#these are just a small part of our weird idioms

[anitalianfrie]

wildest italian idioms compilation

compiled the weirdest idioms just for u <3 they are super common in italian but sound weird as hell in english. use them with frequency, put them in your fics, idk :)

"toccarsi le palle"="touching nuts", it's the equivalent of "knock on wood": you use it do avert bad luck

"a cazzo di cane"="like dog's dick", you use it in the phrase "doing something..." and it means that thing was done badly

"avere culo"="to have ass", to be lucky

"stare sul culo"="to be on someone's ass", it's used to say you don't like someone/you find them a jerk

"prendere l'inculata"="to take it in the ass", when something goes bad for you. es:"they didn't tell me i had to study that part and it was in the test, i took it in the ass"

"in culo ai lupi"="in the wolves ass", said of place that is difficult to reach/somewhere really far

"sfigato"="without pussy", tecnically it mean you don't have a girlfriend, but nowadays it is only used with the meaning "unlucky"

"sei un dito in culo"="you're a finger up the ass", you're unpleasant. you can add things on this, i had a friend who used to say "you're three fingers full of sand up the ass" and i think that's beautiful

"ne ho le palle piene/i coglioni pieni"="i have my balls full", means that you're annoyed by a situation/someone and you can't take anymore of it

[thelastspeecher]

Accidental Abduction AU - Tethers

Emerges from my autumnal pile of blankets, posts this writing, and immediately slithers back underneath my cozy hideaway.

Here, have a surprise Accidental Abduction AU ficlet. Featuring Feelings.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan stood on the teleporting pad, his heart in his mouth.  Sally and Merle smiled at him from where they stood, manning the teleportation controls.  They preferred to avoid teleporting, something Angie and Lute attributed to them being “old school”.  But there wasn’t anywhere the ship could safely land where Stan was headed.

              “Are you ready?” Sally asked.  Stan swallowed nervously, but nodded.  He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in when he was first abducted.  After so long in the jumpsuits preferred on the alien planet, jeans felt incredibly weird.  “We’ll send you down once Angie’s here.”

              “Uh, why?” Stan asked.  Merle frowned.

              “We’re not sending you down on your own, son.  It wouldn’t be polite.”

              “…Angie’s coming with me?” Stan said quietly.  As if on cue, Angie entered the room, wearing one of the few pieces of Earth clothing they had found that fit her large stature: a yellow sundress patterned with flowers.  “You’re coming with?”

              “Yep!”  Angie walked over to the teleporting pad.  She stood next to him, smiling.  “I want to see your planet!”

              “But, uh, you’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

              “I love that expression,” Angie said with a giggle.  “Humans are so odd with their idioms!”

              “He has a point, dear,” Merle said.  “You need to disguise yourself before we send you down.”

              “All right, all right, just gimme a minute!” Angie said, rolling her eyes.  Stan felt a small surge of pride.

              I taught her how to be ornery like that.  Then, before his astonished eyes, Angie began to shrink.  Her magenta hair changed to a caramel-color, albeit with some pink streaks, and her cobalt skin lightened into a hue close to Stan’s.  Angie looked at him.  Only one of her eyes was silver now.  The other was a soft blue.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Have you always been able to do that?” he demanded.  Angie giggled again.  “You’ve been able to do that this whole time?!”

              “Our species has limited shapeshifting abilities,” Merle explained.  “Angie’s human disguise is superior to most members of our race, however, because she is a quarter human.”

              “Why didn’t you guys tell me before?” Stan asked.  Angie shrugged.

              “It never came up.”

              “I can’t believe this,” Stan muttered.  He shook his head.  “Well, it’ll make it easier to blend in.  Even though you’re still way taller than average.”  Angie’s height, a few inches shy of seven feet, had been reduced to roughly six feet.

              “Yeah, we can’t change our size very much.”  Angie beamed at him.  “Ready?”  Stan took a steadying breath.

              “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

-----

              The teleporter placed Stan and Angie in an alleyway Stan knew well.  He looked to his left.  Sure enough, the fire escape was still broken.

              The excuse they used to get out of fixing it was that it would make it easier for me to sneak out.  Guess that was bullshit.  Some part of him yearned to grab the familiar rusty metal and pull himself up like he used to.  No.  That’s not what I’m here for.

              “Well?” Angie asked.  Stan looked at her.  “Do you think you’re tethered?”

