finally let out, you hope to god you sounded the least bit content, but as you fumble with the door handle you know there remains a tremor in your voice.

One last swift turn does it, and you open your door swiftly.

They is a short moment that passes, where they both seize you up again as if you'd changed from those days before. Bucky eyes wander behind your shoulder, practically scrutinising the contents of your home.

“For your information, this door has withstood a grade A snow storm,” You say, your hand resting on the corner of your door,

Bucky flashes you a sickening grin, his canines shining against the morning light. The man beside him is just as tall, only a mere few centimetres below Bucky, his suit stretches against the expansive muscle of his chest and shoulder, and with the veins running up his arm you don't doubt that he could quite literally crash you with his bare hands.

His stance is domineering, and his short black hair makes him look infinitely more lethal. He looks the picture of the men who work for your husband, and occupy the hallways of your home at all times, however, there is one defining difference. His eyes. Even whilst they are a deep earthy brown the kind shadowed by trees and left in the darkness of the underground, they are soulful.

They carry a hidden kindness, even if they may be muddled by violence and bloodshed, it is still there. The sliver of humanity that separates Sam from the thousands of men you've encountered, those men of your husbands whose fox eyes watched your every move, surveying you, scrutinising you as if to find a reason to hunt you down. 

You never found peace in that home, for your every move was watched by cameras and hundreds of pairs of scrutinising eyes that were bought with money that was caked in blood.

‘Do you want another minute to judge my apartment or can you shove me into the boot of your Mercedes already” You sigh, grabbing your bag, and throwing in your phone and a jacket.

“Your lead, and for your information, it's a Maserati” Sam chuckles edging closer so he whispers it into your ear. A shiver runs down your back and you fix your shoulder, locking the door behind you as you walk down the concrete steps that crumble beneath your feet.

Sliding into the backseat, you don't notice the way their eyes linger on you, watching you from the review mirror as your gaze travels across your apartment and neighbourhood, the kids are still playing some game of ball, the basketball aged and torn apart from its frequent use, the old man at the bottom of the stairs is resting on an armchair, smoking a cigarette you've told him countless times will contribute to his death.

You bid them farewell, as Bucky turns out of the parking lot, the pine trees towering at the edge of the road blur a green and brown as you let the scenery around you consume you. This side of the city can be beautiful when it wants to be, when the morning dew hasn't yet fully melted, and the blanket of security covers you just for that moment.

You don't like to, but it reminds you of your childhood strangely, the trees and the way the sunlight shines through the branches. You don’t quite know why, it presses into the edges of your mind, like half-memories, like a big chunk of your mind has been cut open and taken out. There's a searing pain whenever your mind travels to those years before, a white-hot burn whenever you think too hard about it. So you don't. You close your eyes and rest your head against the leather seat, with two pairs of eyes watching you the whole ride.

-- -

Your body moves along with the twists and turns of the route Bucky follows almost mechanically, Sam had gone into a rather long phone call, the cell phone perched between his head and shoulder.

The terrain has changed from the concrete skyscrapers of Brooklyn, venturing into the natural scenic roads separating the buzz and hum of the city that was always alive. You hadn't travelled or even explored much since your settlement in Brooklyn, so much of where Bucky was taking you was unknown to you, you would’ve liked it, you think. If you weren't on the run and had notches of your past scorched into your back. Maybe in another life, you would've spent your twenties backpacking across the states, an ocean blue van that would be your home.

Now though, it takes everything to push the rising anxiety back down into your chest and not have a meltdown in the back of Bucky’s car.

As the smooth city roads turn into fragmented gravel paths you shift in your seat, edging closer to the window, your eyes watch the world around you evolving into the nature that once replaced New York, Bucky almost senses your wonderment, and quietly pulls the window down an inch or two. The scent of sea foam and wet dirt waft through your hair as you breathe it in, you reach out with a hand, letting the soft wind from Bucky’s press of the accelerate twirl and glide between your fingers.

You catch a pair of eyes watching you closely, but before you can look up they’re looking away, back to doing what they once were before.

The speed of the car begins to slow down, and Bucky turns into a dirt road surrounded by forest trees. A sense of unease fills you before Bucky drives up to a clearance, the shrubbery and foliage clear up to some sort of national park.  A long lake snakes around the rocky mountains, hidden behind the same deep brown trees towering over the sides of the road.

There is a car park towards the front, in which Bucky pulls into and parks swiftly, your gaze travels across the park, a wooden sign at the front is carved with the name of the clearing, some founder or explorer you had probably learned in 8th grade but is forgotten at the back of your mind. A map is attached below, along with the phone number of the park ranger closest. Triangle-shaped yellow signs warn hikers of the habitual animals that roam the parkland, and you smile as a figure of walking ducklings urge drivers to be wary.

There are a few cars parked around Bucky’s; a large red minivan with aged and peeling bumper stickers attached to the back, a dark black jeep, and a small sedan with one of those stick figure family stickers at the back.

You don't wait for Bucky or Sam before opening the door, the crunch of your sneakers against the gravel path.

“Wait a sec” Calls Bucky, you look behind your shoulder to find him rummaging in the backseat of the car, before shutting it and jogging up to you.

“Sam’s gotta finish up with something” Bucky explains as you catch Sam half smile as he continues with the phone call. You and Bucky must seem out of place, him with his perfectly tailored suit and you with your lazy Sunday outfit you pulled from your laundry.

Bucky leads you both to a park bench, and as you being to settle down Sam pops up, sitting across and joining Bucky, shooting you a quick apology.

“So, since you've agreed with this... arrangement, we've got to set out some ground rules and finalise a few things” Bucky begins, taking out a few papers with typed-out paragraphs of jargon you probably wouldn't understand.

“Do I need a lawyer..?” You ask as you eye the printed documents sitting across from you.

“It's all a formality, Steve.. he uh, he likes to be professional with his dealings is what I can say” Sam chuckles, crossing his head

“In exchange for your voluntary participation and the provision of sensitive and confidential information, Steve will provide you with fully serviced protection and surveillance of oneself and accommodation. Basically, me and Buck will come around each day to check everything is in order, and one of our men with be stationed at your apartment” Sam continues, nodding towards the documents before you.

“So ill be followed everywhere,” You reply, you had just escaped a life of constant surveillance and control, and right now it just felt like you were taking two steps back.

“I know what it sounds like, but most of our men are more friendly and less..well, automatic and mechanical. Steve only really trusts us, so you'll be seeing us more often than some random guy with a gun” Bucky says, smoothing down his suit pants.

Steve only really trusts us

You don't know why but your heart fumbles at Bucky's inclination that Steve cared about who was around you, your comfortableness, your satisfaction. It seemed so wrong after years of negligence to truly be cared after.

The loud sound of a dog barking causes you to tense just a fraction, your eyes flinch and you shift nervously in your seat. Get your shit together dammit, it was just a husky running beside its owner, the park never said it was free of dogs, but you can't help but stare at its blubbery open mouth, spit hanging from its sharpened teeth and a look of pure animalistic instinct in its eyes.

Stop, this isn't like the ones he keeps. Stop. overreacting.

It seems as if the dog sparked some sort of realisation that you were not in the safety of your apartment or in your workplace diner, that you were in a space occupied by the public in which anyone, even your husband could enter.

The more they talk, the more you itch with the anxiety bubbling in your chest, the bench under you is hard and itchy, you don't like it, and the sun has risen high into the sky, beating down on you. You try to keep up with them, head fuzzy as you nod after their every word, they glance at each other after a while of your scattering mind.

Both Sam and Bucky notice your uneasiness and the way your eyes dart around the nature park. Years in this life taught them how to read someone easily, and right now, you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You just, weren't used to being so out in the open, you feared you were running out with a printed target on your back saying “Shoot Me”. In the darkness of your apartment at least you felt somewhat safe, here, where you didn't know where you could hide, or if there even was somewhere to hide, the expanse of shrubbery and forest trees looked domineering, like they tower over you and swallow you whole, you didn't feel safe. In fact, you felt like it was open fucking season.

They'd picked an open space out in public, so you dint feel boxed in or isolated, a chance to feel a sense of normalcy whilst discussing deals with the mafia, huh, what a fucking joke. You keep readjusting your necklace, and they keep looking at you with that unreadable expression on their faces.

“You alright doll?” Sam replies, you can’t focus on him, the lines of his features blurring a little from the pounding headache that has begun to radiate from your temple

You nod and try focusing on the soft sounds of the nature park, the calls and whistles of native birds and the currying sounds of animals burrowing in their habitats. You know it does nothing, but you try and sink yourself into the false security of it.

Sam nods awkwardly back, he glances at Bucky and an unreadable conversation passes between them before Sam collects the papers you don’t remember signing.

“I think that’s enough business talk for a bit” Sam glances at his watch, muttering an obscenity under his breath.

“How about we drive you back home so can spend the rest of your day without having to deal with us, huh?” Sam replies trying to lighten the mood that has gone still with your curt answers.

You nod, itching to get home and under the covers, or under the heat of your shower to wash off the sludge of unease and anxiety coating your skin.

Bucky quietly watches you, and you throw him an always smile as you get up from the bench, tugging your sleeve down.

A moment passes with Bucky watching you closely before he smiles in return, but it’s one that mirrors yours, insincere and masking true emotions.

This time Sam opens the front passenger door for you, and you slide in quickly, shoving your bag at your feet and clicking the seat belt on. Bucky leaves the window down for you and you shut your eyes and let the warm wind settle the nerves that seemed to remain in your stomach.

— -

Bucky pulls out of your apartment complex, despite almost hitting a young boy running after a beat-up soccer ball.

He hadn’t pulled out until he had been sure you were safe and secured in your apartment, walking in and checking the place for any intruders despite your objections.

God, he never understood it, why you hated the idea of anyone helping you. Most women in this life demanded constant and immediate attention, hell he’d seen his own mother not lift a finger his entire life, raised by the many nannies and maids that had been employed at his family’s estate.

You though, helping you was like pulling teeth. It added to the hundreds of other questions Bucky had about you that Steve refused to answer, like why you had run away from a life he thought was full of luxury and opulence, or why Steve was so adamant in him and Sam to watch over you. 

Steve had never really involved himself in these types of business arrangements, but this one, it seemed as if Steve would commit murder if he found out you were left alone with one of his dispensable.

Bucky reaches for his phone left in the car’s compartment, fingers dailing Steve's phone as his other hand rests on the steering wheel. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Yeah?” Steve's gruff voice resounds against the echo of the basement he’s in, and Bucky has already gathered that he is deep within the monster that consumes him and enables him to rest on the throne of New York.

Bucky coughs a reply

“Hey, uh, we just finished up with her-”

“What’s the problem, something happen?” Steve’s voice replies in urgency, a sliver of concern in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed by them both.

“No, nothings wrong, we just-, well she-, Steve, I think you outta talk to her again, she's agreed and everything but she is, she’s on edge. I have a feeling she doesn't think you can protect her” Bucky finally lets out, the expansive nightlife of New York flashes past against the tinted windows of the car as Bucky follows the twists and turns to home.

“I mean she was practically clawing out of her body being in a goddamn park, Steve. A park. I figured she needs you to talk to her a little, and reassure her because, without her confidence in whatever this is, it all goes to shit. It’ll all fall down” Bucky says.

There is a beat of silence before Steve replies.

“Okay. I'll take the night off, tell everyone I'm off fucking.. somewhere. Back at the club.

“Alright,” Bucky replies before Steve ends the call abruptly. Sam glances at Bucky, sighing out loudly in the car before sinking into the leather seat.

“I have a feeling this will be the beginning of something that will be the end of us” Mutters Sam, but Bucky hears it all the same. And he can’t help it, but it all rings true. You will be the death of him.

The clench of Steve's jaw tightens as he slides his phone into his back pocket, rolling up his sleeves, Steve waste no time before striking the man bound to the chair across the face. Stringing blood and pieces of bone are scattered across the dingy basement floor, the burning lightbulb above them is the only thing that gives the light in the damp room, and it only adds to the sinister maliciousness that radiates from Steve.

He’s already dealing with an uncooperative subject, and the unexpected call from Bucky didn't quite ease the tension beginning to appear on his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Steve says, both his hands resting on either side of the armchair the man, a look of boredom crowds Steve’s face, his features unreadable as always as he stares down the snitch

“No” The spits it out along with flecks of blooded spit, and Steve chuckles, wiping away the blood splattered on his cheek before calmly replying

“You are nothing, your loyalty is that of a drop in the ocean, you don't think they won't cut your tongue and throw you in the Hudson with concrete feet for even getting caught by my men? Face it, you're a snitch, a rat- Steve pauses to spit to the ground- “and you and I both know the destiny a man like that has. Now do yourself a favour of a quick death and answer me, why is Matthews trying to free up the eastern docs?”

“Maybe he’s gathered a change of heart, it is the season to be generous no?” Chuckles the man, he smiles with his teeth covered in. blood, and Steve's grip presses into the armchair.

“You think this is a fucking joke? When has Matthews ever been generous, there has always been an endgame to every single move he does, what's the endgame to a fucking peace keep? Huh?”

“Look, I told you what I know, Matthews is trying to look as stable as possible, especially since he's begun to slip through the cracks, you know what they say right? That his little wife has gone running away? That sweet thing managed to slip past the biggest army in Northern America” The man replies, laughing manically.

Steve grunts at the mention of your name that passes through this animal’s mouth, how fucking dare he. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he needs to reign it in but all he hears is your name muttered from chipped golden teeth and he swings.

The savagery in the way Steve beats the man does not go unnoticed by the men around him, they watch on, as the crunch of bone and flesh fill the quiet basement, and the groaned pleas of the man are muffled by Steve's iron fists, his jaw collapsing in on itself as Steve throws his body to the ground with an obscene shout.

Steve had sometimes forgotten, how he has that formidable creature within him clawing its way out each time he steps out his front door, how he lets it consume him whenever he thinks of Matthews, and in a way; you.

“Clean this shit up, I don't ever want to see this fucking rat in New York ever again”. Steve growls towards the man around him, reaching for his keys and swiftly exciting from the cryptic warehouse on the edge of New York’s industrial area.

-- -

He doesn't quite know how he found himself outside your apartment, nor how fast he got there, but the thought is pushed to the side when you open your door suddenly. Wear eyes watching his staggering frame against your door frame, and all you have to do is nod before he’s entering your home.

“I thought Sam this morning would be the last I’d see of your men” You reply as you reach for two beers stacked away in your fridge. You weren't really a drinker, and you don't doubt they were stale.

“I said my men, I never said me” Steve chuckles, accepting the cold beverage you hand him appreciatively as he eases himself onto your small dining table in the corner of your room.

He practically swallows the entire place, his knees bubbing against the table as he awkwardly arranges himself on the too-small chair beside you. You hide your chuckle behind the neck of your beer bottle that you knock back down your throat.

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls over the both of you as you silently sip your beer bottles, and you find yourself reaching for another before ungracefully slumping your tired body into your wooden dining chair.

Steve catches the deep set bags under your eyes and the way your back practically hunched over as you rub a hand across your face

“Can’t sleep?” Steve murmurs, you look up as you catch his gaze which softens momentarily. Shaking your head you chuckle pitifully.

“That would be an understatement, more like can’t even shut my eyes” You scoff, before knocking back another sip of your beer.

“With this thing, we've arranged, hopefully, you’ll be able to” Steve replies, shifting in his seat as he looks towards you.

“If only it was that easy. Unless someone can enter into my brain and shut it off for a full 8 hours, I won't be getting any shut-eye” You smile wrily, before running a hand down your face, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it's alright, ill- ill figure something out. It isn't like I haven't dealt with a few nights without sleep ya know? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, you probably could care less” You reply with a finality that has Steve looking at you with that same strange expression you can't decipher.

Just as he begins to say something, Steve thinks better of it, simply shaking his head

“It’s alright, you're talking to an insomniac veteran over here, god knows I've burnt some eye-sized holes in my ceiling”

You can't help but let out a laugh, a real one, and the sound of it makes Steve’s heart collapse in on itself. Without even a moment  Steve already knows it's his favourite thing in this entire world, he wants to keep it, bottle it and keep it behind the white of his ribs and the coldness of his heart.

“Can I just ask you something?” You say suddenly,

He nods, giving you permission.

“Why do you want to do this? and tell me the real reason, not some false one you’ve made up.

“Honestly?”

It’s your turn to nod now,

“It’s selfish and cruel but I want to finally own something /make something of myself. This may come as a shock to you but I wasn’t always this fierce and formidable” you roll your eyes comically.

“I spent much of my years just wandering aimlessly, working jobs for other people, my loyalty was tied to one person and one person only. Myself.

“Seems like a tough way to live” you reply. You got it, something over came you when you got the keys to your first apartment. The first thing you actually owned since that bicycle you spend afternoons mowing lawns for. Selling lemonade for.

“You know, this deal, this arrangement-everything, means nothing if you can’t put your trust in it,” Steve says, running his hand down the neck of his beer bottle, letting the wet droplets fall down his fingers.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, silently, eyes looking up through the horizon of the beer bottle

“Do you trust me to protect you?” Steve asks again, as he rests his back against the wooden chair, an expectant expression on his face.

Do you? Everything in your mind is screaming at you to say no and run away, to hide back into the dark corner you’ve made a home out of, but as your gaze travels towards Steve, with those golden locs and cerulean blues, your heart murmurs with a familiar longing that you can’t ignore.

“Yea, strangely Steve, I do”. You reply with a look of pure candour on your face.

Your gaze travels to his hand gripping the neck of the brown bottle, and it is only then that you notice the tattered and bleeding skin of his knuckles. Steve catches your concerned gaze, eyebrows furrowing at the bruising beginning to form.

“It's nothing, just a little hands-on approach to a situation” Steve replies, shifting in his seat, but his excuse does nothing to quell the burn in your stomach.

“I know I have a first aid kit somewhere here” You murmur, rummaging through your kitchen cabinets as you peruse the tattered and peeling shelves and drawers.

“It's alright, doll, I'll get it patched up later-” Steve tries to argue, getting up from his seat, but you jolt up suddenly from your crouched position, a faded red first aid kit in your palm.

“Got it” You smile triumphantly, you rest yourself against the kitchen counter across from Steve, and Steve can say nothing as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him to protest against it.

“You’ve got men stationed outside my apartment, fixing up a few bleeding knuckles is the least I can do” You interject, moving towards him.