              Right.  That’s what we’re here for.  The alien family was willing to let him stay with them, but on the one condition that they check whether he was “tethered” to Earth.  According to them, some species struggled leaving their home planet, and they didn’t want to harm him by keeping him in a different solar system.

              “How will I know if I’m tethered?” Stan asked.  Angie frowned.

              “Your vitals will get better, for one thing.  For another, you’ll just feel more at peace and complete.”  Her mismatched eyes searched his face.  “So?”

              “I mean.  I sorta feel the same,” Stan mumbled.  Angie nodded slowly.  “Does that mean we’re good?”

              “My mom said that tethering can take up to ten minutes to manifest properly.  We won’t know for sure if humans are an untethered species until then.”

              “Okay…”  Stan stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  His fingers brushed up against his old lighter.

              Man, I haven’t had a smoke since I ran outta my last pack almost a year ago.

              “You’ve told me a lot about Earth beaches,” Angie started timidly.

              “You wanna see the beach?”

              “Yes!”

              “Sure, I’ll show you the beach.”  Stan kissed her cheek.  “I like taking pretty girls for walks on beaches.”  Angie smiled sweetly.  “Follow me.”  Stan exited the alley and began to walk down the street.  He and Angie had only managed a few steps before there was a loud crash from the building they were walking past.  Stan sighed heavily.

              Dammit.  She’s the one working the counter, isn’t she?  He reluctantly turned his head.  Looking like she’d seen a ghost, his mother stared at him through the Pines Pawns storefront.  Stan came to a stop and sighed again.

              “Something wrong?” Angie asked.

              “No, just- I gotta do something,” Stan said.  “I’m gonna go in this store.  I’ll be right back.”

              “Oh.  Okay.”

              “If anyone tries to mess with you, do this,” Stan said, flipping the bird.  Angie nodded slowly.  “If they keep messing with you after you do that, go ahead and kick their ass.”  Angie flipped the bird back at Stan.

              “This is a diplomatic gesture, then?” she asked.

              “In New Jersey?  Yeah.  But don’t do it unless someone messes with you.  Okay?”

              “Got it.”  Angie smiled.  Stan frowned.  “What?”

              “It’s weird seeing you with regular human teeth,” Stan said.  Angie laughed.  “All right.  Try not to attract too much attention.”

              “I’ll do my best,” Angie said.  Stan shot another smile in her direction and entered the store.  The bell over the door ringed, a sound that immediately flashed him back to the thousands of times he’d heard it before.

              “Hey, Mom,” Stan managed weakly.  Ma Pines continued to stare at him silently.  He walked up to the counter.  “So, uh, I-”

              “Where have you been?!” Ma Pines demanded, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close.  Stan looked out the storefront window.  Angie was engrossed in a pigeon eating a piece of pizza.

              Good.  Don’t want her to see any of this conversation.

              “…Places,” Stan said vaguely.

              “It was like you disappeared off the face of the Earth!”

              “I mean, sorta,” Stan mumbled.  His mom released her hold on his shirt.  She searched his face, then scanned his body.

              “I see you haven’t lost any weight.”

              “Uh.  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

              “A good thing.  Clearly, you’re getting food from somewhere.”

              “Yeah.  The family I’ve been staying with are asking me all the time if I need more to eat.”

              “You’ve been staying with a different family?” Ma Pines whispered.  Stan scowled at her.

              “I was kicked outta the house at seventeen, Mom.  It’s not like I had any other options lined up.”

              “You could have come back-”

              “I couldn’t have, and you know that,” Stan said firmly.  Ma Pines sighed softly but nodded.  “Anyways, I’m not- I’m in town today for a few hours, but after that, I’m not coming back.  You- you might not ever see me again.”

              “What?!”  Ma Pines slammed her hands on the counter, glaring at Stan.  “You can’t just expect me to accept my baby walkin’ out like that!”

              “You were fine with Pops kicking your ‘baby’ out!” Stan snapped back.  He shook his head.  “Stop acting like there are a billion alternatives.  There aren’t.  Either I stay or I leave.  And you know why I can’t stay.”

              “Yes.  I- I suppose I do.”  Ma Pines looked down at the counter.  “But you’ll really never come back?”

              “Probably not.”

              “Why not?”

              “There isn’t anything for me here.”

              “I don’t qualify?”

              “You and Pops are kinda a package deal.”

              “Shermie?”

              “He’s overseas more often than not.”

              “Stanford?”

              “Does he still hate my guts?” Stan asked.  Her silence was answer enough.  “Mom, there’s nothing here for me except bad memories.  I have to go.  And I won’t be back.”

              “The family you’re living with…they take good care of you?” Ma Pines asked.

              “Oh yeah.  They’re, uh, foreigners, so they’re always worried about making sure I’m doing all right.  They’re not familiar with our culture or whatever.”

              “No, that makes sense.”

              “You don’t have to worry, Mom.  I’m gonna be fine.”

              “I’m your mother.  I’ll always worry,” Ma Pines said roughly.  She discretely wiped away a tear from her eye.  She then turned her head to look out the storefront window.  “The young lady outside…”

              “What about her?”

              “Is she part of the family you’re staying with?”

              “Yeah.”

              “She wouldn’t happen to be your girlfriend, too, would she?” Ma Pines asked, watching Angie.  Angie was still observing the pigeon intently.

              “…Yes.  She is.”

              “Is it serious?”

              “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

              “That’s a yes, then.  Is she Jewish?”

              “Mom!”

              “All right, I’ll drop it.”  Ma Pines sighed.  “A cute dress like that deserves a necklace.  Silver or gold?”

              “Huh?”

              “For your girlfriend,” Ma Pines said impatiently.  “A silver or gold necklace?”

              “Uh, silver?  But I don’t have any cash on me.”

              I’ve got alien bucks, but Pops doesn’t like taking checks.  No way he’d accept money from a different solar system.

              “Oh, please,” Ma Pines scoffed.  She walked over to the jewelry case and removed a delicate looking silver necklace with a moon charm on it.  “Even psychics misplace things sometimes.”

              “Mom…” Stan started.  Ma Pines walked back to the counter.

              “Just promise me you’ll be the good boy I know you are.  Don’t fight with your host family or your girlfriend unless they deserve to be fought.”  She held out the necklace.

              “I can’t take this.”

              “I insist,” Ma Pines said.  “Either you take it or I march out there and give it to your girlfriend myself.”

              “Fine.”  Stan took the necklace from his mom.

              “Pretty girls deserve pretty things.”

              “I know, I know.  You’ve told me that a thousand times.”

              “Sure, sue me for telling you one more time before you leave forever.”  Ma Pines leaned over the counter to kiss Stan’s forehead.  “Take care of yourself, Stanley Danley.”

              “I always do.”

              “Good boy.”  Ma Pines sighed heavily.  She looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the tears in her eyes.  “Now, get outta here before I lock the door and make you stay.”

              “Okay.”  Stan walked back to the door.  He paused.  “I- I love you, mom.”

              “I love you, too, sweetie,” Ma Pines said, her voice choked up.  Stan left the store, the familiar bell ringing again.  Angie looked over at him.

              “Did you get what you were looking for?” she asked.

              “Yeah.  I did.”  Stan walked up to her.  He held out the necklace.  “This is for you.”

              “I thought you didn’t have any Earth money left.”

              “I found some,” Stan lied.  Angie hesitantly took the necklace from him.  “It matches your eyes.  Well, it matches your eyes when they’re normal.”  Angie giggled.  She put on the necklace, every movement careful, like she was worried she’d break it.

              “How’s it look?” she asked.

              Dammit, Mom was right.  The necklace completes the outfit.

              “It looks great, babe.  C’mon, let’s head out for the beach.”

              “Ooh, yes!”

              They crossed the street.  Before they could leave the block, however, a taxi pulled in front of the pawn shop.  Stan paused.  He watched Ford exit the taxi and enter the store.  Through the storefront window, he could see his mom leave her spot behind the counter to wrap Ford in a tight embrace.

              “Oh, the ten minutes are up,” Angie said, checking the small device she kept around her wrist like a watch.  “We should know for sure whether you’re tethered or not.  So…are you?”

              “I still don’t know how to tell,” Stan muttered.

              “Is there anything drawing you to this planet?  Any sort of connection?” Angie pressed.  Stan watched his mom and twin brother disappear behind a door, presumably to go to the apartment upstairs.  The apartment he’d been raised in.  He took a deep breath, then let it out.

              “No.  Nothing’s keeping me here,” Stan said.  Angie clapped her hands in excitement.

              “Oh, excellent!  You can stay with us permanently then!  I’ll tell my parents the good news.”

              “Ah ah, not so fast,” Stan said.  “When you tell them, they’ll want to teleport us back.  And we’ve still got a beach to see.”