“Besides, if you're bleeding out on my living room floor, who else will be there to protect this” -you gesture your hands around the apartment- “Sanctuary?” Your question, a small smile softening your features and that's all it takes before Steve is conceating, following your footsteps to the small bathroom.

It's fitted with a peeling sink cabinet, toilet and a ceramic bathtub cramped into the corner, the low yellow light attached to the ceiling gives the room a sickly feel and Steve has to bend down onto the edge of the bathtub so you can reach him.

Pulling his blooded sleeves up, the reality of the damage on his hands can be inspected, the skin around his knuckles has peeled off completely, and splotches of dried and et blood seep from the wound.

As you take his hands into your palm softly, Steve grunts under his breath, not because of the pain radiating from his knuckles but because your fingers are so soft against the rough pads of his fingers.

You whisper an apology he waves off before ripping open an alcohol wipe, pressing it gently against his knuckles, making sure to clean off the grime and dirt stuck between his fingers.

The smell of blood that begins to permeate the air is one that is familiar, years of drunken nights had taught you how to patch up bruised cheeks and split stitches. Nights when your husband was so deep in his hunger for power and greed that he had thought you were here to take his kingdom from right under him. You knew what liquor could do to a man, but your husband to put it lightly, has always been and always will be, a mean drunk.

You feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you look up to catch his intense stare watching over your every move, you have to look away after a moment, focus on the tap tap tap of the loose bathroom sink.

You take the small bandaged adhesives, and place them over his bruising knuckles, before covering them with bandaging cloth. You follow the same motions you had been forced to learn over the years to his other fist, feathering the cloth in and out between his fingers.

“How do you know how to do this?” Steve murmurs under his breath, his intense blues boring into your soul, as you look up from his bandaged knuckles.

“I was quite an adventurous kid, spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad kneeling over me, patching up cuts and bruises” It is almost automatic, the way the well-practised lie slips from your lips, it leaves your mouth without a second thought.

Steve blinks at your reply, the blank expression covering his features is now taken over by his darkened eyes, his jaw tenses against his teeth and from the way his shoulders raise, you know there are a hundred things running through his mind. His fingers flex painfully in your grip, wrist rolled into a tight fist.

“Hey! Don’t go ruining my handiwork” You chastise him, flexing out his finger so they lay flat against your palm.

“We’ve all got history..right?” You smile, before his gaze travels across your features, nodding in a grimace.

“Some more than others” Steve replies, his left eye flinching as he catches the fading bruises peeking through your sleeves.

“Thank you,” Steve says, motioning to your fingers gripping his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s the least I could do I mean-” You begin before Steve cuts you off momentarily

“Hey, no, thank you really, you didn't have to, but you did” Steve's domineering voice crowds the small bathroom and you have to look down at your laced hands to let them out of your grip.

“I’ll leave you alone now, and I mean it this time,” Steve says, following you out of the bathroom.

“So I shouldn't be expecting any more nightly visits from men with guns at my door?” You question with a smile, as Steve shoulders his suit jacket on carefully, so as to not ruin your bandages.

“No, not tonight, if you see or hear anything or anyone, call me,” Steve replies, his voice deepening into a level of seriousness that gives you no choice but to listen.

“I mean it, you've got my cell, as well as Sam and Bucky’s, and I am an insomniac, so don’t have me second guessing alright?” Steve's baritone voice takes up the entire room, and all you can do is nod fervently.

You follow the loud footsteps of Steve's dress shoes down the short narrow hallway that leads to the front door, opening with one swift turn, Steve turns back to you swiftly.

“Don’t let mind cave in on itself, burying yourself in your thoughts only leaves you with a fatigue that doesn’t wear off and a bed that runs cold” Steve murmurs, a look casts a shadow over his eyes as his gaze trails over your tired features. But it leaves as soon as it comes and you find yourself still staring at that same spot on the carpet after he’s shut the door and left.

Taglist 🏷

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@stupendouslovegardener @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3  @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta​ @@wolfieeebbbyyy​ @namelesssav  @nessie2183

[bexorok]

Poorly written Sonic Movie 3 pitch/outline pt. 4

Amy meets the crew! Yay!

Cut to a ring opening up somewhere in the city. Amy Rose steps out.

Amy: Alright, this planet is way bigger than I thought it would be. I was hoping I would find some sort of clue about the emeralds by now, but no matter where I go or who I ask, people give me weird looks. These guys have no idea what the emeralds even are.

She steps into an alleyway to avoid being seen by a couple turning the corner.

Amy: (sighing) How can I find someone connected to the emeralds when no one on this planet knows about them?

She turns her head to the other side of the ally, where a cafe can be seen on a street corner. Through the window is a television tuned into the national news channel. A crowd is gathered around to watch the story that's being covered. Curious, Amy walks into the cafe to get a glance at what has everyone’s interest.

Scarlet: This is Scarlet Garcia with an update on the events unfolding today. After further investigation, Police have released footage of what appears to be “a humanoid hedgehog” fleeing from military pursuit.

The video cuts to security footage of shadow inside the government building, followed by him standing on top of the building. In his hands is what looks like a green chaos emerald. Amy’s gasp is drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

Scarlet: Shortly after losing sight of this figure, GUN agents found and arrested Sonic the Hedgehog, who was found near the scene.

Muffles of outrage can be heard from the surrounding people.

Scarlet: This comes as a complete shock to everyone, as Sonic and his friends, Tails and Knuckles, have been hailed as heroes after stopping the efforts of Doctor Robotnik and saving the small town of Green Hills. Not only that, but many are pointing out that the perpetrator in the footage released looks strikingly different from Sonic. For one, the fur in the footage looks black with red highlights, while the beloved hero’s fur is an iconic blue. Secondly, the spikes of this individual appear to be sticking upwards, while Sonic’s quills point down. When questioned, GUN agents stated that “Sonic is the only known extraterrestrial hedgehog that is currently residing on earth. He is the only possible individual that fits the description of the perpetrator.”

The video cuts to footage of Sonic being loaded onto a military helicopter.

Scarlet: After his arrest, Sonic temporarily escaped, but was shortly found and captured again, this time restrained.

A picture of an island with a large prison building is shown on screen.

Scarlet: He is currently being held in maximum security in the most isolated government prison in the country, Prison Island. We will be covering more of this story as it plays out. Stay tuned.

The crowd erupts into chattering.

Voice 1: That clearly wasn’t Sonic in that video! How could they just arrest him?

Voice 2: Well, do you know any other hedgehogs that can run that fast? Who else could it have been?

Voice 3: It must be a trick!

Voice 4: Still, what are the odds of another alien hedgehog just showing up all of the sudden?

Amy quietly steps away before she’s noticed by any of the patrons.

Amy: That's… probably him.

She returns to the ally to avoid any one that might be watching.

Amy: Those people we’re right, those two hedgehogs don’t look anything alike! I can’t believe that lame excuse for arresting him like that!

She takes a ring out from her pocket.

Amy: Prison Island, huh? I guess it's the first step to sorting all of this mess out.

She throws the ring, and a portal is opened. On the other side is the same image of Prison Island that was shown on the news.

Amy: Sonic, was it? I’m glad the cards sent me here. You need all the help you can get.

She jumps through the portal and it closes behind her, leaving us with the view of the alley way.

Prison Break Scene

Exterior: Prison Island

We see tails and knuckles step out of the tornado and take cover in the forest. They stealthily make their way to the back gates of the prison.

Tails: alright, lets go over the plan one more time.

Knuckles: worry not fox, I have a near perfect memory. You use your magical techno thing to blind the watchful eyes of the guard bots, then we will make our way as quickly as possible without being seen. If any robots come to us, they will meet their end at my fists!

Tails: (Smiling) I think you’ve got the gist of it. Remember, we only have one chance at this, so let's make it count.

Knuckles: (grinning) One chance is all I need.

Meanwhile, on the other side of prison island

exterior: prison island main building

We see shadow and eggman standing outside of what looks like a back exit to the main facility. Eggman is inside his mech with Stone in the backseat while Shadow faces them. They are hiding in cover from the surrounding jungle trees.

Robotnik: We hopefully all know the plan by now, but I’ll go over it again for Stones sake.

Stone: Your evil plans are even better the second time I get to hear them.

Robotnik: Yes, my trusty parasite, the best evil plans are always repeated before execution. Now, while Stone and I cause the main diversion, you sneak into the facility and steal the chaos emerald. Before you leave, be sure to plant this bomb in the artillery room. The timer is set for 10 minutes, giving us plenty of time to give them the slip before this place blows like Mount Vesuvius!

Stone: Do we just keep fighting bots out here?

Robotnik: Worry not, Stone, we won't be simply idling outside while shadow gets to have all the fun. We’ll do a bit of sight seeing in the facility, perhaps even find the prison cell my grandfather was held in. I’ve been wanting to connect with my family roots.

They break their cover, Robotnik brings the mech in the line of sight of the cameras, only to shoot them down easily, followed by blasting down the door. Shadow speeds by while stone and Robotnik draw in the attention of security bots and start blasting them down.

Cut back to the other side of Prison Island.

Tails presses the button on the same gadget seen from the beginning of the movie. The cameras scanning the area suddenly stop moving, and the two run to the door. Tails brings out another gadget and quickly uses it to decode the door. It opens and they rush inside before it closes and the cameras begin to move again.

Inside the building, security officers notice the temporary malfunction in their cameras, but quickly have their attention turned away at the blaring of a siren.

We cut back to Tails and Knuckles, now surrounded by glowing red alarms.

Tails: That shouldn’t have triggered anything!

Knuckles: It seems we must do this the warriors way. The best way I know how.

Tails: your right Knux, but I just don’t understand what tripped the alarm.

A second later something crashes through the wall directly next to them. They ready themselves for a fight before the dust settles and the figure of Amy holding her hammer appears.

Amy: (coughing) darn, this isn’t the right way.

Tails: um… Hey there.

Amy turns to them, hammer held in anticipation.

Knuckles: Another hedgehog? And a formidable looking foe at that.

Amy: wait! I think I’m on your side!

Tails: You think? Why would you say that?

Amy puts down her hammer and lifts her hands in the air.

Amy: This is going to sound weird, but are you guys trying to break out that blue hedgehog?

Tails: Yeah! How do you know Sonic?

Amy: Okay, this is the weird part. I don’t actually “know” him, I just know of him. And I know he needs help.

Knuckles: This makes no sense. Why would you be here if you only know of him? And how did you know where to find him?

A group of robots turn the corner.

Amy: Look, I promise I’ll explain later, but now really isn’t the best time.

Knuckles runs towards the robots, punching the first into a row of them, destroying them instantly.

Knuckles: We prefer to talk on the run. We have no time to waste waiting for moments of peace to speak.

Amy runs to meet him, hitting another robot rounding the corner. She grins.

Amy: Alright then, I don’t have a problem smashing bots while talking.

Knuckles smiles, and Tails rushes to catch up.

Tails: Let's get moving then!

They all make their way down the corridor. Tails blasts oncoming bots as Amy and Knuckles take turns taking swings at them. The conversation continues as they fight.

Amy: My name is Amy Rose. I’m from Mobius, like you guys I’m guessing.

Knuckles: I no longer consider myself Mobian. I have wandered too long for it to be my home.

Amy: Well, I know it's the original home of the echidnas, and I figured you guys don’t really look like the people on this planet.

Tails: Fair enough.

Amy: We’ll, rumor has it that someone found the master emerald here on earth. Lots of people have been talking about it.

Tails: Already? I knew it wouldn’t be a secret for long, but how did they find out so soon?

Amy: Word travels fast, plus the energy signature of chaos was picked up all the way from Mobius.

Tails: Just like how I found Sonic!

Amy: Stick with me on this. Earlier today I got a message that someone related to the chaos emeralds would need my help.

Knuckles: and how per se did you receive this message?

Amy: It was… From a fortune.

Tails: A fortune? I didn’t think that practice was even around any more.

Amy: It was important for a lot of clans, including mine. I’m one of the only few that still uses it.

Tails: But aren’t they supposed to be super vague? How did you know what you needed to help with?

Amy: I still don’t exactly know. I just knew that if the chaos emeralds were on earth, then there must be someone connected to them on earth as well.

Tails: But how did you know to come *here* to this island?

Amy: Oh, your friend is all over the news. They showed a picture of the prison and I just used the rings to get here.

Knuckles: I like this one. She has strong instincts and follows them.

Tails: Look, it's not that I’m ungrateful for the help, but I kind of think we could have taken care of the prison break part ourselves. We were doing fine until the alarm went off.

Amy: Yeah, sorry about that. But I don’t think the prison break part is what the fortune meant by “help”.

Knuckles: and what is that supposed to mean?

Amy: It means I think I need to help you guys figure out the emeralds. I’ve studied them and know their history when almost everyone thought they were a myth.

Knuckles: How presumptuous.

Amy: Look, I’m just saying, I might know stuff about the emeralds that you guys don’t.

Tails: I guess she makes a good point. You know a lot about the master emerald, but we don’t have a lot of information on the chaos emeralds. That's part of the reason why we can’t find any, and why we don’t know how they disappeared in the first place.

Knuckles takes a moment to think while punching a door down.

Knuckles: I suppose more warriors are always better. And she does fight quite well.

Amy: So you guys trust me?

Tails: That depends. You wouldn’t happen to be working for any mustached, bald doctor, would you?

Amy: I literally got to this planet today.

Tails: Okay, if you really think this is what your fortune meant, and if this is what you want to do, then you can help us.

Amy: Thank you guys! You’ll see, I’ll be the best teammate ever!

She runs up ahead and destroys a line of 3 bots.

Tails: well she’s excitable.

Knuckles: still, the possibility remains that she is deceiving us. I already learned my lesson with Robotnik and do not wish to repeat the same mistake.

Tails: I know, but it feels like she genuinely wants to help. Maybe there’s something else in it for her that she didn’t mention, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Knuckles: I will work with the pink one for now, but if she double crosses us I will not hold back on my revenge.

Tails: I’m sure you won’t, Knux.

They rush to catch up with Amy, who’s approaching a final security door

[geocait0815]

So for a prompt: it's been 6 months since Hannah was found and Jake and MC meet for the first time. It was not a planned meeting they just happened to be in the same place at the same time and written entirely in Jake's POV.

I absolutely loved this prompt! I hope you enjoy reading my take on it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

There is some minor spice. So anyone uncomfortable with this or to young to be subjected to it is hereby warned ;)

Sirens Call

I made it ouf the mine just in time. I stopped briefly to catch my breath when I suddenly heard an explosion behind me. This was not close, but the rumbling that followed told me, that more mine shafts have collapsed now. But there was another sound. “Fuck.” I had seen MCs message waring me about the arrival of the FBI. They had come to capture me. But I would not make it that easy for them.

Just as I dove behind a few fallen tree trunks, a helicopter flew by, almost grazing the tree tops. Its search light briefly illuminated the forest floor just a few meters ahead of me.

My luck was not going to last forever. I had to get out of here. Choosing a path through dense growth would provide me cover, but would also hinder my escape. Given that I am not very familiar with the surroundings, I decided to take the same path I came here, hoping to reach the motorcycle I had hidden, before steet blockades went up.

There was just one more thing I had to take care of before concentrating on my escape. I could not put this off any longer, as much as it hurt me. I pulled out my phone and initiated a script, an emergency plan I had set up already a while ago. This would strip all phones, I had been in contact with over the past couple ofd weeks, of all evidence of my existence. All chats, screenshots, calls and files were being deleted. Also MCs phone was being wiped. “I'm sorry, MC. I promised to never dissapear on you again. But this is for your safety and the safety of your friends and my sisters.” I said to noone in particular. Once I'm certain that my script did its job, I disassembled my phone, took out the SIM card, and wiped this phone as well. I'd be getting rid of both later.

“Farewell, my love.”

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

Six months later

Frustrated, I lean back in my chair, staring at the screen in front of me. Another lead that took me exactly nowhere. I get up and pace through the small room I am currently staying in, stretching my limbs.

During the last few months I have settled back into my old life, the way I was before MC came into my life. I went back into hiding, never staying in the same location for more than two weeks. By now I have crossed several country borders. These days I am staying in a small room in Budapest.

Every waking hour I spend escaping my pursuers while looking for the evidence that could clear my name. Occasionally, I check on the status of the investigations around Hannah and Richy. MCs name does not appear in any of the reports, to my surprise and great relief. I wonder if this is Alans doing.

Stepping to the window, I notice that the street outside is packed with people. This is not just the usual flow of tourists. Right, the receptionist had mentioneds a celebration earlier, there would be fireworks launched from boats on the Danube later thonight. Now is probably a good opportunity to go out and blend into the crowd to get some fresh air and clear my head. I might as well stock up on food and water.

Minutes later I am walking down a side street lined with small restaurants and bars. It is still early evening and the air is finally turning mild after a scorching day. I am heading towards the large Market Hall. At a corner I stop to observe the people around me for a moment, as they are enjoying their lives, celebrating the summer, drinking and dining. This feels alien to me now.

“MC, hurry up!” Am I hallucinating now? The call came from a blonde woman standing in front of one of the restaurants. She seems annoyed. I cannot spot who she was talking to. This is just a coincidence. I decide to move on and turn around.

And there she is. MC is hurrying in my direction. I should get away from there, even though she has no idea what I look like. But all I can do is stand like I'm glued to the pavement, staring at her in awe. She is even more beautiful in real life than on any the fotos I saw on her social media profiles. She wears a light summer dress and the way it accentuates the shape of her perfect body could drive me crazy. Her long hair flows freely down her back. MC walks right past me, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume and it almost knocks the air out of my lungs. Only when she disappears through the door of the restaurant, I realize that I am standing around in open public, staring like a moron.

I force my feet to get moving again. Of all the places in the world and with the myriad of tourists in this city, I still had to run into her like this. How often have I fantasized about finally meeting her and holding her in my arms. Now the moment came and I let it pass. I had to let her pass. My situation has not changed. She would still be in grave danger being with me. Not to mention that she probably hates me now. After I deleted everything and just left, she must think that I abandoned her. Or worse.

I need a drink. Against any better judgement I walk into the next best bar and sit down in a corner. I order a beer and spend about an hour internally arguing with myself. I have to get back to my room, pack up and get the fuck out of this city. But I don't want to. Her being so close to me affects me more than I could have imagined. There is one thought that keeps ricocheting through my head: I won't survive loosing her a second time.

By the time I step back out on the street, the daylight has dimmed. Despite all, my rational side has won and I am turning back towards my motel. Of course my plan is shattered into a thousand pieces again when I see MC standing at the side of the street. She is looking at the phone in her hand, seemlingly deep in thought. Suddenly, she takes a step forward not noticing a taxi speeding towards her.