              “Oh no, I almost forgot!  Yes, please take me to the beach!”

              “You got it, babe.”  Stan took ahold of Angie’s hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.  They walked down the street.  Angie rambled about the pigeon she’d been watching, but Stan couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

              The plan had always been to tell the alien family that he didn’t have any connection to Earth.

              Stan just didn’t expect that to be the truth.

[luimagines]

The Chain is your Soulmate Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Twilight, Wind and Time.

Content under the cut!

Twilight

I swear if I have to hoof it another foot, I’ll eat it.

Those were the words on your wrist. The first words you’ll hear your soulmate say.

Who on earth talks like that?

It was a little comforting to be honest, knowing that they spoke in strange idioms. At least when you met them, you’d know. there would be no second guessing it. It didn’t really make any more sense the longer you stared at it or how many times you’ve read it though. So there was that.

You sighed and tossed the bag over the counter. You swear they packed the whole thing with rocks just to mess with you. Your boss was merciless you could have sworn. No way to get out of it though. Rupies were rupies.

The door of the inn was thrown open, a group of rowdy teenagers coming in. Immediately filling the space with noise and complaints you were so not in the mood to deal with that kind of energy right now. You tried to bite the curse from your tongue before you could shout out and ram your head into a wall.

It’s been a long day.

A few of them, some of the older ones you noticed, sat down instantly by a table and nearly collapsed into it. They looked about as tired as you felt. More, probably.

You felt for them and put your apron on and getting a small note pad. Work it work.

You get close.

“I swear if I have to hoof it one more foot, I’ll eat it.”

“Well, I don’t think our cook has that on the menu but I can make an inquiry.” You say without missing a beat, pulling out a pen. And then his words hit you.

You drop the notepad and look at the one who spoke. He seems confused for a second why you’re staring at him. 

You’re eyes are as wide as saucers and you slowly find it in yourself to speak. “...You said the thing.”

He’s not getting it, the cogs in his brain not turning fast enough. He’s about to ask what you mean by it because you pull your sleeve up momentarily. His word seeming to be the only thing he can narrow in on. When he reads it, he sobers up instantly.

Surprised, he stands and looks at his own words looking back at you with a shocked expression. He not longer looks tired. “....Oh my goodness. Um...”

You snap your head back to his friends. “Does he always speak that weird?”

To his credit, the one with the blue scarf laugh instead. “Yes. Get used to it.”

The boy in front of you softens a bit and holds his hand out. You shake it and actually take him in. His hands are warm and callused, a hard worker. He’s tall and built with dirty blond hair and tattoos on his face. And the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

He smiles shyly and blushes slightly. “My name is Link.”

You introduce yourself as well and smile back. With a single kick, you flip your notepad back into your hand and finally take out your pen. “What can I get started for you gentlemen today? Or is the foot still what you want?”

“No, no, I’ll take some potatoes.” He sits back down. “And maybe some of your time.”

A friend of his, a different one, older, with a scar over his eye, snorts. “Cub.”

Link swipes at him without even looking away from you. It somehow endears you. “I get off in an hour.”

“Perfect.”

Wind

You had the weirdest birthmark. A black spot, just on your shoulder. Pitch black. Unnaturally black. It was hard for you to see the shape of even with a mirror.

It took a few years until you understood that it was your soulmark. There’s a few prevailing theories that your parents and friends have about what kind it is.

The main one is that it’s the first place your soulmate is going to touch you.

You weren’t sure why they would touch your shoulder when you’d first meet. From what you can tell it doesn’t even look like a hand. But whatever. Your shirts covered it anyway. Out of sight, out of mind as they always say.

Things were normal and you didn’t think you’d meet them soon anyway. It was a huge life milestone. Surely you have more years ahead of you. Besides you were too busy playing the streets with your friend and trying to explore all that you could before dinner time. There was no time for soulmates.

It was on one of these days, where nothing in particularly new was happening, that you heard something from the shop down the street. A group of mercenaries. Armed to the teeth and young. Too young some of them. All in need of potions and supplies.

Now this. This was interesting. You had to learn more. If you were lucky, maybe you’d see them. It sounded exciting.

You tried to follow the trail. They garnered everyone’s attention quickly and you could feel yourself get close. There was a man just beyond the crowd that wore full armor with a massive sword strapped to his back. He had to be one of them.

You get close. 

“Excuse me sir.” You say politely when you get close enough. “What’s your name?”