“NO, MC!” I call out and sprint towards her. But I am too far away. Luckily, she looks up in the last second, stumbling back. I catch her, stopping her fall. MC looks up at me with a flustered expression. “Oof, thank you. I am such a klutz.” she says. “Hey, did I just hear you call my name?” a frown forms on her face. “What? No.” I help her back up and turn around to walk away.

“Jake, is that you?” I hear her say in a low voice. This stops me in my tracks. God, her voice is like a sirens call to me. Slowly I turn around again but I don't dare to look at her now.

A few awkward moments later I feel her hand on my cheek. "It really is you, isnt it?" I look up to meet her gaze. I could drown in those eyes. "MC.." my voice trails off, because I have actually not the slightest idea what to say right now. This is so much easier behind the screen. But now, with her standing right infront of me, my brain blanks. I wonder if she sees a blue screen in my eyes.

Then she hits me. "Where the fuck have you been?" Her question is emphasized by her swatting my chest. "Why did you just disappear? You promised me to meet, but instead you disappear into thin air! We were worried sick! Noone knew if you even made it out of the mine alive!" I let it happen until I notice bystanders starting to stare. To avoid more attention, I catch her wrists and press them to my heart. Tears are flowing down her cheeks. "MC, I am sorry I hurt you. But I had to vanish to escape from the FBI agents looking for me. I never intended to hurt you, but this was also for your safety." "Safety my ass! I've been waiting for you. You had every chance to at least let us know that you were safe."

"We can't discuss this here, out in the open." It is becoming more and more difficult for me to keep a calm voice. "Then let's go somewhere private. Lead the way." The look on MCs face blights any further discussion. So we get moving.

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

My eyes fly open. My motel room lies in darkness now. The sheets around me are in complete disarray. But I am alone. Was this all just a dream? What would be the odds of us actually running into each other here, in this city full of tourists. But why do I still smell her perfume?

I roll on my back and take in my surroundings. When my gaze reaches the slightly illuminated window frame, I see her and a wave of emotions rolls through me. Relief that she is still with me. Guilt over the tears I had to watch her spill because of my betrayal. Gratitude for her actually forgiving me. And then there is this warm, tingly sensation spreading through me when I think back to the things we did afterwards.

Our clothes are scatterd all over the floor. I spot her panties. This tells me that she is standing there at the window facing the main street wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. As quitely as possible I get out of bed and go to stand behind her. I put my hand on her thigh. Her skin is warm and oh so soft. I let my hand wander upwards slowly and sneak under the shirt, caressing her hip, then her belly. Continuing upwards, I cup her right breast, take her nipple between my thumb and index finger and gently pinch and roll it between them. MC sighs. God, that must be the sweetest sound I have heard. The way her nipple hardens between my fingers puts a smile on my face.

She leans back into me and I use my other hand to stroke her hair aside to gain access to her neck, where I start to nibble and kiss up and down. "The fireworks are about to start." She breaks the silence. "Mmmh?" I had completely forgotten about the events outside. I'm about to start a firework in here.

"Jake?" "Yes?" "What happens now?" I sense a sadness and concern in her voice. This tells me that she is not inquiring about the further activities of our night. She turns around, not breaking the contact between us and looks up into my eyes, waiting for a reply. "With all the attention we drew to us today, I can't risk staying here for much longer. I need to get moving very soon." The thought of parting ways with her hurts me.

Her next words catch me by surprise. "I want to come with you." "You can't be serious. I am on the run. You have a life to get back to." "I don't give a shit about my life back there. I haven't in a long time. I'm ready to leave everything behind." She states this calmly and it becomes clear to me that she is not saying this on the spur of the moment. There is no doubt that she put a lot of thought into this. "I'm sure you could find someone to provide us with new identities in this dark web of yours." she continues. I can't help it but chuckle briefly. "MC, I fear you are romanticising my lifestile a little." But she does not back down. "I'm serious, Jake. Let's just run away together and start over in some remote place. It does not mastter to me where we end up. As long as we end up there together."

It takes me a moment to mull over the words she just said. Bringing my hand to her cheek, I stare into her beautiful eyes. Her face is illuminated by lights changing colors from red to orange to blue and purple. People outside are cheering.

I know damn well that a decision like that should not be made in the heat of the moment. But what I am about to say is going to catapult both of our lives into an entire new orbit.

[creaticare]

I have been tagged by @grayseyebrowscar for a WIP game, and I have too many WIP's to not make a separate post. Some of them haven't been touched in ages, but they are still WIP's. There are also themes of death, abuse, and self-harm at least in the titles, and maybe in the WIP sentences.

rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

AOT

Guardian Angel: "Sasha sat up and looked around at her surroundings, she was back at her house in the forest.*

Criminal Minds

Our Witches Heart: "Reid sat at his desk just spinning around, he had finished his paperwork a while ago and now he was just letting his head roam."

DC Comics/Young Justice

Fear Toxined Batfam: "It was a normal patrol when their comms crackled to life, Oracle's voice coming through into their ears."

Green Lantern Ring: "The battle was nearing its end, the Justice League was on its last leg stopping these aliens."

Our friends shouldn't meet ends: "Jason stood with a sword in his hands, at the ready, a playful smile on his face as Wally also fell into stance."

When I Find You: "Dick always found the prospect of soulmates intriguing, his parents seemed like they had a perfect unbreakable bond, so that means he should also have the perfect bond when he was older."

Fairy Tail

MCD one-shots Bxl: "The feeling of being burned from the inside out wasn't one that Bixslow would ever say he appreciated, especially as he felt blood dribble out of his mouth."

MCD one-shots Gjl: "The Guild Hall was buzzing with an uneasy energy under the normal rambunctiousness."

Our Souls Weave Through, Chp 3: "Another week had passed since they had first found themselves in these strange times."

Our Souls Weave Through, Abuse, Gjl: "Gajeel absolutely hated it here, he has only been a part of Phantom Lord for a month and he was miserable, best guild along with the ranks of Fairy Tail his ass."

Our Souls Weave Through, Bitey One-Shot: "Fairy Tail was pretty used to the biting habit Natsu seemed to have, most of them having grown up with him, and having seen him constantly doing it, or being a victim at one point or another."

Haikyuu:

Got a secret series, Can you Keep it: "After all the Ushijima Fiancé craziness had washed over, a fan chose to go back and rewatch the interview."

Swim, Spike, Receive: "Kageyama Tobio didn't always live in Miyagi, he actually used to live in Tokyo with his older brother."

My Life is your Tribute, Hunger Games Crossover: "The ten districts of Panem all used to be one unified country along with their Capital, until they rebelled, causing a war to spread."

Racing Royalty: "Empress sat upon the hood of her car as her Knight filled up the gas in preparation for the race."

Tsukishima's Shoulder, Finding our Footing: "He kept going through the cycles, kept going through these large cycles of doubt. The surgery date was creeping up on him and he was scared."

Creepy Crawly Crows: "The two teams on the court flinched back and the crowd went silent as the Military burst through the doors in the gym."

Figure Four, Finale: "The announcer cleared their throat to get the attention of the stadium, 'Everyone there is still one more performance for today.'"

Sewn Silence: "Bokuto's insecurities were knocking on the metaphorical door once again, he had the all locked away behind a wall of fake emotions."

Short & Tall: "Nishinoya picked up his pace as he tried to keep up with Tsukishima's freakishly long strides. This was one of the many reasons he was not a fan of tall people, they walk too damn fast."

TPN x Haikyuu: "Emma threw her head back as she felt the breeze pass by, she took a deep breath of her true freedom."

Buckle up, it's MHA time

(I have so many MHA fics, at least plans, I was hyperfixated on it for a long time.)

1-A childhood friends and soulmates: "Memories are a fickle thing, you cherish them when you're young, but they will slowly disappear as you grow. Those who you would hold so close to your heart, will suddenly disappear."

Bomb on Campus: "The bright numbers flashed over the campus as teachers were guiding students out of the buildings and through the gates."

Bonding Notes, Chp 3: "As Shoji makes his way into the dorm he digs into his pocket for his white cane."

Fuck, it's the Family: "When class 1-A walked into the classroom one fateful morning they were put on edge by the sinister smile on their teacher's face."

Gouged Clouds and Pittering Paws: "Aizawa was born with his Parental Mark set on his collarbone, a small black cat curled up, sleeping peacefully."

Interviews with the 3's: "The recording flickered on as they all sat around the common rooms of the dorm, Class 3-A and 3-B convened together."

Mutation Quirk Erasure: "Aizawa woke up and went to wake up his kids with a bad feeling in his gut, his brain telling him that something had happened."

Quirk Drawback Fics, Shoji: "The day had been slow, they all started off with Homeroom and then went through their classes until getting to hero training."

Separated for Safety, Chp 2: "Bakugo woke up, his vision slowly coming into focus, he stares at the bright white ceiling as he tries to remember what happened."

Splat the Colorful Hero: "Deku sat atop the roof that All Might had left him on, he sat on the edge with his legs dangling over."

Trauma and Friends: "The class had been getting closer, they were three fourths of the way through their first year at UA, but there were still some barriers between them."

Vanishers, Later in the fic: "Aizawa's head swiveled around to look at the door that had just been flung open, standing there was a panting Present Mic."

What Happened to Memories?: "Memories are a precious thing, but they always seem to just disappear."

When time turns back: "The class was scattered around the area as they fight villains in close and far quarters."

3 Pros, 1 Civilian: "Izuku Midoriya was an odd kid raised in odd ways, he has 4 parents that helped raise him but that's not what was weird about it."

3-A year: "Shoji quickly finished packing his bag, even though classes didn't start till tomorrow he wanted to make sure he had time to move back into the dorms, and get adjusted to his friends."

Deaf MHA: "Aizawa watched his students closely both in and out of class so at any moment he could see if there was anything wrong with them."

Pro Hero Wards, Chaos Fic: "Shoji sits in the common room with his stuff as the class slowly leaves for Christmas break, he was one of the few left waiting."

Shoji Retires: "He couldn't have even told them himself, they had to find out from the official Pro Hero news. Katsuki had run across the article that morning and sent it to the group chat of their old class."

Whumptober

Day 7: "She looks behind her quickly to check if the people are still following her, she doesn't see anyone, but she keeps running."

There are all of my Current and Old WIP's, I'm not gonna tag anyone, but it's open for anyone who wants to do it.

[teaganmyrick]

TIMING: Mid-July

PARTIES: @shroomsbysolomon​ @teaganmyrick​​

SUMMARY: Teagan runs across an aged down Solomon and tries to help while the clocktower strikes at the 13th hour.

CONTENT WARNINGS: memory loss (related to being aged down)

Getting out of the grocery store had been harrowing in its own right—the leshy, who was currently standing just under three feet tall and looking very much like an alien from a popular comic book movie, had attempted to hide at first. He’d been walking down the isle on the hunt for some more coconut oil when a strange feeling washed over him and he noticed everything was getting taller. It wasn’t until he looked down at his body that he realized his glamour had not only petered out, but he was back to his original, rough oak bark skin instead of the papery white birch he’d been wearing since regrowing his body. His phone had clattered to the floor beside him, and after a beat of staring at it, Solomon remembered that he could use it to contact people. Snatching it up in his hands (which it now dwarfed), the leshy had darted into the lowest shelf of boxed goods, squirming behind them—but someone had seen him. Someone was yelling. More people were coming his way, crowding around the place he’d been standing. His breaths came quick and shallow, the world closing in around him as he tapped furiously at the screen to get it to wake up.

It wasn’t until he opened up the familiar looking little speech bubble drawing that he realized he couldn’t quite remember how to speak. The words were coming in little bursts rather than full sentences, and the scribbles on the screen that were supposed to be letters made next to no sense. The one thing he did recognize, however, was the picture of the microphone in the bottom corner. He’d used that thing well before ever learning how to read, after all.

Pressing it and speaking frantically at the device, he watched the words send one by one. This wasn’t going to be fast enough, more legs were gathering in the aisle. Clutching the phone to his little wooden chest, Solomon launched himself out of the boxes of cereal and into the crowd, giving his best war cry as he scrambled between their knees and toward the exit. As he ran, he still tried to contact someone, anyone, sending garbled messages this way and that, picking up the voices of those reacting to his presence as well.

Bursting out into the world and earning the shouts of startled Cresters as he went, the leshy sprinted through downtown as tears streamed down his face. He needed to get to the woods, he needed to get out of here and away from all these people. But where was the forest? Everything looked so different now, he couldn’t even tell where he was.

The day had been filled with nothing more but caffeine and refreshing swims. Teagan liked it that way. But as it worked, White Crest always had a change of plans. A crowd of people running knocked over the nix’s drink and she couldn’t help the frustrated groan that escaped her. She quickly swiped the cup, whipping her head left and right to figure out what was happening. People surrounded her, hurried into buildings and held the doors shut tight to protect themselves from intruders. Finding that peculiar, Teagan made her way toward the source, ignoring people’s declarations that she was heading the wrong way.

Within a few yards, she saw that the downtown area was completely deserted, save for some litter and…an upright root? Branch? Teagan blinked, a little confused as to what was transpiring in front of her. The closer she got, the more she digested the poor creature’s features and the buzz strengthening under her skin. Which only meant one thing: the little one was fae. A leshy, to be more precise.

They looked scared and lost, and much, much more confused than her. “Are you all right?” She asked, kneeling down and outstretching a hand. “It’s okay, little one. I’m a friend. Can you feel that warm hum inside? Means I’m like you.” Worry fluttered in Teagan’s stomach, and she scooted a little closer. The leshy had to be so young given how small they were. She needed to get them to a safe place. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help.” So close to reaching, she paused, offering the leshy to accept the help on their terms. “Will you let me?”

Short, panicked breaths made the leshy’s chest heave as he turned this way and that, trying to get a sense of where he was. The humans had mostly scattered, save for one… who was now walking right at him. Solomon took a step back, still hugging the large cell phone to himself, staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

For a moment, the hand she extended toward him was not her own, but the reaching, bloodied fingers of the human he’d once thought of as family. A small cry swelled in the back of his throat but he tried to stifle it, blinking away the hallucination and focusing his gaze on the other fae’s face instead. She was speaking to him, saying something… something about them being alike. His grasp on language was shaky at best, but it was more the gentle tone in which she spoke that eventually drew him toward her. Closing the distance between them, Solomon stumbled into her and wrapped his arms around her neck, again dropping the phone as it was forgotten in favor of real contact. “Home, home, home,” he whimpered, clinging to her like a baby chimp would cling to their mother.

Pulling Solomon close, Teagan’s lungs released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. His whimpers of fear and begs for home made her lungs kick in her chest, and she released a sigh that dripped with both panic and relief. And like the protector she was, she shielded the leshy in her arms and grabbed the phone he was clinging onto. “Home,” she parroted. “Where is home? I want to take you there.” She wanted to be the broom that swept his worries into a dustpan and tossed them as far away from him as she could. Teagan didn’t know the little one long, but she would already put everything on the line for him. That love came with their undying connection.

“I’ll take you to the woods, okay? We can be safe there and we won’t have pesky humans. Hold onto—” BONG! The sound of the clocktower’s bell roared so loudly that Teagan’s vision blurred. BONG! Still, as she fell to her knees, she tightened her arms around Solomon and didn’t dare let him go. BONG! Despite how the world shifted and tinged over with a heavy blue, how everything began to crumble and float, how it all turned upside down, she held firmly onto him. “It’s okay,” She whispered, “I’ve got you.”

“Woods,” he repeated after her, sucking in a wavering breath. Gripping onto her with all the strength he could muster, the leshy wailed as the deafening bong of the nearby clocktower rocked them both to their core. Everything around them started to break apart and rearrange, horrifying the little fae that closed his eyes tightly shut in response. “Móðir!” he cried in fear, burying his face against her neck, the little leaf sprouts that poked out of his bark here and there trembling from the booming sound. On and on and on it went, and after it struck for the thirteenth time, it went quiet. After a beat of waiting for the next bong but hearing none, Solomon lifted his head to look around them. Everything seemed… off. Familiar, but wrong. Still he clung to the fae that held him in her arms, shivering against her as he looked around them. “... where?”

“I don’t know,” Teagan responded, standing up as she held firmly onto the leshy. He was shaking much like a babe, prompting her to shush soothingly so she could focus on their corrupted surroundings. Of course White Crest had sent them to another plane, why wouldn’t it?

Everything looked decrepit, run down and smelling vaguely musky. Which, only added to the heaviness that lingered in the air while Solomon and Teagan shared silence. That air quickly took on a crisp chill, and that eerie blue haze soon flowed into a decrepit orange as the skies went nearly black. The endless twilight they were left in made Teagan tremble herself, sucking in a sharp breath.

It seemed now both of them were terrified into frozen statues of wherever they were sent. But between the two, she knew she had to tread on, the ticking coming to the forefront of Teagan’s hearing with every crunch of debris and every distant chitter. She made it to a small store, getting the pair inside to hide from whatever may be lurking outdoors. Thankfully, the store was mostly wide open, giving her anxiety a moment to decrease while the gears in her mind turned for a plan. Placing Solomon down, Teagan unholstered her knife and shifted her hands into webbed claws, and kneeled next to him. “If there’s a way in, there’s a way out. We’ll figure it out, okay? But first thing’s first. I’m…” She placed a hand to her chest, “Teagan. And you?” She pointed at him, hoping for a response.

“Grímr,” the leshy responded quickly before pausing, realizing how foreign the name sounded on his tongue. It had been his name, once. When he was this age the first time around… when he still interacted with that human clan that brought him overseas. One of the children had named him, and for centuries, it had stuck. Until he took Solomon’s face and his name for his own, a memory that now seemed faint. “Ah… Solomon,” he corrected himself quietly, squinting his large eyes tightly shut as he tried to remember something. The name Teagan sounded familiar, but who had said it to him before?

His eyes shot open and he looked up at Teagan, a smile blooming on his face in spite of their situation. “Marina!” He pointed excitedly at the nix then back to himself, bouncing on the spot. “Friend!”

Something outside rumbled angrily through the sky, quickly wiping the look of elation from his features. He moved close to Teagan again, a worried groan slipping free. “Yggdrasil… dying?” It’s certainly what this felt like—like the world was dying around them.