The name turns to you and you feel your eyes widen. If you had any doubts before, you didn’t anymore. He had a scar of his eye and colorful marks on his face. You suddenly feel incredibly small next to him. Why did you want to talk to him again?

He smiles though and kneels down to look you in the eye. “My name is Link. What’s yours?”

You give it to him, feeling impossibly shy. He smiles wider. “That’s a nice name. Is there anything I can help you with?”

You feel yourself begin to fluster. “I... umm... I was wondering if you can use the sword, on your back. It’s very large. It looks heavy.”

He blinks and looks behind him, eyeing the handle. “It is quite heavy but I can use it, yes.”

“Hey! He’s not even the coolest one of us.” Another voice says. It’s around your age. “We call him the Old Man for a reason. They call me Wind! Nice to meet you.”

There’s a punch on your shoulder and you can’t but to shudder uncontrollably for a moment. The boy next to you is similar, holding his hand close to his chest. There’s a moment of silence around you two until Link, the Old Man, speaks up. “Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, I-” You shudder again and shake yourself to get rid of the feeling. “That just felt really weird.”

“Sorry.” Wind says and sticks his hand out. “I didn’t know. Can I try that again? I’m-” 

A gasp.

Across his knuckles was the brightest and most colorful array of shapes and shades that seemed to meld within one another. It was beautiful. You stare at it. “You have a tattoo.”

Wind shakes his head. “...It was black before. It was always black. I don’t understand.”

You do.

With another gasp you try to move the collar of your clothes to look at your shoulder. As expected the angle make it difficult. You turn to the boy next to you. “What does it look like?”

“Colors.” He says. “A lot of them.”

The Old Man sighs for a moment before laughing. Confused, you both turn to him. He covers his mouth as his shoulders shake. “You’re soulmates.”

Wind stares at him for a moment longer before it clicks. He lunges himself at you, almost tackling you in a hug. You don’t know why but you hug him back. When he begins to spin, you follow suit, laughing before you know it.

“Congratulations.” 

“I want to learn everything about you.” Wind pulls back. “This is so cool! Time! Can we stay for a bit longer? Please? Please, please, please.”

He sighs once more and shakes his head. “I’ll inform the others.” He waves him off. “Go have fun.”

“Yes!″ He cheers and begins to drag you away.

“Wait, wait, wait-” You try to stop him. He stops abruptly, causing you crash into his back. You’re smiling even if it’s faster than you thought it would be. “Is your name really Wind?”

“It’s Link.” He winks. “Cool name, I know. Enough so that all of us in our group are named Link.... so no one can be called that.”

He says the last part so sullenly compared to his earlier behavior that it startles another laugh out of you. He doesn’t look impressed.

You shake your head and take his hand again. “Do you want to go the pond? I know a spot where we can talk.”

“Yeah, let’s go!”

Time

You thought you were soulmateless. Not only did you have no clue what your connection even was, but there was little if any show for it. You could see every color. You didn’t hear random singing. You didn’t have their name on your body and you didn’t have any weird or “spontaneous” birth marks on your body. Both your eyes were the same color and your hair was constant throughout.

There was little to no indication that you even had a soulmate.

You weren’t that upset by it, if anything you were more confused. Everyone else had one and yet you didn’t feel as if you had lost them. Some people mentioned that maybe they had yet to be born yet but as the years went on, the thought became less comforting and more concerning, if it was true.

It was fine in the end. Of course. Soulmate or not, life still goes on. So did you.

That being said- this current part of your life was unnecessary.

It’s not like you were very adventurous to begin with, but if you wanted to be stuck with a bunch of teenagers for weeks on end you would be a teacher at the local academy.

Since there were more things you had to keep track of, you’ve taken to writing on your arms. Little things. Just things that you wanted to remember and couldn’t bother getting a notebook or a loose leaf. It’s easier when it has to be written fast and dry quick. Especially when within the next 5 minutes, someone could be asking for your attention again.

You grew to love them, but they took a lot of energy out of you.

You were doing laundry outside of the inn your group was currently staying in when Time approached you. You didn’t think much of it. He was probably going to drop off some more things for you to wash. Goodie.

He says your name instead. “Can we talk?”

Your blood goes cold. “Sure.”

You laugh a little nervously and hang up the last piece of cloth before making your way over to him. Time has sat himself down on a dry log, a little ways away from where you were working. You take a seat next to him and notice that he has a paint brush and a small ink well.