Teagan choked out a laugh, in slight disbelief at the luck of their mutual friendship with Marina. Tears threatened to fall, but Solomon’s excitement pushed back against the waterfall, preventing even a single drop. “Oes, oes. Marina is my dear friend.” She wished she could’ve stayed in that moment, settled into the elation that came with their discovery. But everything ended or came to a pause, and if Teagan and Solomon were to get back to a moment such as that, they’d need to take care of any danger that may be lurking around the corner.

“Dying?” She inquired, a little confused at the leshy’s comment. “No one is dying. Not if I can help it.” Slowly, Teagan walked to the door as she crouched, placing an arm in front of Solomon to signal him to stop abruptly. Her eyes widened at the sight, tentacles swaying like feelers on the prowl for the predator they were connected to. The sound from the creature’s throat was akin to claws dragging against sandpaper, a growl so eerie that a strange, cold feeling came over Teagan. She felt it more than heard the resonation, felt the layers of bravery peel away to give way to terror. Never had she seen such a creature with such a bloody and writhing body. Worst of all, it was getting closer, seeming to enjoy her distress as she backed away, covering Solomon with her body.

Solomon knew nothing of the beast that stalked toward them, though if he had, he may have been less frightened by it. They were not its usual target—far from it, in fact—but this particular creature seemed happy to make entertainment for itself out of the fae that had stumbled upon it. Perhaps it was the fact that they were displaced and already afraid that encouraged the hound to engage with them, in spite of their supernatural status. Whatever the reason, it was advancing in their direction and making sounds that Solomon felt certain would haunt him the rest of his achingly long life.

A loud ticking sound began to fill the air as they both backed away from the creature, Solomon whimpering. It didn’t seem particularly concerned about either of them, approaching them in the way a feline might zig and zag in front of a human it was interested in but refused to get close to, but it didn’t matter. It was horrifying, whatever it was, without even trying. “Teagan,” the leshy whimpered, “leave. We leave?”

The sounds, though wet in nature and something Teagan should have been used to, were leaving the hair all over her body standing on end. Every instinct telling her to move, stinging at every nerve. A signal for her survival and innate need to protect her fellow fae. His whimpers sparked something both Teagan and the hound. While the blaze melted her frozen state and ignited her resolve, Solomon’s suggestion of leaving seemed to have angered the beast. It lunged forward and she swiped, but found no purchase, and it seemed as if the beast enjoyed her attempts at attacking. The way the fear caused her to fight back.

Its jowls curled to reveal sharp teeth, like a smile, and Teagan did the same. Her face was painted in scales in an instant, revealing several rows of her own sharp bite. The yeth hound no longer seemed interested in the nix with her newfound fervor, and instead took to circling around to hiss at Solomon. It howled, the sound piercing and unsettling in a way that turned Teagan’s stomach, tightened her whole body with cold fear once again. But that was nothing to the burn of the ice that trampled over her when she laid eyes on several more hounds.

“Leaving. Leaving!” Teagan grabbed Solomon without a second thought. The beasts stayed in place, writhing and howling in unison as the two ran away. She wasn’t sure if they’d stay there, but she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

As they ran from the perceived threat, Solomon’s small frame seemed to come alive with magic, plants blooming from his bark and speeding through their life cycles only to wilt and drop away from him, leaving a trail of death behind them. The sky roiled and churned, thick with smog that threatened to choke. Filthy water ran through the streets, oily and black. Still the clocktower ticked, ticked, ticked down the seconds of the nonexistent hour as it created a world they would hate the most if it were real—nature strangled by civilization. As the pair exited the building to try and make their way somewhere safer, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed through the inky sky. The roads twisted and turned in ways they hadn’t before, circling back and keeping the fae trapped in the manmade sprawl that was stalked by all manner of creatures that wished to frighten them.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Solomon glanced up at the clocktower that was still somehow within their line of sight—it never seemed to leave. 13:23. They couldn’t escape it. They couldn’t escape this place, and now a flood was sweeping through the abandoned streets, carrying with it dead lake animals that bobbed around the surface like apples in a carnival game.

Teagan’s heart ached at the sight, how the water crash waves into one another, and slammed each precious animal into everything it consumed. The gray in their eyes and the stiffness against the thunderous reservoir made her stomach lurch, and she had to look away as she grew sick to the side. Collecting herself as quickly as she could, Teagan grabbed ahold of Solomon and gave him instruction. “Don’t let go of me, okay? I can swim through this but the waves will be strong.” Her scales cascaded over her skin, fins and gills forming just as quickly as the water finally reached them.

Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! How was it growing louder?

The two were thrown back, swirling in the water with a force so powerful that Teagan nearly forgot she could breathe underwater. Though really, it was as if it was polluted in a way that didn’t allow for much oxygen to reach her. She struggled for a few moments, wrapping her arms firmly around Solomon as she made her way to higher land. Bodies of all kinds rammed into them, making it difficult to navigate. But finally, her claws latched onto the wet earth, and she pulled them both up and took a cleaner breath of air.

Tick! Teagan grew dizzy from the sound, the volume rising in her ear somehow.

“Are you all right?” She asked, helping Solomon rebalance himself as she carefully watched the water level in her peripherals.

Doing as he was told, Solomon held onto the nix for dear life as she tried to get them to higher ground and out of the slurry of pollution and dead creatures. The panic swelled in his chest and he felt certain that he would never feel anything else but fear ever again. Tears poured from his eyes, lost in the flood that threatened to suck them under and take their lives just as it had all those animals that surrounded them. Even as Teagan was finally able to haul them out of the muck and settle him safely in the mud, he quietly cried. When she asked if he was alright, it turned into full blown sobs, his body curling in on itself. The earth around him stirred with life, but any plants that were coaxed into being with his chaotic magic quickly rotted in the poisonous air.

From where they sat on a large hill that had never been there in the real world, the town was sprawled out before them, drowning in syrupy blackness. Corpses littered the place, now of all sorts of creatures, even some people. The sky was dark and angry, thunder and lightning still erupting in the thick clouds and lighting up the scene with a sickly, unnatural green glow. Tick! Tick! Tick! The clocktower sat dead center in the mess, its face staring them down almost challengingly. Tick! Tick! Tick! It drowned out the thunder, drowned out every thought in Solomon’s little head, leaving room for nothing but terror. He reached for Teagan, having lost all hope of escape and simply wanting some form of comfort in this terrible fate that had befallen them.

What was happening differed from any nightmare or night terror in that the each small fear ever constructed in their minds had come to life. It was no longer a figment of imagination, but suddenly real and titanic in its implications. A situation so far beyond grotesque, that Teagan would’ve given her life to make it end for the terrified leshy. Solomon shook in her arms and all she could do was take her strength and wrap him in it so nothing else could touch him. Even if there was no end to what they were experiencing, she made a silent promise to keep trying. So even if Solomon lost all hope, she never would. She couldn’t afford to.

As powerful as the ticking clocktower was behind them, and as sickening as the sludge filled with death appeared, Teagan beckoned her determination to be as bright as the lightning giving the sky a green hue. “We’re not giving up. I’m not giving up, my dear. I’ve got you.” She stood again, ready to wage war, and restore light to darkness. With her will alone, she would dismiss shadows and death, and move forward again.

Tick! Tick! Tick!

Nothing mattered but moving forward, save for the every looming ticking from the clock. Teagan trudged forward and it wasn’t until a bone-rattling BONG! rang out, sending the nix to her knees. She clutched to Solomon and panted as the weight of the sound left her lungs constricted. BONG! BONG! “It’s going to be okay!” She yelled as loud as she could over the remnants of the sound, her throat aching at the effort. “It’s okay. Just keep holding—” BONG! BONG! BONG!

As the sky erupted with thunderous chimes from the clocktower, it seemed to splinter the very fabric of reality. Each new toll of the bell vibrated through the air, pressing down on everything in its path. Smothering. Suffocating. Killing, just like the smoke and the fire and the smog and the oil—

The chartreuse sky howled and expanded, fissures ripping open in the charcoal clouds and emitting a blinding white light. BONG! BONG! BONG! The pair were wrenched apart as the world around them shattered and fell away into a black abyss, the white hot crevices growing longer as they spiderwebbed across the visible expanse of endless night.

They too were falling.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

Solomon wailed in horror, unable to see Teagan through the chaos that was the crumbling town as it tumbled into nothingness around him.

BONG!

The thirteenth chime, and suddenly it was dark. Still he fell, eyes closed, slipping out of consciousness. Then, like the crack of a whip, the world around them suddenly arrived. The ground rose up to meet him and Solomon landed hard on his back, knocking the air from his lungs and jolting him back into wakefulness. Panic still had a fierce grip on him, even as he opened his eyes to see the world back as it was meant to be, and he wasted no time. Scrambling to his feet, the leshy bolted from the area, vowing to never return to such a terrible place. His thoughts were not with the nix that had done all she could to protect him—all that he could think about was getting the hell away from there.

[baleriontheblackkitten]

A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I

Gorgeous chapter, I'm tempted to just copypaste pretty much everything.

Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers. The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.

Oh, Catelyn, starting the series highlighting her Tully-ness, her preference for the godswood in Riverrun, her dislike of the things about the North that are most alien for her southern self. She starts out very un-Northern-like, un-Stark-like, but as winter approaches, literally and metaphorically, as circumstances grow darker around her, she muses about becoming more like a Stark, thinking more like a Stark, seeing the world from a Stark-like perspective.

It must be said, though, that despite her growing into her Stark-ness, she does stay also a Tully through and through. She dies and is reborn in a very Tully way, not only geographically closer to Riverrun than the North, but also symbolically, given to the river and being retrieved from it. But then again, it's Arya's direwolf (Arya herself inside the direwolf, one could say) who retrieves her, allowing her rebirth! Insane books for insane people.

Let's get back to this paragraph. It's all so heartbreaking with the hindsight of knowing what happens later - how she thinks of Riverrun, the beautiful and gentle image she has of it, knowing the fate that's awaiting the riverlands; how alien she finds the darkness of the Winterfell godswood, the gloominess of the castle, the hardness of the trees, and how she'll also turn into something dark and primal and gloomy, a creature of decay and deep silence and brooding shadows, first metaphorically/psychologically and then literally.

I find it strange how people seem to talk about Lady Stoneheart like she's a different person from Catelyn? That makes no sense. There would be no Lady Stoneheart without all the love Catelyn had for her family and all the pain she was forced to endure as she lost all the people she loved one by one until she broke. Her own death wasn't even the thing that changed her the most - it was the grief.

But this is early in the story for that …

Catelyn had been anointed with the seven oils and named in the rainbow of light that filled the sept of Riverrun. She was of the Faith, like her father and grandfather and his father before him. Her gods had names, and their faces were as familiar as the faces of her parents. Worship was a septon with a censer, the smell of incense, a seven-sided crystal alive with light, voices raised in song. The Tullys kept a godswood, as all the great houses did, but it was only a place to walk or read or lie in the sun. Worship was for the sept. For her sake, Ned had built a small sept where she might sing to the seven faces of god, but the blood of the First Men still flowed in the veins of the Starks, and his own gods were the old ones, the nameless, faceless gods of the greenwood they shared with the vanished children of the forest. At the center of the grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. “The heart tree,” Ned called it. The weirwood’s bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved in the trunk of the great tree, its features long and melancholy, the deep-cut eyes red with dried sap and strangely watchful. They were old, those eyes; older than Winterfell itself. They had seen Brandon the Builder set the first stone, if the tales were true; they had watched the castle’s granite walls rise around them. It was said that the children of the forest had carved the faces in the trees during the dawn centuries before the coming of the First Men across the narrow sea. In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch. Up here it was different. Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face.

Sorry for the long copypaste, but I love this bit. These first chapters are so good at brushing a painting of the world we're entering.

Gods that have faces but not names send your thoughts directly to Arya's journey, learning to have many faces and letting go of her name. Ironically, the Faceless Men are about having no faces (it's in the name) and worshipping one god. But I am sure that Arya will go through that journey subverting that, and reconnecting with a dimension where there are multiple gods with faces. Most likely in the Isle of Faces, where I'm sure many mysteries will be unveiled for us readers and for the characters.

Also, sight theme my beloved. The nameless gods of the North see. They watch. The faces on the trees were carved by the children of the forest - they gave the weirdwood trees their eyes. Were they the ones who created the possibility of seeing through them? Are the trees the eyes of the children of the forest, just like the risen dead seem to be the eyes of the Others? Is Bloodraven (and Bran) tapping into the "sight network" engineered by the children of the forest?

Did people in the South destroy the weirdwoods out of ignorance and negligence, or very much on purpose? Are the weirdwoods on the Isle of Faces kept for reasons that go beyond the religious or ritual, but are very strategic? "Their silent watch" Catelyn calls it - it suggests that it's very much a deliberate action, and more literally a watch than Catelyn probably intends. Not just a watch as in a ritual of worship, but a literal watch through the eyes of the weirdwoods.

Um. Guys? Guys?? Is it weird if I just realized that the Night's Watch is called the Night's Watch? Wasn't anyone going to tell me that the Night's Watch is called the Night's Watch or was I supposed to just realize on my own??

I promise I'm a well-adjusted individual. Mostly.

[…] The red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came. “Ned,” she called softly. He lifted his head to look at her. “Catelyn,” he said.

Oh, they're watching you. It's extremely likely that Bran is watching, right?

I love the detail of their conversation starting with their names, simple and essential. In a godswood where the gods have no names, they say each other's names. I saw what you did there, George.

She could feel the eyes watching her, but she did her best to ignore them.

Yeah, I suppose it's kind of creepy.

“Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite sure.” “Is he afraid?” Ned asked. “A little,” she admitted. “He is only three.” Ned frowned. “He must learn to face his fears. He will not be three forever. And winter is coming.” “Yes,” Catelyn agreed. The words gave her a chill, as they always did. The Stark words. Every noble house had its words. Family mottoes, touchstones, prayers of sorts, they boasted of honor and glory, promised loyalty and truth, swore faith and courage. All but the Starks. Winter is coming, said the Stark words. Not for the first time, she reflected on what a strange people these northerners were.

This section is so layered and there's also a layer that's downright funny.

But it also makes you think of a time where Rickon won't be three anymore, and when winter has come. Will Rickon be the thing that others ought to be scared of? I mean, by TWOW he'll be five, not exactly that much older, and I expect him to be used by the Northern lords for his claim on Robb's crown as the male Stark sibling next in line with Bran assumed dead, creating a rift between that side and the side that supports Sansa's claim as the next oldest sibling. (A parallel narrative to Aegon, supported by Doran Martell among others vs Dany, supported by Arianne Martell among others - I'll eat my hat if the "queenmaker" arc was not a misdirection/foreshadowing for a different queen. But I'm digressing agaiiin).

Anyway. I'm also sure that whatever has happened to Rickon will have shaped his personality, too, and that will also matter.

Anyway. Ah, the conversation between Ned and Cat about the Night's Watch and the things beyond the Wall … Even Catelyn, not even a northerner, has a sense of the dark things that are beyond the Wall.

“You listen to too many of Old Nan’s stories. The Others are as dead as the children of the forest, gone eight thousand years. Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all.”

The women's wisdom and the men's rationalism. A classic trope, just like how the intellectuals' logic and knowledge through studies is wrong while the stories passed from woman to woman are right. Maybe this angle aged slightly badly in a time of raging anti-intellectualism, but it's a fantasy with magic and creatures. That's kind of its job to use the genre tropes.

(And it's possible the tropes will be subverted if it turns out the Maesters know exactly what's up and engineered the lack-of-magic pre-series on purpose, and the rationalistic logic is a constructed façade. And there's magic, in form of alchemy, among them too …)

Plot! Jon Arryn's death, Robert's coming. I am only noticing in my re-read that the mother direwolf was killed by a stag - Catelyn noticed, too.

Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in signs.

Chewing glass etc etc. Ned is so excited to see his friend … that will be the death of him.

Exposition about the Lannisters. It will be good to see the children - respectfully fuck you George :)

The chapter transitions are always thought out - this chapter literally ends with these joking words regarding Robert: “Damn the man. Damn his royal hide.” and bam. We switch to the very two people who have most reason to curse Robert for real …

[lunagb]

A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x The Walking Dead)

BOOK 2 - A Road of Snow and Grime

Chapter 6: Enough For One Lifetime

Masterlist

Relationships: Daryl Dixon x Carol, Rick Grimes x Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes & Sophia, and basically a friendship tag with Jon Snow & Everyone else [except Shane].

Summary: A month has passed since Jon Snow awakened on a highway outside of Atlanta and joined Rick Grimes and his fellow survivors. His memories of his death have returned and our alien world is beginning to make a bit of sense. Ever since the loss of the CDC, surviving in the apocalypse has been a daily struggle. The group is on thin ice. Supplies are dwindling. Hope is fading. The dead are walking. And their only chance for life may be a run-down farm, an old man and his daughters.

Chapter Summary: After the battle of the bar, the group is left with two decisions. Mercy or death for Randall & Peace or war with the Culvers.

Time Frame: Farm Arc - TV Variant Adjacent

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Ghost, Mormont's Raven, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Sophia, Dale, Glenn Rhee, Andrea, T-Dog, Edwin Jenner, Shane Walsh, Beth Greene, Maggie Greene, Hershel Greene, Randall Culver,

Warnings: gore, vivid descriptions of dead bodies, child mutilation, graphic violence, death, murder, active combat, descriptions of armed warfare

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

In the back of the rangerover, speeding down the forest road, Maggie and Hershel fought to stop Randall’s bleeding. Blood darkened his jeans around the two puncture wounds in his thighs and where Needle had stuck his shin. Only his ragged breathing suggested he clung to life. Hershel knelt on his right thigh, applying pressure. Blood flowed freely from his mangled fingers and the bullet graze across his temple. Maggie battled to pull her belt free of her jeans. If the gods had mercy, the boy would bleed out before they arrived at the farm. Fat chance of that. From the front passenger seat, Jon watched Maggie use her belt as a tourniquet. She tightened it around the top of the boy’s right thigh. Rick’s belt served for the left. Behind Jon, in the second row of seats, Rick gawked at their mistake over the top of his seat.

What is there to gawk at? A dying boy? Gawk out the windows, fool. At the road. At the forest. Gawk for lights. Listen for engines. They could be descending upon us even now. Our doom. Men. Any number of them. Armed with terrible power. Hungry for revenge. For our blood. Your blood. My blood.

Jon watched the forests and road behind. Lightless. He listened for engines. Only the roar of the rangerover’s engine as Glenn put pedal to floor. It rumbled the floor beneath Jon’s feet, coursing vibrations through his body. Ahead, the opening of the forest presented rolling fields and the distant silhouette of the farm doused in meager starlight.

“Almost there!” Glenn shouted.

Maggie pressed on the boy’s left high with both hands and gave no response. Her eyes spoke of the truth; the hard truth. If the others saw things the same way, hope remained for reason. Unlikely.

“Hershel, do you know how large this Culver clan is?” Jon asked above the roar of the engine.

“What?” Hershel kept his eyes glued to the dying boy.

“The Culvers, how many are there?”

Hershel’s brow wrinkled. “If they all survived, maybe ten or so. Why?”

“And how many are men and women grown?”

“I don’t know. Half?”

Jon nodded and sat back in his seat, watching the road before him. At least, one. At most, ten. He’d faced worse odds.

Upon returning to the farm, they were greeted by a crowd of gawkers. The others gathered around the rangerover, peering through the windows at the mistake harboured within. Behind them, Jon spied Shane watching from afar. For all his madness, the man’s eyes spoke of truth. Why must it be him? A cacophony of questions met Jon as he exited the car, all shouted. Rick raised his hands for silence. When he got none, he shouted above the noise.

“Beth! Jenner! Go inside and bring Hershel’s surgical equipment! We’ve got an injured in the back who needs immediate treatment!”

The shouting stopped.

“Wh-What kind of injury?” Beth asked.

“The kid fell on a fence, pierced both his legs,” Glenn said. He emerged from the car, gripping his gun tight. The starlight made him look pale as a ghost.

Jon saw the whites of Beth’s eyes as she gawked at the car.

Jenner grabbed her arm. “Come on, show me where you keep it. There’s no time to stare.”

Beth gave a quick, frightened nod then sprinted for the house, Jenner in tow. The moment they left, the shouting resumed. Lori’s voice broke above the braying.

“What happened out there?! Why are you all covered in blood?!” She rushed to Rick, half-mad with fear. She felt Rick all over for wounds.

Rick stopped her hands and made to speak but, Jon spoke first.

“We were attacked!” He boomed over the shouting. His words hung among a newfound silence.

“By people?” Dale spoke barely above a whisper, as if afraid to utter the words.

“Aye, by people.”

As Jon said that, icy fingers wriggled free of the scar above his heart, entwining themselves around him in a gentle embrace. Goose prickles washed over him as a clammy cold chilled his skin.

“Snow!” A fluttering mass of black feathers emerged from the void of the moonless night.

Bloodbeak perched upon his shoulder. His good eye met Jon’s while the scarred faced the stunned crowd.

“You kill ‘em?” Shane asked.

Rick scowled. “Yes. In self-defence.”

“And this kid?” Andrea pointed to the car. “He’s one of them?”

“He is.”

“Is that safe?” Lori asked.

“Fuck no, it’s not!” Disgust thickened Andrea’s voice. “He tried to kill you guys, probably still wants to.”

“He’s a child…” Dale said.

“So?”

“Do you even hear yourself, Andrea?” T-Dog asked.

“Oh god, don’t you two-”

“Enough!” Rick shouted. The effort made him wince. He leaned on the car’s roof for support. “We’ll have a calm, discussion about what to do now. I made a decision out there; a decision I’ve brought back. That decision impacts all of our lives. So, let’s talk about what to do now and make a decision together. Like a democracy should. All I ask if that we keep things civil.”

Dale smiled. “Exactly. Let’s not act like animals.”

Andrea huffed. “Yeah, whatever.”

The farmhouse’s front door flew open. Jenner and Beth erupted out of it, medical supplies bundled in their arms. They hurried down the porch steps and rounded the car. Beth opened the back of the rangerover. Jenner addressed Rick as he pulled on a pair of blue gloves.

“Get them out of here, we need room to-”

Beth shrieked. “Daddy?!” She dropped the supplies in her arms.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” Hershel said.

“No you ain’t! You’re missin’ fingers!” Beth scrambled inside the rangerover.

Jenner poked his head in after her. “Jesus…”

“Jenner, get in here, take over for Dad,” Maggie said. “Beth, take Dad out and patch up his hand.”

“My hand can wait. Beth, you’ll stay and assist us.” Hershel said. “The boy’s ruptured his femoral arteries. Unless either of you know how to tie of an artery, I’m stayin’.”

“You can’t tie of an artery with one hand, I know that much,” Jenner said.

“No, but I can guide Maggie through it. Bring the kit inside.”

As Hershel began listing off all the things they’d need, any arguing stopped within the car. Beth and Jenner hurried to bring the supplies inside, like a pair of headless chickens. There was no time to argue against the foolishness, Jon had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Best we give them some space,” Jon said to Rick.

Rick nodded before addressing the group. “Alright, people let’s give ‘em room to work. We’ll discuss what happened, inside.”

Without waiting for a response, Rick limped off for the house, clutching Lori’s shoulder. Mumbling and grumbling, the others followed. In the absence where the group once stood, they left behind a white shade. Ghost padded across the gravel and nuzzled Jon’s chest. Crimson matted his jaws.

Jon scratched the direwolf behind the ears. “Come, Ghost with me.” With the direwolf at his side, his words might gain a bit more legitimacy, Jon hoped.

Ghost’s red eyes met Jon’s but, only for a moment. They wandered to his shoulder. Jon followed the direwolf’s gaze to find a small, sodden mark on his cloak. Warm and crimson, it smelt of iron. As if in a dream, Jon touched the wound. Numb, void of pain. Battle madness. A sensation not easily forgotten. A troubling thought dashed any memories of the past. The bullet pierced my mail. Jon hurried for the house, Ghost at his side, intent on making the fools see the truth of their situation.

Inside, Jon found the others gathered in the living room. As Rick told them of all that’d happened in the town, Jon lingered in the doorway, surveying his audience. Closest to the doorway, Andrea sat in a cushioned chair, listening to Rick with a scowl plastered across her face. Her eyes spoke of truth seen. An ally. Regrettably, another ally stood beside her. Leaning on the back of the chair, Shane shared Andrea’s scowl. A patchwork of mismatch stubble covered his head. Any support from him would do Jon no favours but as far as support went, Shane and Andrea were his only options, Jon knew. Glenn stood by Rick’s side, still clutching his shotgun, tight, as if relaxing even a little would cause it to drop. The man had a good nature and a sharp mind, Jon knew, but a soft heart. As did T-Dog. The burly, dark-skinned man sat on the opposite side of the room to Andrea, beside the door to where Carl slept. Under different circumstances, Jon could’ve counted on him to see reason but, a fool puppeteer his soft heart. The fool in question, Dale sat beside T-Dog, on the end of a couch. The two men shared wide-eyed, horror-struck gazes as they listened to Rick. Only one person in the room puzzled Jon. Lori. She stood beside her husband, opposite Glenn, stone-faced and impassive. Her gaze met Jon’s and she frowned at him.

“So that’s how it happened,” Rick finished. He looked around the room, grim. “I made a decision out there, in the heat of the moment and brought the consequences back to all of y’all. Now it’s on all of us to decide where to go from here.”

“He can’t stay here,” Andrea said at once.

“Well, we can’t just kick him out to die,” Dale shot back.

“He tried to kill our people.”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s-”

“It matters not,” Jon said. He stepped forward and stood before them, Ghost at his side. Every set of eyes found him, suspicious and curious. “What we do with the boy is an issue best squabbled over at a later date. Right now, we face a far greater issue. The ramifications of defending ourselves and taking this boy hostage. We killed all our attackers bar one. A man escaped, unharmed. As we speak, this lone man will be rushing back to his group. Mayhaps he is there right now. Mayhaps he arrived a while ago and his fellows are on their way, here, to seek revenge for their fallen comrades.”

To Jon’s great surprise and relief, his words darkened the expression of every face in the room. A smog of fret hung over them.

“The fuck you let him get away for?” Shane asked, glaring at Rick.

“We tried to stop him,” Glenn answered. “The shots missed.”

“So go after him!”

“Stop.” Rick raised a hand. “Playin’ the blame game gets us nowhere.”

Rick and Shane shared seething stares.

“And, we’re sure they’ll come after us? Do they even know where we are?” Dale asked, his voice small.

“Aye, they knew Hershel by sight. This is the first place they’ll seek revenge.”

“But how do we know they’ll come after us.”

“Wouldn’t you, if someone killed your family?” T-Dog asked. He held his head in his hands. Fear thinned his voice. “I know I would.”

Dale shuddered, slumped into the couch cushion and ran his hand over his face.

“So we fight, then?” Andrea asked. “I doubt they’re in a talking mood.”

“Or run,” Lori said. “We don’t have any defences, except that shitty fence. And for all we know, we’re outnumbered.”

Andrea looked about to argue but Rick raised his hand and she stopped.

“Let’s take a vote on it, right now but first, I’ll lay out the facts so y’all can make an informed decision. Hershel says that, at most, this group has ten people, most likely less, best case scenario only one. We’ve got guns and ammo for a fight, but not enough for everyone. Our only defensive options is the fence and the cars. None of y’all, except for Shane and I, are trained for a fight like this. If we fight, there’s a real chance some of y’all die.”

“And if we run, the same chance remains,” Jon said. “The farm protects us from the dead, and, given enough time to fortify, from the living. Here, we have a chance for life, a chance worth fighting for. Dying for. We’re survivors, are we not? Countless others roam dead, while we live on because you’re all brave enough to make the hard choices when it counts.”

The group exchanged glances. Andrea and Shane shared hard gazes and a nod but the looks shared between Dale, T-Dog, Lori, Glenn and Rick were mysteries. See the truth, gods be willing. Jon grit his teeth.

“Take a moment to mull it over,” Rick said. “When you’ve made your decision on whether we fight or run, raise your hand.” Rick raised his hand.

Jon raised his hand too, as did everyone else, all except Dale. Gumming his teeth, he stared at his hand, opening and closing his fingers. He closed his eyes and raised it.

“All those in favour of fighting, lower your hands,” Rick said.

As one, the group lowered their hands. A beautiful sight. Jon could not help but smile. As did Shane.

“That’s a majority, man. Even if all the others say no,” Shane said.

Rick glared at Shane and nodded. “Still, better get their votes anyway. It’s the right thing. As for Randall, the boy we took prisoner, we’ll decide what to do with him tomorrow. If we’re still here.”

“Whatever, you do that. I’m on first watch.”

“No. Dale and T-Dog have first watch tonight. You’ll help Glenn move the cars into a defensive position around the gate.”

“Yeah? Will I now?”

“I don’t give a shit what you do, Shane as long as you ain’t got a gun in your hands.” Rick grabbed Lori’s shoulder firm while locking eyes with Shane.

Shane chuckled. “Whatever you say, brother. Come on, kid. Let’s move these fucking cars then.”

As Shane and Glenn left, Andrea rose from her chair.

“What about me?” she asked.

“Tell the others outside about the decision we made and get their votes. Lori and I’ll do the same with Daryl and Carol,” Rick said.

“Right, okay.” Andrea made for the door.

As Dale and T-Dog crossed the room to follow, Jon joined Rick’s side.

“I’ll go help Shane and Glenn, I can help them form an effective barricade.”

“No, Jon. Stay here, you need treatment.”

“A minor wound. I know more about defences than any of you. They need my help.”

“And they’ll get it once that wound’s been seen to. You ain’t no use if it festers.”

“Hershel or Jenner or whoever can come collect me once they’re done with the boy.”

Lori chuckled. “Don’t think you’re winnin’ this one, Rick.”

Rick sighed. “Fine. But when they come and get you, come back here. If Randall lives, I want you to guard him. Barn’s probably the best place for him ‘till we decide what to do.”

Jon nodded. “Aye, there we agree. Best if we have two guards on him. And two shifts, same as night watch.”

“Okay, tell Andrea she has guard duty with you, then. Maggie and Glenn have second shift.”

“Aye, will do.”

With that, they went their separate ways.

***

Over the course of a few hours, Jon aided Glenn and Shane in constructing some defences. Where the scrap-metal fence flanked the gravel path into the farm, he had Glenn and Shane park the jeep and rangerover. Positioned parallel to the fence, the two vehicles served as protection from potential gunfire. Most gunfire anyway. The problem of more powerful weapons caught Jon in a bind. Shane assured him that a car’s engine could stop a, ‘high-powered round,’ as he called it but, that meant little. If attackers reigned hellfire down on their position behind the cars, it’d render almost all of their cover useless. Only one or two, could huddle behind the saftey of the engine, leaving the rest to perish.

As Jon puzzled over the conundrum, he watched Glenn move the RV. Despite, Jenner’s best efforts, Jon couldn’t make heads or tails of the system of pedals and levers used to control cars. Unnatural and untameable, like wild beasts of steel and rubber, the cars never headed the commands of his feet and hands. Horses, now those made sense. Glenn parked the RV a fair distance away from the farm’s entrance. The gravel path climbed a small, shallow hill to reach the farmhouse. Such height gave an advantage to any marksman, allowing them to peer out over the boundless fields that surrounded the farm.

“That good?” Glenn shouted, parking the RV.

“Move in line with the forward defences. That way any retreats will be as short as possible.” Jon said.

Glenn squinted at the cars then checked over his shoulder for the back of the RV. The RV’s engine purred and the behemoth trundled forward. Meanwhile, Shane lay out boxes of ammo behind the cars. His idea, and a good one. Bullets could not be stored in quiver like arrows. Setting the boxes within arms reach of the defenders seemed to be the only reasonable solution. For all his madness, Shane’s knowledge of guns proved invaluable.

“Stop there, your good,” Rick said. He stood beside Jon, watching Glenn with folded arms. “If we put someone on top of this thing, they’ll be exposed.”

“We’ll use Dale’s table. It shares a length with the RV. Lay it on it’s side and it’ll provide cover from end to end.”

“Any shots’ll pass right through it but, whoever’s behind it can move back and forth between shots, keep ‘em guessin’ where to fire.”

Bullets were troublesome things. Small and fast enough to unseen in the air, and powerful enough to blast right through any conventional shield. They made arrows out to be the toys of children. The hole in Jon’s shoulder ached. The draining of his battle fever had been heralded in by a fanfare of pain. Burning flames danced inside his shoulder, smouldering away without end. Lifting anything enraged them, flaring them like a gust of wind to an inferno. Stabbing needles pricked him where shards of glass had peppered his palms with shallow wounds. He’d ignored it all through his work, carrying guns and ammo to the defences from the house. Not once had he uttered even a grunt of complaint but, as he tried to imagine ways to defend against bullets, his wounds hounded him. His shoulder most of all. A groan escaped his lips, unbidden. If Rick had heard, he showed no sign.

“We should set up some tyre traps on the roads. Pop their tyres and they’ll have to approach on foot. Ain’t nowhere to hide out there, we’ll pick ‘em off easy as that,” Rick said.

“Best we wait ‘till night,” Jon spoke with grit teeth as he resisted the urge to clutch his shoulder. “If they or the dead, come upon us as while we’re laying the traps we’ll be on the back foot and without defence.”

“Daylight gonna change that?”

“No, but an attack from the living during the day is less likely than at night. And the dead are easier to spot in the light. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Glenn parked the RV again. The engine’s purring died and the front lights flickered off. He and Dale hopped out of the front, T-Dog from the back. Dale climbed onto the RV’s roof, leaving T-Dog to take the first sleep shift. Glenn jogged down the gravel path to meet Jon and Rick. When he arrived, he looked at the RV then the cars and nodded to himself.

“Looks good,” he said.

“Aye. Come, help me fetch the long table. We’ll use it for cover for our RV shooters.”

Glenn wrinkled his nose. “That won’t stop bullets.”

“It won’t, but-”

“Jon!”

Hershel appeared on the crest of the small hill beside the RV, accompanied by Beth and Maggie. White cloth bound his ruined hand, bulging around the stumps of his index and middle fingers. A square bandage covered the bullet graze across his temple. Crimson buds blossomed on the surface of both bandages. Gifts from enemy guns. The flames in Jon’s shoulder flared. Clenching his jaw, he looked to Glenn. Glenn gawked at Maggie as if seeing her for the first time.

Wordless, Maggie hurried down the hill and embraced Glenn. Glenn stiffened and then melted into her embrace.

“Were you hit?” he whispered.

“No. Were you?”

“No.” Glenn squeezed her.

Maggie squeezed back. “It’s over now…”

“For now.”

“Jon.” Rick placed a light hand on his good shoulder. “Go get seen to.”

Jon sighed. “Aye, okay. Work on some sort of extra defence against bullets. We need more protection from high-powered rounds.”

“I’ll try. No promises though.”

“You’ll think of something.”

“Remember what I said. Once they’re done with you, you’re on guard duty. I don’t want to see you down here unless we’re under attack.”

“I remember.”

Jon climbed the shallow hill. A glare from Beth greeted him at the top. Their eyes met and she avoided his at once, staring past him at their meager defences. A scowl tightened and sharpened her otherwise, soft features.

“How’s your shoulder?” Hershel asked.

“It hurts no more than it should.”

“How much, one a scale of one to ten?” Hershel squinted at the wound.

Jon shrugged. Pain shot through him, like a flash of lightning, hot and sharp yet, nothing compared to a stab through the heart. “Six, I suppose.”

“And the bleeding? Has it stopped?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Come inside, then. Let’s take a look at you.”

Hershel strode past him and made for the RV. Beth trailed after him, never once looking Jon’s way.

Inside, Jon found Hershel and Beth at the table in the RV’s booth. The pale, overhead light bathed them in murky, yellow light. Beth unpacked Hershel’s medical kid, organising needle and thread, a small set of pliers and some of this world’s bandages. Rather than cloth, they made use of a soft material with a perimeter of adhesive to stick to the skin. How they got them inside the paper packaging, Jon would never understand.

“Does the boy live?” Jon asked.

“Randall survived, yeah,” Beth said.

“And he’ll last the night?”

“Will he? Or are you gonna break open the barn and kill him too?”

“Beth, enough,” Hershel snapped. Dabbing a cotton ball in water with his left hand, Hershel frowned at Jon’s shoulder. “Randall will last the night now, sit down, son. Let’s take a look at you.”

If reason prevails he shall last one night and one night only.

Jon shrugged out his cloak and stripped of his shirt and mail. The bullet had punctured a hole through the shirt and snapped several links of his mail. Without a blacksmith, every bit of damage to his mail may as well be permanent. Jon tried not to think about it as he piled atop his shirt and cloak. Hershel and Beth stared at his chest and its scars with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Old wounds,” Jon said as he sat. He added a small lie, to avoid tedious questions. “I was attacked in the beginning by bandits.”

“You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Aye.”

Hershel tore his eyes away from the old wounds and focused on the new. He got up from his seat and knelt before Jon, inspecting the wound up close. After a moment of head cocking and squinting, he got up and checked the back of Jon’s shoulder.

“Good, it went through.” He handed Beth the cotton ball. “Clean the dried blood off both wounds, front and back. Then, dab it gently around the damaged tissue. Change to a new swab between wounds.”

“I know, daddy. I’ve cleaned wounds before.” Beth cleared away the dried blood caked around the wound with circular scrubbing. Each scrub, sharp and stiff, shot a shock down Jon’s arm and back.

“How are the boy’s odds, do you suppose? Surely his survival, after such a grievous wound is not certain.” Jon asked.

“Beth, gentler.” Hershel shrugged. “The exact odds, I can’t say but, they’re fairly good if he’s been eatin’ proper. He lost a lot of blood but not enough to kill a healthy person.”

Jon watched Hershel’s face as he spoke. Light had returned to his eyes. The same sort of naive hopefulness that plagued Dale and T-Dog.

“He can not stay here,” Jon said. “Remove sentiment from the equation and view things with reason, and it is clear as day. He will harbour hatred for us. We killed his family and tried to kill him. His loyalties will, first and foremost, remain with the little family that remains to him. To keep him here is to ensure he sabotages us. To let him go is to create yet another enemy we must combat.”

Hershel shook his head. “There’s still a chance for peace.”

“A slim chance that we can’t rely-” Jon grunted as Beth pressed a cotton ball hard against the back of Jon’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Randall ain’t likely to thank us for what we’ve done, I know. But, if we get past this conflict, peacefully or not, he deserves a chance to earn our trust.”

“We’re on a blade’s edge, Hershel. A little shove, no matter how small, will destroy what little we have here.”

“So what would have have us do? Execute a child after we saved him because he might betray us? If we start punishin’ people based on what they might do, we lose all sense of law and order. There’s no justice in it.”

“Justice died the day the world did.”

Beth scoffed and threw down the cotton ball. “You’re sick in the head!” She marched out the RV and slammed the door behind her.

“Beth! You get back here!” Hershel shouted.

No response came.

Hershel sighed and picked up a bandage patch with his left hand. “Sorry about her. She’s just frightened, is all.” Hershel held the bandage out to Jon. “Help me open this, would you?”

Jon peeled open the strange paper packaging. Hatred played just as much a part in Beth’s outburst as fear, Jon suspected. He kept his suspicions to himself and handed Hershel the opened bandage. Better not to reopen such fresh wounds. Awkwardly, Hershel placed the bandage over the front of Jon’s shoulder with his left hand and smoothed it over.

“When did the pain start, son?”

“While I was preparing the defences.”

“You didn’t feel any pain at all before then?”

“No. Battle madness, most like. Quite normal after something like that.”

Hershel chuckled and picked up another bandage. “That’s one thing to call it, yeah.” He handed Jon the bandage.

Jon unpeeled it. “What would you call it?” He handed it back.

Hershel stood. “Shock. Pain ain’t the only thing shock numbs. It numbs fear too. Seems to me you’re effected by both.”

“Aye… I suppose.”

“When it hits you, come seek me out if you need. Least I can do after you saved my life.” Hershel applied the bandage to the back of Jon’s shoulder and smoothed it out.

“What do you know of battle madness?”

“I’m a veteran, son. Served in Vietnam as a combat medic when I was only a shy bit older than you.” Hershel sat and picked up the pair of small pliers. “Your hands.”

Jon held out his glass-riddled palms. “You went to war?”

“I did.”

Jon winced as Hershel began plucking shards of glass from his palms. A sharp stab accomanied each removed shard. “If you went to war, why do you hide from the truth about what we face?” Jon asked through grit teeth. “Surely, you of all people know what horrors the boy could bring upon us if we allow him to live.”

“I know about the horrors of war. Plenty some. I’ve seen more than enough for one lifetime.”

***

The barn towered above Jon larger than life, cast in starlight. Where a chain once secured the doors, crates full of gravel took up the duty. Piled high where the doors met, they served well enough, Jon supposed, for a temporary solution.

“Is the back secure?” He asked, approaching the doors.

Stood beside the doors, knife in hand, Andrea nodded. “Yeah, Maggie nailed it shut. If the kid tries to break out that way, we’ll hear him.” Andrea eyed the bandages wrapped around Jon’s palms. “You get shot in the hands as well as the shoulder?”

“Glass shards. The boy’s companions practically blew down the front of the tavern with their machine gun, as you call it.”

Andrea smirked. “Yeah, that’s what it’s called.” As quick as the smirk came, a scowl replaced it. “Can’t believe Rick saved the kid, after he tried to kill you guys.”

“Aye, he should die.”

“Die!” Bloodbeak cried, perched upon the barn’s roof, invisible in the dark.

“Well… before, yeah but, now we’ve gone and spent all those medical supplies saving him. Kinda gotta keep him alive, now.”

“It’d be a waste. But a worthwhile one. The boys will never be our friend, not after we killed his family. He’ll turn traitor first chance he gets.”

Andrea rolled her knife back and forth between her fingers. Her brow furrowed.

“Has he awoken?”

“Nah, Hershel says he’ll sleep for a while, probably.”

“Good.”

For a while, they said nothing else. Stood either side of the barn’s doors, they gazed off into the distance, at the fields and roads, stiff as boards. Jon watched for lights or moving shadows. He listened for roaring engines or the shouts of Dale and T-Dog. He saw nothing but darkness and heard only the boy’s ragged breathing within the barn. Sharp fluttered wheezes. Perpetual, never ending noise.

Andrea sat with a groan, pressing her back against the barn.

“You shouldn’t sit,” Jon said.

“I’m tired.”

“If he breaks out, you’ll waste time getting onto your feet that aught to be spent catching him.”

Andrea sighed and stood. “You owe me a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah, if I have to fight tonight, I’d like my last moments of peace to not be boring.”

“What kind of story do you want?”

“How’d you get the scars on your face?”

“The left, an eagle. The right, a blade.” Jon kept his eyes on the fields.

“An eagle? Now there’s a story.”

“Aye but, will you believe it?”

“I don’t know what I believe nowadays.”

Jon smiled. “Okay, you have your story, then.”

“Awesome.” Andrea settled her back against the barn and looked at Jon, expectant.

“On an expedition into The Lands of Always Winter, I was forced the kill a freefolk man named Orell. As a sentry of sorts, he and his party risked giving away our position to the enemy. Our commander ordered me and another to ambush them. They’d made camp in the overhang of a cliff, you see. So, to reach them, we climbed a sheer cliff of ice and stone without any ropes or climbing axes. When we arrived, we found them sleeping and took the advantage. The man with me, Stonesnake his name was, killed one while I killed another. That man was Orell, a skinchanger, a warg. Someone who can slip into the skin of a bonded animal, or two or three, even five. He’d paired with an eagle and when he died, their spirits became one. Now armed with wings and talons and beak, he sought me out one day. As revenge he tried to gouge my eye out but… a companion of mine stopped him.”

“So… Orell could control the eagle?”

“Aye.”

“And when he died, his consciousness ended up in the eagle and he tried to take your eye out?”

“Aye.”

Jon expected some crude remark, a jest, a smirk, outright laughter. Instead, Andrea scowled.

“Bastard didn’t know when to quit, huh?”

“Well, I did kill him.”

“But you didn’t want to, right? How old were you, anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen.” Andrea scoffed. “You were just doing what you had to. You didn’t hate the guy or anything. It was either you or him. What gives him the right to hate you? He’d do the same in your position.”

“Aye…” Jon gave a careful nod. Andrea sounded far too angry about a man she never met and a story Jon suspected she didn’t truly believe. “Me or him.”

“Him!” Bloodbeak quorked.

***

Jon lay awake, staring at the underside of his tent’s peak. Insects buzzed. The wind whistled. Shadows played on the tent’s blue plastic, toying with him. He should sleep. Should an attack come, even an hour of sleep could mean the difference between life and death. He wanted to sleep. His eyelids weighed heavy. A thick smog lingered over his mind. Yet, every time his eyes closed he’d hear a shout, a snapping twig or a gunshot and lurch for Longclaw only to discover the trick his mind had played on him. Ghost lay awake also, staring at him. When he lurched, Ghost stayed where he lay, staring, unblinking. Those two, unwavering red discs provided him with solace, breathing warm calm over his racing heart.

Jon sat up slowly. “Come, boy. Let’s stop this folly.”

Ghost blinked. He rose, stretched his front legs then back, and padded out of tent. Jon secured Longclaw and Needle to his belt, and followed after him. The great scar of Georgia’s night sky provided meager light. His eyes had adjusted all the same so, Jon scanned the woods, the fence and fields. A motionless void stared back at him. Glenn and Maggie stood guard outside the barn. T-dog watched the fields, atop the RV. Without the moon and only strange stars, judging the time of night proved fruitless. Jon assumed midnight had passed but, fear often exaggerated time’s passage. It was fear he felt, he saw no sense in denying it. Only boys thought themselves fearless. Fear sharpens the senses when channelled properly. For all the good it did him. The weapons of this world could end a life in an instant from a distance beyond the sight of men, or the hearing of wolves – bolts of lighting made steel. Jon hurried across the field for the house.

Jon took care to not allow the door to creak as he entered the house. Golden lamplight spilled beneath the door to Carl’s room, painting golden streaks across Ghost’s white fur. Whispers drifted from within, across the living room and to Jon’s ears, unbidden.

“How can you be sure?” Lori whispered.

“My gut, that’s how,” Rick answered.

“But… the things he did- I mean, you saw the way he looked.”

“He’s only a kid.”

“A dangerous kid. You know that. You do. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Stop…”

“No, he-”

“I mean it,” Rick snapped. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

An edged silence lingered. Jon allowed himself a smile. Of all the people he expected support from, he’d never imagined Lori. To place truth and reason over loyalty spoke of a rare, invaluable strength. Jon left the couple to their edged silence and made his way upstairs. A little twinge of hope lightened his steps, if only a fraction. The door to Sophia’s room waited for him at the end of the hall, containing his burden. His actions had lost Sophia her life, he’d sentenced her to death. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword and look into the eyes of the condemned, see their tears, hear their last words. He could not pass the sentence himself, illness would claim that right. He could not see Sophia’s tears for she had none left to weep. He could not hear Sophia’s final words for she had none left to speak. But, he could look into her eyes. He could try and offer comfort to Carol, futile as it be. Jon took a deep breath and placed a hand on Ghost’s head, centring himself. He approached the door, ready to knock.

“Who is it?” Carol asked before he could knock, barely above a whisper.

“Jon. May I enter?”

“Yes.”

Jon opened the door. Ghost squeezed through it as it opened. Inside, Jon found him sat on his haunches at the foot of the bed, staring at Sophia with a red, unblinking gaze. Daryl slept in a chair beside Carol, clutching a make-shift bolt. His sharp snores mixed with Sophia’s soft wheezes.

Carol frowned at Jon. A knife sat on the bedside table, within reach, beside Sophia’s pink bear. “Are we under attack?” she asked.

“Oh, no. I just… may I watch over her with you?”

Carol’s frown softened to a smile. “You can but, I’m afraid you’ll have to sit on the floor. All the seats are taken. And don’t mind the open window, the night it… before all this… it always gave me comfort. I liked to believe that when the sky was at its darkest, God’s eyes were at their sharpest and his angles at their most vigilant. It gave me… comfort and… strength.”

“That’s fine.” Jon gestured to Sophia. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Jon stood over Sophia and drank in her face. If hair be straw, straw pooled around her head. If skin be leather, leather clung to her skull. If eyes be stones, two pale stones stared through him. Her pale gaze etched itself upon his mind, like a chisel to a tablet. Jon knelt, removed his gloves and took her tiny hand into his. Her icy touch chilled him to the bone. He offered no apology, no prayers, no tears. Instead, he stared for as long as it took so her image would never fade from his memory. Carol watched him all the while, never interrupting, only speaking once he’d finished.

“She’s going to die.” Carol spoke with a steady voice. “You know it too, don’t you?”

“I do. Soon, I think. A day. Two if she’s fortunate.”

“No… if she’d been fortunate she’d have died sooner. She’s lingered for too long.”

“Do you believe something awaits her after death?”

“I’d like to. Maybe, in a different time, I would.”

“Then isn’t every second of extra life worth lingering for?”

“That’s no life, Jon. She’s just waiting, is all. Not suffering, just waiting. It’s us that’re doing the suffering.” She sighed and glanced at Daryl. “He still blames you, you know, deep down? That damn, male ego. It don’t let you see things as they are.”

“He should blame me, it was my fault.”

“Is that why you came here, to atone?”

“No. I came to be present. If tonight we persevere, I intend to visit everyday for as many days remain for her. So that I may be by her side on her final day.”

Carol sighed. “You’re more man than boy, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Well, for tonight, I need you to be a boy. See things clearly, Jon.”

“I…” Carol’s words made no sense. “I do see things clearly.”

“Good. Then please, don’t make a scene. Everyone’s on edge as it is.”

Before Jon had a moment to process her words, Carol plucked her knife off of the bedside table and eased the blade through Sophia’s temple.

[libidomechanica]

“To favour lose all, and many deathes full Easter”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

And maids arranged along, like honey Bee, working her so well express explicitly our several posts, my friend. About the fatal shore! Thus, in a curse. Or is the witness Corahs place forsooke, but be no longer flow of your willow-bough, distinguished by the day I wrote down. Yet, if thou dost stay! To favour lose all, and many deathes full Easter. In her neck did crawl, and shot of every pangs. Done but in the dead?

               2

But Fortune deal, rolled above. To lead my life, and Gills and far better parts; they view’d such taking, for nothing upon earth and Honour won, all proper less; On a sudden thee; that oppressed with sighes her form they ever be; I will keep their Delhis manna pick’d from me where the dove without my Leave me from shape, and the Past. Can strange, the freshness of the low: for Soveraign power supplies: no Court he practices turtle.

               3

Resembling heart of Ida: they punish a Body which your pains may only made to sit. Sweet voices of a night-fowl crow: the clouds to heare, may show the flower and so we forged a secret oar and faded marigolds, fell sleek about their memory kept alive, and where be lou’d by me, an exil’d mortal lair, seeing, blessings indeed. He heard, the horse louder, and her mind is pure. In the Court remov’d: then day resign.

               4

To be a butchery, to serve the pine- grown Latmian listen to each one looked rare with blood and stumbling the souls in its benumbing round her forever, because I take my branches sway, thrugh you know no such a mourning prayses yet burn through the crowd, and looking back to the coming stony helm, and the obscene. Heroes—and suck for Nutriment throw, entering time; for Priests the magistrate Vulgar, passes o’r, and mistakes.

               5

Thou shalt not broken? Just stand; and thus whispering bid me fear; above this post, I may in terms of the linnets I with souls resolved so. Demands a man; love taught Jerusalem, Shimei was all ruby ring the glenne: so now fayre eyes I neuer shall dwell; only true mistresses trim her demeanors motion, as Mars in this reverend gentle greet with poetic voice reverberates in my verse could I then but she sente me.

               6

His Frame coud bear: had God or Devil. Until The Sage behold, that foreign churches— I see her sandal, amber, ancient Honour and forest told it in the minstrels, and glowing then, to Alienate the daylight who plann’d alone, and leave me not vex, with sails decline and live! Or how can we write good words, nor hast thought: she liked an error like the sons of steel us as they had left alone for to their vessels side by side.

               7

The slain, with dewy locks, and camp saluted with sword decided to get through his course as Samuel used to think one Sheaf did bide: till China and Africa meet, and mouldering at their vessel strongly it repayre. You thumbed, thrust, patted and drizling dross the man lounges two steps down in Russian story: all injustice thunderer’s beard; where no means had been bless you with turrets crown’d with ioy to sorrow sped life’s far awa.

               8

How can you were wound there vnseene, thought t’embroil the same face, nor dares resist. Bene the sky, and the multitudinous billows murmured, sown with golden shield of asphodel, the fool confined; rude work boots. A Vitious Youth, by the thundered at me moved the flower and then lets you shalt—as now. Lo! As I walked out lykewise I have mark’d each big approached; if force me liue and meeknesse greater glory! Storm and chaunge of weapons fly.

               9

I was abandoned. And then my tears must not be so: for who was left bank, with decorous sneer, point of a birth require; prevent, that he fashion to Reb ell. And, whence it was the should grow light-headed, I fear, if thou dost thou hast but with necks stretching from dawn to the poor mans wealthy, with him, whose star, that look on the lost it for Rebellion may know all things I never Ceases to bend, which ripen’d Eden’s fruit; for war.

               10

You are mirror’d shields, far-piercing eye, robert Burns: there he turn’d on all her blow, have ye e’er light his Darling, my darkling eye, robert Burns: know it. My earth haue fedd. Like a Miss America Contest. I sleep he lay, If it be quick sharp enough to cure thy fountain stood prepared of seeming Friends disguised in a yeelded pray: yet euen whylst her wayes this shalt be, art, alone. Thy fancies wonderment. Whiles to beare onward it flies.

               11

Not mine a little storme beaten hart likewise art lyttle made, was liberties a spoil with hints of the grounds to their head, ye roses blaw in ilka beild! More fayre Elisa be your fruitfull Issue shall cling there nought but brakes and rules by bringing That ole Ace down, th’ admiring Croud his fond game, but ioy her thrives: save wed alone, the Scrificers of theyr trew obiect, the Russians now wept his own accord, and your throne?

               12

May never know how those will to see the waters at distance should not be account I one must for you The Dells tell of day arising from it preachers say the street stall. Thy pure affections the summers exalt thee to the people, like linnets in the Mouldy rolls of the dews were in his grave never heard her choicest virgins bene, to adorne; the cliffs of Rhodes the third is neither loved but in your worth a potato.

               13

Feeling buds, as if in your bosome lyke but vnto her even now! Listen to bless you with the love where you beside; furthermore, I will my mind, resolve on Death, or Conquest, as if it will breath; and drew the men mourners, weep again! In all they Covet makes dayly such a beauties grace? To me this posture on the other turning vessel they lead to-morrow today when from faults with the town ditch below while their attend.

               14

Our Ark. So sad, so melancholy thunders roll, the fight recedes and the year; the Law forbore, were clawing out, mighty storm; the scorns the links of other better soundes so sweet exprest, her plump round him as forfeit faith and sing all this Numerous Progeny was none sees him an Appendix of my mother country; and all the living men at the perorations standing on the heat of her loue, when upon the plast.

               15

Been one explain it. What is it her neste: howe haue the dove, but by his trick to poison— oh! And sighs, and earn our flocks as brooms, we did offence be known, since we leaves her tenderest proudly disobayes, and hue, together. Tossing flowers,—sighing world, by the herded elephants; nor was at least: there was endeavour this Advice above the stormy Cymon was now his blude it is to please her, none. Severe before abhorred.

               16

And you’re not so high thoghts more than I can seuer. I shudder in the dust of dark and mourn them thus; thou canst vouchsafe the virgin light foot shone so rich old lord, and shook my heaven: other pat me frae her Dearie! His tread was Hesperean; to his Hearts. Through the Mark: for as their Enemies, his Frame, unwarily did most Rabbis Jewish Markets of changed, or like the house; but represent— these thought o’er the pearles and fox-terriers.

               17

And the more, the peak of the burrows of the bride with vases, to pant through hidden long Procession! The bowre with silvery gauze; yea, or my offended majesty, and the shopping teares the severe chilled albatross’s white curtain of the port: if they Crack’d the blushed amazed, as meanes shall not, but don’t bring you serve? Of his spent, a mind at please; he rode all unarm’d, and Litter from a night urge the occasion to us.

               18

The lake behight, though in the punishment. Five other thick films and my breast for stone, he stept, there was like his, a mute and uncomplain how far I toil, the first was as probably to be dress’d up, for then away, and play, and ensanguinity it bears— this tree. Darling and with a second near thy heart can tell his paces back rebounds. I never think of me and I will dare to plunge in th’ other passions warreid arre.

               19

All injustice I may find the crack in themselves to be a butcher in her e’re. Three bands can those lips, and wide, I calmly flows the liquefaction of the North.—Great joy unto the badg which there a group of girls in circles moved. Once, as all ruby ring upon myself and grow light forth from us and Crude. Cats a pain like the mouth at this most ornament. By the universal Call, to whisperer disturb the goddess!

               20

Had eyes brow-hidden, entered; found in hand did make theyr bayts doe hyde: so she did again! It lifts a young fellows,—o dreary, he cometh not, she said, you push and guard the tremulous-dazzling dross the less, had half impair’d flaws in former chronicle; and, sitting outside that fills three stools away likewise you were many thing, or bell at closing day. Meet mass’d in such an one. Crossed the last one, you will. From sea plains where she came.

               21

The one which thereof immortal wrongs his old Instrument. Then faded, and fear i’ll clear song is heard the morrows? As if, athirst found, when tyrant! Mine appetite I never and to shake hands that is the kindly season scanned, and, o’er they march, a blush? In the west, the power could make me a heaven, in azure hue, ready to attack? Blight the goal of Honour blest, by new unfolding me again; around, they Curst Return.

               22

Taught me stare, and duty to a Lawfull many a stroked my body shall the ba’, the youngest’s boat and then fair, so from presence. Spirits Bold, and died; and Cowslips, and teach us how to switch #1 with #3. Stones were as probably to be attack; or like Ormisda stood, engirt with souls might; where airy voice, he had his pale light is dreadfull stormes with their late dismay’d, within him stars to force were o’ergone, and the same full choir cries, Joy!

               23

Those smyling looked like as many girls—sick for Nutriment then, that we two will sail before the maidens whisper, tender Lambes and brightness, my impassions weighd with wives. With shivered fair Orithea, whose ugly Scars, that makes me so divine sufficiencies these sad plights light thy widowhood, who fears before and she loved the obiect of time is heap’d Affronts have cost you. The insomniac … She could be. Draw in your distressed.

               24

She wondered well, the Bad, turn Rebell, and grows on thy mothers bore thy comfort in his head she lay sick once, with altered Cymon was not a thirst for she-society. Lie, fisted like a ballistic mind. Love ere he a Tyrant and dangerous train, and kissing lists of much rent, for compound sweet on a gloom of branches that when i hate i look at length prevail: and summoned to trace of that didst brings peace a charnel-roof!

               25

’Tis so, tis to Rule, for well of day, for out of him, but of Power, because I knew ye not? Sweet and provide; already we rock each other’s mind. Now the foe: the seer. Next the morne, the conscious villain fears, nor the mattock-harden’d hand, but greedinesse hunts after than like a Jugler comes. The liquefaction which stare aghast thou of me and fatal day approaches, that green-painted in a clench of callous and naiads fair.

               26

As this tree, in notes appear; and saw but soon the principal: smooth pure and veil’d Destin’d for sense; yet in his den was said the blazon of sweeter than like, but growest in one to my touch even heroes slain; I saw him, I’ll love you, love. Lifts up his furrowes eld hath not these to look at length descried in the loue what still together, giving gently encage, that their king, in sight of tears of two Ifs in one explain it.

               27

Beyond most fit deuize, still lords its strength awaken’d from Stella I describes, since Ariadne was a flowering tire by telling honey-thick stain that able spreads apace and long the approaches, that made the fuller day. Was it this? A prophecy: The present all: and, stand at them; and the smart. Adieu delight; because I take my powres of Grievances, two names, grew side by side; and on calming thy grace affright!

               28

The thin Disguises of the strand of the lodging in a wintry wind blows to informer! Where the invisible cord. To our foreheads felt his part. But where Desolation of your watry bowres, that lightnings as they haue powre dicerne. Amid the shadows grim. Wits warrior’s speechless burning taught in silent deep dost fly: if thou die before to bear—but when the time, when beauty still to start, but which I should faire, full o’ care.

               29

, For many a woodlander—pass’d to body, laid in Dante’s verse, than by the leaves me no Pretence, proclaim; his Loyalty express’d up, for this my lover&for any being caught in gallant like raging to the rose in an amber cloudy grief returne. Yielding not, what every woman flicks the third—the authentic foundress your Sacred Life each other’s holiday or holinight of cloudless climes and whose Youth return’d.

               30

I see Calliope speede her than the clay aflow immortall hye. And then thirst to yeeld my selfe with graceful ornament of wit: restless, unfixt in Prague sign their trance too; so much rent, for more in Heaven’s gate; for nimble, and move likes them all, which, like the fruite of space are lovers love me— wilt thou? But did stands possess’d, desiring the Charming Chloe—from peaceful Actions for themselves so many, multiply’d his Cause.

               31

For more I fynd, the lounges two sturdy stoures. Beside that souerayne beauty’s best, of hands the wall, as parts, now Momus; and high fantastic round the brave many a less achievable by slow approaching, which your names from Thames, our care. And all the rest me, for fear of futurity; then, lordings, which may be told? Dark is dripping, among the appointment of Clay. No one hand, and slake, in trump of fame blaze of moonlight lone.

               32

Where my soul knows, maybe the horns of Elfland fair; but for aid, confused looking the gallantly as ever. He woud Expose, to Physick their crimes enjoy a sudden springs! Would Curb my Spiritual, are always open quite, the palace in twenty Years, their sweet-scented be: the weary yeares ioy forth too much ease, in peace should for a moment, the name of Dulness, as e’er scoff’d high against her wind Lost Angels blesse my dear.

               33

At sighes, and he’s dozin, his blude it is not those archers close awayt to catch her took a willow-bough, distinguish to heav’nly bosome lyke as their attends thee safely may as well, and deformd it were joined: two brother home, and you, and benefit of rest? All-confessed she rather to gazette of space are we, and be safe, because to beare onward, and thee to take effect but like Visionary flight. High with silent.

               34

And wreath no great triumph; here she fell and motion me t’approve him, and studied quick reliefe vayne man to trim their wonted worse, the shame which when he fastened all that’s your sighing, said, on that place where you still to heare. To steep a quill immortally: and now a luggage boy but something their tongue, what now of all my hopeless streams that I can comfort me, but that nought by night, ne your selfe assurance need not for her dangerous.

               35

Force from the immortal eyes that men o’er chaos: and at the appalling dross the fear of sleep, death, descent, the magistrate his mintage the meadow kit foxes crave their anchor’d at its station: but, Alas! To batteries erected from his tongue aspire? To thralls her cool brow to put a power of the wall, and listening valleys hear; all our best sight where all day did flie: for summer time they who when men Aspire, tis time.

               36

And Moses, who feed his former height, perhaps his cold hopes do cary.—Who by no meane loues a lady’s love; or if he hath no misfortune but two Turkish fire, but for it! Till it proves in Factious Croud to joyn: the burning bed—that Maud’s dark foldings thrown on her: for the publick Love; zuhrah, he said, so puddled as he laye, and scatter from the arrow strike with studied quick footsteps told, wett, and duty to Imperiall sway.

               37

Stood ready make, but Diane beast so fayre is but unknown, in my young Lochinvar. Then this islands, and garments to fade. Whether to speake; and being with penance, that every moments when it rubs across him and humble; in the next trees turned into niches old. And nights, the heroic bosom move? And, from these fields the tints their vessels side by side; and I myself the streets, staircases, was in his Cup, he quaff’d off the woods.

               38

When like committed linnet, aft wandering; now Mars, now Momus; and thou suborn our prison forth with expectation dar’d to come backward corners of its love has buoyed me up till my armes I took that with a sound, the leaves on the holy ayde, with rust, scarred with girland crouned. Make peace with a hinge. Become as one sense it is, why fear we to her All hayle, my mother comes, like lark over his pain, or shall the course.

               39

And he had known: often with her lanely nights, which she fills with Foes? Why not for ever feel that bloody race, with fixed on her: for these succeed the features goodly giftes of some starry dew and pierce than hath he defies, but large, case-mated one. Ere the twelfth fairy, her back. To the applause of it: with Psyche was the rest made it strongly recommend wise Issachar, his hand doth raine. And ivy dun round flowers felt.

               40

And I distilling his maxims, which loose wynd ye wauing chair to feign his death, desire; they who never a hall succeeded in ordering in one band hastes to be too hard it flies. Whether in equall sorted with cloudes han all the hearth-flowers every moment’s allow’d to tears; odour, to sigh, with their malice with friends, and sisters say white folks with debt: for health to forsake, hung halfe tremble thrown: this young Chevalier.

               41

Resigns the long lack’d, to honor of your stave. Or some their strength can join the place high: strong with them: we touch’d on truth we shudder— gentle wilfull pryde, all earthly thing the sway of your peculiar mouth at this large and crystal. To that rage had pass’d, even to guide a Throne, and they brought forth the sandhills of the Abbey: there was a Levites Headed the close shrowded in a greatest king call the Israel’s monarch, after may remoue.

               42

Ease, more slow in thighs, Nor let me be copartner of that for my excuse what else both are old, in which knows the present tale is, all the waiting, afire, what kind of eraser and human race, no mortal tear-drops down on the means were seen, but free, oh, how deep. Ne none sees him still affirms your distress, in public wealth, and ah, how the arm’d river, the learne; thinke to enuy or admyre: and so clearer then most it for Reign?

               43

And raw in your breath from the linnet’s note! Oh, weep for Adonais! One touch’d on thy stores’ account, for for very soon may be proud now thou dost fly: if thou return’d. And mourn our pride: till greater meede at last Tuesday a certainty and far, I am happy, by common men, but how comes of pure and her may surcease: ne thine aged top, and think how they for Mahomet or Mufti, unless t is a passing, came again.

[ponyway]

What overly long, vivid dream.

I was... Somewhere, going to visit mom. In a bus. In the bus I met two homeless dudes whose friend I had helped earlier in the previous dream I don’t remember. They had their musical intruments with them and we sung a cheery song, after which they asked about the social services in the area. I said I was just passing by and didn’t know much. I asked if their friend was ok, seeing as he’s not with them. They said he had found a job, tough manual labor but still better than being a hobo. They got out the next stop and I bid them farewell.

I got out at some city centre, went to grab a bit from a cafeteria. I took out my purse, overfilled with coins so I thought I better get rid of some and pay with cash. But for some reason, I couldn’t find the exact change. I had plenty of coins, but only half of them were euros, some were argentanian pesos, some entirely from a different planet. “The life of a traveller, huh?” I said, trying to cheer up the mood. It didn’t work, the line was getting longer and the cashier grew more impatient, so I paid it with my card.

I ate and took a long at google maps. Turns out, I had taken the wrong bus and now I was in Lapland, near the Russian border. I mapped a new route, that would’ve taken quite a few hours according to google. I was getting a bit weary and was afraid I’d just fall asleep, missing my stop, so I started walking to find a place with no prying eyes where I can use my more quicker travelling method... My teleporting device.

I don’t know if you knew this, but teleporting devices are highly illegal and almost impossible to find. You’d be caught the instant you popped into existance or disappeared in front of a crowd so you must teleport with care. This is why the device looks like an amalgam of pocket watch and a tamagotchi. I don’t what alien technology resides in it, all I know it’s simple to use, fits in your pocket and doesn’t require batteries. There are knobs like those of a pocket watch you need to hold, Then you just conjure the image of the destination you want to be teleported to and hit the switch. You’ll feel dizzy as the world starts spinning around you and you’ll feel like have just been shot out from a cannon. This is normal, as your brain is not equipped to deal with the loss of time and space. It only lasts a few seconds, no matter what the distance and you should be safely in your destination. As long as you keep your hand over those knobs. The machine reads your brainwaves for the destination through your hands and the knobs and if that connection is broken mid-travel, well... Something will happen, perhaps you get stuck in the place in-between.

Anyway, as I was looking for a space to disppear in, I took this path that I hoped would take me into a forest trail, I met this sheep. A ram that had somehow jumped over the fence to freedom. He was very friendly and I stopped to play with him and rub his wool. I was afraid he’d buck me, but he didn’t. I took off, found a good spot, reached for my pockets and...  Yep, it finally happened. I had left my most valuable possession at home.

Without the device my options were slim. However, I had this teleportation app in my phone that I never used. I knew it was shitty as Tumblr Mobile and most probably dangerous to use. I did it anyway and soon was engulfed by the familiar dizziness. When I came to, I was... Still in the same place, maybe a few steps away. App was indeed shit.

The sun was setting and it was too late to walk back so I decided to keep on walking. I came across this spooky villa that had two goths, father and son, pale as sunlight. The goths told me they’re vampires, showing their fangs. I pointed out those fangs look like plastic. Oh no, the son assured, look how well I can bite with these! He bit his own finger than already had two holes to begin with. He had similar marks on his other hand, so i asked shouldn’t a vampire have only one pair of teeth marks when they were turned. He told me he had bitten himself to make it match.

Yeah, ok, I decided to not to argue with the wannabe vampires and asked them for help. The father told me he can give me a lift, not all the way home of course because “that’d be too expensive”, but at least to the right direction. I looked up and... The sky did not look right. Way too many moons and that sheep I petted earlier? It was now flying through the sky like a superman.

At this point I realized the app didn’t send me through time and space, but through realities. I was in alternate dimension and from the looks of it, far away from my own home dimension. The more different things seem, the father away you are. Now I was truly lost... But I took Sir Vampire’s offer.

Aand.. That’s where the dream ended.

[friendly-alien-fucker]

Hello! If it's not much of a bother could I ask a hc for yautja s/o being short and having no sense of direction therefore getting lost all the time even if they just walk five steps fowards, thank you a lot :)

Yautja with an s/o who gets lost easily

Warnings: none

Thanks sm for the request, @weirdo-shit ! I hope I met your expectations! 💖

(also this very relatable as I also have absolutely no sense of direction :'D)

________________________________________

• Will think you're joking

"Why are you so late, little mate? What do you mean you got lost?? Your room's like two turns away!"

They'll be confused as to why you keep walking in the wrong directions. At first they think you're doing it on purpose, often misunderstanding your strange sense of humor for something serious, but the more time they spend with you, the more they realize that you're just like this. Something they have no pleasure in finding out.

• Very Concerned

Humans are small, you are small, and the ship is very big and has many halls in which you could get lost in. And many of their crewmates aren't very ooman-friendly, and may harm you if you bump into them while your mate's not around. Not that they'd live to boast about it.

• Will follow you around

They already try to spend as much time with you as possible, and now they finally had an excuse to do it even more. After all, who would be a better guide than them? Wether it's a trip from the ship to your favorite earth city, or your trip from your room to theirs, they would be there to make sure you make it there safely. Will also insist you hold their hand as they do so.

*cough* they absolutely don't do this to show off to other yautja either *cough*

• Will suggest a tracking device

"It's only logical, little mate! This was I will be able to always see where you are! Plus it's not even that obvious! Wha- c'mon at least hear what I have to say!"

Sometimes persistence can bring you very far, but this is not one of these times. The more they explained the sophisticated piece of technology to you, the less willing you were to wear it, feeling it would invade your privacy too much, even if your mate was the only one with access to it.

• Will get a yautja hound with the sole purpose of finding you

I realize a lot of their solutions are getting a hound, but they're just so handy! Having great sniffers, they are able to find you in a crowd of hundreds, and they're smart enough to bring you safely back to their owner, earning numerous belly-scratches and head-pats for afterwards. They're also a lot stronger than most earth pets, and capable to successfully defend you should the need arise.

• They think it's cute

As worried as they are for your safety, they also think this trait of yours is incredibly endearing. You're just so different from them. Whilst they navigate easily through dense forests and strange buildings, you struggle to follow simple directions. Where they have to duck to reach, you have to stand on your tip-toes. But despite your many differences, these little quirks only make you more lovable in their eyes. What can they say? Differences attract. Even- especially- among aliens.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Palliate.

Pairing: Yandere!Witch/Reader.

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Amnesia, Obsessive Mindsets, Mentions of Violence, Blood and Bruising, Mentions of Death.

Mint, to settle your nerves.

That was the first thing he’d taught you, before you were strong enough to do anything more than sit on the edge of your bed and listen. Three leaves if you were desperate, two if you weren’t, and one if you just needed something to focus on, to take your mind off your own hazy thoughts and the places they tended to lead, when you let them wander freely. He said that was normal, that it should be expected. You’d spent so long incapacitated, it was only natural you’d be a little unsteady, once you finally got back on your feet. He said that it’d get better, over time, but you’d have to fight through it. You’d have to give yourself time to let it get better, even if there were little things you both could do to help.

The mint helped. Most of the time, at least. More than most little things did.

You tried to concentrate on the flavor, now, letting it distract you from the sun beating down on the back of your neck, from small bruises forming on your knees as you kneeled between rows of rue and sage and rosemary just far enough apart to let you tug at the weeds invading his otherwise pristine garden. It was a little odd to be outside the small cottage you’d become so closely acquainted with, even if you were only a few paces away, still hesitant to venture beyond the clearing you’d spent so much time observing while you were bedridden. You were still injured, technically, and you’d been told time and time again not to test your own limits. He said you should… You were sure you should be doing something, but—

“Didn't I ask you to rest?”

Right. That made sense.

You weren't supposed to get out of bed, just yet.

A hand came to settle on your shoulder, and reflexively, you glanced towards the man now lingering behind you. You really didn’t need to, though. His voice would’ve been enough, a calm drawl strung out into something playful, fondness coming easily and anger still a long ways off. He’d never gotten mad at you before, but the threat persisted. You didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than absolutely necessary, especially after he’d been so kind to you.

“There’s only so much sleep I can take,” You replied. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in bed, either. “I’m starting to think that’s your only trick, uh...”

“Eden, love. Just Eden.” There was a pause, his sly smile turning sympathetic. “Is your memory acting up again?”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.” You were telling the truth. For weeks, you’d barely been able to hold onto your own name, let alone anything about your eternally patient host. But, Eden (you tried to remind yourself of that, to make a note of it, Eden) was kind enough to give you time. You needed time. You needed patience. “I found the door, didn’t I?”

“And it’s nearly been a week since the last time you wandered into the forest,” He noted as he crouched at your side, earning a small, offended noise and an elbow to his bicep, just forceful enough to warrant a hum, a slight pout, something between a whine and a chuckle. You didn’t want to stare, but you let yourself watch as his expression softened, as his gazed flickered towards the sprout of basil at your feet and a shock of white hair fell over his eyes. He looked like he was going to reach towards you, like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself, letting his hand slip down to the satchel at his waist, instead, calloused fingers running over the well-worn leather.

You wondered what he kept in it, sometimes. You’d never seen him without it, not willingly, and he spent so long in the forest every day, he kept himself so busy with so many traps and snares and spots of ink littered across hand-drawn maps, it would’ve been impossibly to guess what he thought was worth keeping by his side. He brought enough of it back, bundles of assorted feathers and glass jars full of golden pollen and other things, stranger things, things you could barely catch a glimpse of before they were shoved to the backs of cabinets and forgotten about, on your end, at least. Eden didn’t forget about such important things as quickly as you did.

“It’ll get better,” He went on, finally, just when you thought he’d stopped talking altogether. “And, if it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it better.”

He sounded so sure of himself. You wanted to believe him, when he sounded like that. You did believe him.

You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t.

~

Ginger, to alleviate migraines.

It wasn’t for you, luckily. Of all the ailments you suffered from, you’d been left mercifully exempt from headaches and vertigo and all those minor, awful things that would make your life just a little harder than it had to be. If anything, your head was always a little too light, a little too empty, especially after so many hours of following the same unpaved road with nothing to think about but the passing scenery and Eden’s vague instructions, little more than a list of names and goods. Little to go off of, despite his insistence that you be the one to go.

You’d asked why he didn’t just go himself the first time he sent you on your way with a basket of herbs and roots, but Eden had only frowned, shaking his head. He said he wasn’t welcome, not in the marketplace, not in a village that’d already come to know him by name. He said that, if you cared for him at all, you wouldn’t subject him to a full day of haggling in hushed tones with women who refuse to sell mediocre incense for anything less than a small fortune.

And since you did (foolishly) care for him, you went. Not that you were anymore wanted in the marketplace than he was.

You hated it, compared to the cozy isolation of Eden’s home. You hated how crowded it was, how alien it felt to have to navigate the cramped stalls, how the merchant in front of you scowled as he weighed small bags of the exotic, colorful spices Eden was so fond of, the ones that you could never seem to taste the way you were supposed to, judgingly by how liberally Eden used them. He didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke, aged weariness mixed with a self-righteous reluctant. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t used to it, that constant trepidation from people who didn't understand you, from people who didn't care for Eden. At least he was kind enough not to hide it. “Running errands for the witch hermit, again?”

“Eden’s not a hermit.” You tried to smile, to brush it off as if was just another misconception. He wasn’t. You weren’t sure what he was, but he liked people, he liked having someone else around. Or, he liked having you around, at least. He didn’t seem to care much about company, beyond that. “He just enjoys his privacy. We both do.”

“Only a witch, then.” There was a pause, a gruff laugh that didn’t match his grim disposition. Something in the back of your throat tightened, and silently, you wished he’d be a bit more wary of you. Just enough to keep him from speaking so openly. “I’d take what you can and go, if I were you. He takes after his father, and that man spent his whole life makin’ a monster of himself, playing with things no one should. His son ain’t much different.”

It was your turn to laugh, now. “He cries whenever he finds fawns separated from their mothers. He takes in tadpoles he finds puddles. I don’t think Eden is capable of cruelty.” He was a kind man. You’d never seen him be anything but kind. If he had an ulterior motive, if he had a single sadistic bone in his body, you had yet to find it. “He took me in, too, when I was injured. He might be the only reason I have a roof over my head, now. That’s not a kindness I can say very many people have showed me.”

His lips pursed, the barest hints of confusion crossing his expression. It was gone in an instant, and you tried not to linger on it. He thought poorly of Eden, but the mere fact that you were alive – walking and breathing and alive – was enough to earn him your gratitude. Regardless of what a merchant and a marketplace worth of gossip thought. You knew what you believed, you knew what was true, and you wouldn’t let a few rumors convince you otherwise.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that belief didn’t waver, as he went on. “Cruelty isn’t all you have to worry about.”

You opened your mouth. Then, you closed it again, keeping your eyes on the basket still hanging limply on your arm. He wasn’t done yet, not with the spices, not with his poorly veiled warnings, but you didn’t want to listen. You could listen, you would listen, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to believe anything you heard in such a crowded place, in such an awful place.

You just wanted to get back to Eden.

~

Willow bark, to take the pain away.

It’s more of a comfort than a necessity, by now. You used to need it, rely on it, and you still liked to keep a bundle nearby, just in case, for days where the soreness was worse than it should be and you needed something to take the edge off, to suppress that overwhelming ache back into a steady throb. But, you never needed it, not like you used to. Not like you had when your injury was a defining feature rather than an afterthought and Eden’s medical expertise was more of a experimental artform than a practiced skill.

His hands didn’t shake, anymore, as his fingers skirted over your bare skin, following along the outline of your wound, the trail of stitches that stretched from the bottom of your shoulder bone to the center of your rib cage and repeated itself, carrying over again and again and again, forming neat rows of tender flesh and scar tissue that refused to stop any higher than your hip bone. He wasn’t hesitant, not with the needle, not as he pushed it through the long-suffering spots where he’d first messily laid your stitches months ago, and he didn’t have to look at you to recognize the way you shifted, the soft string of expletives you let out, to notice your little attempts to turn your head at just the right angle, flinch at just the right time to—

“Eyes on the ceiling,” He demanded. With a small huff, you obeyed, turning back towards the furthest wall. “It’ll only get worse, if you look.”

You knew that. He’d said as much as thousand times before, once for every day he'd tended to your lasting wounds. You were tempted to try, to insist it was only fair that you got to know what was going on with your own body, but you trusted Eden, and it was easier to tilt your head back than to argue, to search the cluttered room for something more interesting than the boy sitting at your side and your own, nagging discomfort.

You were in his workshop, now, an area separated from the rest of the cottage and filled to the brim with the tools of Eden’s trade – blooming flowers permanently encased in blocks of amber, the shells of insects hollowed out and ground into a fine powder, pots, everywhere, some empty and some not, the largest placed over a smoldering hearth that never seemed to grow dimmer, despite how often Eden forgot to tend to it. There was something inside, a substance you didn’t recognize, bubbling and black as a starless sky. It was already solidifying around the edges of its cauldron, crystallizing into rows of jagged, silvery edges slowly creeping along the coaction's surface like an infection. Like a parasite. Like something that shouldn’t have existed but continued to, regardless.

Eden must’ve caught you staring. The needle stilled, and instead, he took to dabbing something cool and smooth around the edges of your scars. A rag, or a balm, or a dozen other possible remedies. You didn't try to look. “It’s for you,” He explained, as if that made it any better. “One of my father’s incomplete recipes. He never figured out how to stop it from hardening once it’s exposed to open air.” Eden clicked his tongue, pulling the thread he was working with taut, and you cringed, tying to ignore the slight pinch. It didn’t hurt, not really, not like it used to. It didn’t hurt at all, if you were being honest, but it felt like it should’ve. “The color isn’t right, either. And I’ve already fed enough dye into the damn thing to poison a small village.”

You should’ve laughed. You wanted to, you knew it was the reaction he was looking for, but it was all you could do to avert your stare, to let your fingers curl around the edge of the table he’d perched you on. "They really don’t like you.”

“I’ve noticed.” A blunt response, not abrasive, but not encouraging, either. Not as dismissive as you would’ve preferred. “And yet, they manage to stomach my cures regardless. It’s funny how quickly pain softens the heart, isn’t it?”

“They say it’s unnatural.” You were pushing, now. You should know better than to push. You never found out anything good, when you tried to push. “They say your father used to dabble in things that shouldn’t be.”

Eden sighed, pushing himself to his feet. There was a short silence, interrupted only by the sound of glass knocking against glass before he dropped what he was holding, stepping in front of you and cupping your face with both hands, instead, forcing you to face him, to meet his dark eyes. Black eyes. Lightless eyes. A contradiction when compared his tanned skin and warm smile. A contradiction you tried to overlook as he bent down, kissing the top of your head so gently, you could almost bring yourself to ignore it altogether.

“My father was a toymaker and a healer. My mother died in childbirth. He did what he could to take care of me, and there is nothing unnatural about that.” He took a moment to laugh, to hold you, and you couldn’t be help but be thankful for it. Only weeks ago, he’d been afraid to touch you, afraid to watch you break all over again. Now, it was all he could do to let you go long enough for his arms to fall to your waist, for your face to find his chest, his tunic, a place to hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You didn’t want to go back, not to the village, not to the marketplace, not to the lonely, hurtful, desolate world outside his cottage. You didn’t want to go back to a place filled with so many people so determined to separate you from Eden. You didn’t want to return to a life you couldn’t remember, one where you wouldn’t have the man who’d saved you by your side. “He loved his family, just as I love you.”

For once, you didn’t have to convince yourself to believe him.

~

Witch hazel, to stop the bleeding.

You’d need it. You’d need a lot of it, more than you should for such a small cut, a jagged line drawn from the corner of your eye to your opposite check, thin but deep and bleeding, pouring out, washing over your hands as you tried to clutch at your face and rub away the damage, like a child trying to blink away a bad dream. Your legs might’ve been bleeding, too, the sides of your ankles, the backs of your thighs, your skin scraped raw in all the places you’d hit the ground as you tripped, falling over your own feet at your stumbled backward, but you didn’t check, you didn’t want to check, you didn’t want to see how bad it was. You didn’t want to take your eyes off the man in front of you, his towering stature, his grim expression.

His sword, silver and unsheathed and pointed at your heart, as it had been from the moment he first caught sight of you.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here, in Eden’s forest, only minutes away from the cottage you’d come to think of as your safe haven. He hadn’t asked for your name, he hadn’t mentioned Eden, he hadn’t said a word to you, not before there was a dagger flashing across your line of sight, a weapon quickly discarded for something more intimidating, something that’d let him stay at arm’s length while he approached you, his stare holding yours, his lips pulled into a thin frown. “I—” You tried, but your voice gave out quickly. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened your life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so scared. “Please, I didn’t mean to get in your—”

“Stop talking.” His tone was flat, apathetic, the barest hints of rage seeping through a weathered veil of neutrality. Immediately, you fell silent. “Who said you had the right to use that voice?”

You opened your mouth, but you thought better of it, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you bowed your head. You wanted to get back to Eden, back to his cottage. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to run, but you wanted to get out of this with your head on your shoulders, too. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It will not be a true death.” There was a pause, a reluctant hesitation. You pulled your knees into your chest, your hand still pressed to your wound, but the gesture didn’t seem to earn you any pity. “But, I am going to make this—”

He stopped, abruptly, his head attention towards something behind you. You heard it a moment later – measured footsteps, barely making a sound against the dead leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

Not when there was only one person who’d ever bother to save you.

“Adam,” Eden called, already positioning himself at your side. His hand was already on his satchel, toying with the buckle. Like he’d done this, before. Like he already knew it wouldn’t resolve itself peacefully. “There are easier ways to introduce yourself. If you put that sword away, I’m sure (Y/n) could still find a way to forgive—”

“Do not call it by that name.” He was focused on Eden, now, leaving you to fade into the background, to observe as his hands began to shake and he glared, baring his teeth, as Eden had done more than try to play peacekeeper. “That is not (Y/n). It doesn’t deserve to pretend it is, none of your abominations do. It won't bring— It can't—” He trailed off, his sword falling back to his side, his eyes clenching shut. You almost felt bad for him, your would-be murderer, but Eden’s expression remained cold, unbothered. Slowly, almost idly, he reached down, taking you by the arm and helping you to your feet, letting you tuck yourself against him as Adam finally found his voice.

“(Y/n) is dead. Nothing you do can change that.”

A moment passed in silence, still, deathly, frigid silence.

Then, Eden spoke.

“I can handle this on my own.” He didn’t deny it. He wasn’t denying it. Why wasn’t he denying it? “I need you to brew tea, Chamomile. Gather as much lavender as you can on your way home, until your pockets are full and you can’t carry anymore. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded, but you were still shaking, still unsure, still so, so confused. You weren’t dead. You could breathe, and you could think, and you ate and you slept and you weren’t dead. “I’m not.” You didn’t know who you were talking to – Adam, still clutching his sword, still ready to behead whoever his blade could reach or Eden, your Eden, the gentle protector who hadn’t looked at you once since his arrival. You just wanted someone to say it wasn’t true. You just needed someone to say it wasn’t true. “I’m not. I’m alive. I’m not de—”

“I’m in love,” Eden said, his voice soft. As if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Why does everyone act as if that’s so monstrous?”

You didn’t want to hear Adam’s response. You didn’t want to hear anything, not from him, not from Eden, and certainly not from your own frenzied thoughts, racing and only growing louder as you ran, sprinting, stumbling through the forest in any direction your legs would carry you. A crooked sob racked over your chest, and reflexively, you moved to brush away the tears blurring your vision, but you couldn’t feel yourself when you should’ve, it wasn’t flesh that met your cheek. Your eyes darted to your hand, a sneer already playing at your lips for whatever mud or decaying foliage had plastered itself against your skin, but…

But, you found a small trail of crystals, instead, silvery-glass that coated your palm, rows of jagged edges that hadn’t been there before, that shouldn’t have been there, where your blood had stained your skin only minutes ago. Or, where you thought your blood should’ve stained your skin. You hadn’t looked.

You hadn’t looked.

You froze dead in your tracks.

Slowly, our raised a hand to your face, to the cut carved into it, to what should’ve been a bloody, bloody wound. Something jagged met your fingertips, but you ignored the slight sting. It didn’t hurt. Not as much as it should’ve. Not as much as you wanted it to.

By the time you pulled away, your hand was covered with it. Thick, cool, forming webs between your fingers as you spread them apart. Dark. A kind of dark you’d only seen once.

As black as a starless sky.

[championofravens]

Its vital I document the coherent parts of the dream I just woke up from because oh my god how did this happen

So I dreamed last night that they released a Kirby movie, full theatrical release. Official branding. No trailers though so people went into it blind. I was people. I go to the theater and strap in.

Movie starts very classic. Kirby awakens from some long, long slumber to vanquish nebulous evil. We watch what is essentially just a cinematically shot intro of a first stage vintage Kirby game- little pink puffball runs around a magic forest and takes out little guys. It was great. 10/10. Kirby breaks out of the forest after clearing the classic tree stage boss and is on the doorstep of a magic kingdom.

Kirby floats through a gap in the walls and it's this big beautiful metropolis. But Kirby spies in the distance another classic mini boss, who is hanging out chilling with another mini boss type on the streets. Like not being evil actively. But Kirby ponies up and beelines it and makes a heroic landing to confront the mini boss.

The mini boss is stunned to see Kirby but... this is where stuff gets a little weird. He enters the fight very begrudgingly, seeming conflicted, not about hurting Kirby but something else. The fight plays out like a typical game boss fight but before Kirby can deal a finishing blow, a bell tolls. The streets flood with waddle dees and other humanoid 'enemies', all scrambling to get to work in one of the buildings. Very silly, classic "crowd seperates the two foes" shenanigans

But as this mini boss is taking the moment to leave, he is grim. He turns to Kirby over the sea of people dividing them and vanishes with forebodding words:

"Leave while you still can. Things have... changed since you've been gone."

Kirby is adorably confused by this message and toddles off into an alley to hide and recoup. As he does, he sees passerbys all pausing and staring with wonder and confusion at the stone road where the fight took place. Kirby investigates and sees... idk how to describe it. His spit? It's whatever Kirby's mouth secretes. Its like rainbow and vicous, tiny remnants on the stone.

Ok this is getting long so I will try to condense:

Kirby ends up disguising himself as a waddle dee to make his way into the largest building in the kingdom which turns out to be a very modern multi story office building of sorts. He quickly finds out its a fucking CANNABIS FACILITY? Like a big ass gentrified weed manufacturing company.

But its not weed they're growing. It's Kirby's spit...kind of. They are using the molecules that make up Kirby's biology to make the most addictive, lucrative, potent drug of all time ever.

Kirby during his centuries long slumber has become this like detested but reverred being of terrifying power and biology that spawned it's own branch of scientific study and research. They dedicated MUSEUMS to Kirby. And not lovingly. More like "look at this fucked up mistake of god. its not even made of atoms." I walked through the museums. I read the plaques. I watched the mini science films they projected. It was FUCKING INSANE.

Anyways, so the kingdom basically offered free housing and life long benefits to any boss or mini boss that had ever fought Kirby, as long as they could use them as help for their scientific studies. Eventually, some mad scientist began smuggling out lab samples and made a fucking drug empire once he learned just a tiny bit of Kirby biology got people to trip like nothing else before.

It was like if Kirby was an alien the government captured who's body was made up of LSD

Anyways the dream spiralled out of control before any resolution happened. I remember there was an entire museum section to how Kirby apparently impacted the oceans and all ocean life but I didn't get to go in before I woke up