You try to not pay attention to the way he has his sleeves rolled up and how he adjusts them above his elbow. Your growing crush on him has been a bit of a nuisance but you like to think you’ve been subtle.

“What is it Time?” You bite your lip, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on his face. Which.. isn’t much better for you, with his chiseled jaw and long eyes lashes, his stunning blue eyes and defined, sharp features-

“Something has to come to my attention.” He says evenly, balancing the inkwell on his knee and sticking out his arm. He has the paint brush in his other hand and he dip it into the ink well.

“Um... Ok.” You’re confused. He’s not meeting your eyes. All his attention is on what he’s doing. He holds his hand out for a moment. 

“Your arm please.” He says with a soft smile.

Your struck through the heart and don’t even think about what he might do next. Time is gentle with you. He takes your hand and turns it over so that it’s palm up and he extends it so that your forearm is on full display much like his other one was moments prior.

You think he’s going to paint on your arm only to paint on his own. Now that you’re mirroring him he seems a bit at ease. He draws swirls on his forearm, it’s a pattern that look vaguely familiar to you but you cant think about where you’ve seen it before.

Suddenly something feels cold on your arm and look down. With a gasp, you jump and hold your arm close to your face.

It’s the same symbol that Time just drew.

You’re stunned and you slowly look back to Time. He’s blushing softly and he’s looking at you with more adoration that you thought you’d ever see. “It appears we’re soulmates, My Dear.”

“Bu-... how?” You have to focus on your breathing. You feel lightheaded.

“I had noticed recently that I’ve been getting marks on my arms that I couldn’t understand. They appeared to be written but I wasn’t sure what they meant. Warrior somehow knew and we connected it to you. I made a subtle mark a while ago.” Time says and he point to a small spot under his chin. “I washed it off earlier but you had it, even if you didn’t realize it.”

You feel like there’s was a bucket of ice water just dumped on you. It both feels too fast and not fast enough. You grab the paint brush and Time lets you take it. You copy his movements of dipping the paint brush in the ink well and paint a bit on your own arm, keeping your sights on Time’s mirroring one. It follows the movements of the brush and feeling a bit cheeky, you draw a smiley face.

Your voice goes quiet and the surreality of the moment finally hits you. “...What now?”

“I would like to romance you.” Time caps the ink well and takes the paint brush from you, putting it aside. “If you’d let me.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your head snaps to Time’s, meeting him head on. He’s been subdued this whole time, you realize. He’s actually incredibly nervous.

“You must forgive me for not doing something about it earlier, My Dear.” He says. “I wasn’t even aware of soulmates until I learned I had one.”

Your heart clenches and you nod. “Ok.”

Time’s face drops, sobering up for a moment. “What?”

“Yes. You can romance me.” You have to bite back a growing smile. Even if they were his words first, there’s something you find incredibly endearing about them.

Time’s face brightens and blooms into a steady shade of red. But he’s smiling. He raises his hand to cup your cheek and you lean into it. “Alright then. It’s settled.”

You laugh a bit. “...Not how I thought my day would turn out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not in the slightest.”

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 07

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A philosophical slant, (heavy) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom being absolute hubby material, Werewolf!Jaebeom being awkward and (a bit of a) pervert, domestic fluff, talk of medication, apparently werewolves don’t like to wear clothes (what is my canon...), talk of life and death, mention of blood, mild swearing

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Well, here it is, earlier and much longer than originally planned. It’s also a lot more tragic and philosophical than I intended it to be, but then again, what else can you expect from a tragedian fascinated by the human condition even as it is translated into the realm of the magical?

I think I just thought of the modern literary movement I might belong to: magic realism.

It’s a crying shame the Decadent Movement isn’t active anymore, though, because that one truly feels like a good fit for me both as an author and an individual. Ah well, c’est la vie.

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Masterlist

There is nothing better for a wolf than being with its mate. 

Well, there is one thing.

Having them completely at your mercy as you’re inside them.

I still don’t understand what the plastic wrapping is good for, but Jinyoung was very insistent on using it while we drove to the airport. And Y/N seemed glad I had whatever it is, her scent even betraying a hint of relief. However, one day, I hope she’ll tell me not to use it.

No, that’s not right. There’s a word for the… whatever it is.

A condom.

That’s the word.

I hope she’ll tell me not to use a condom. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in season or not, although the chances she’ll pup are higher if I am. I want pups with her, a little pack of our own. I want it to be our toddler running around the park, chasing its sibling. Then again, will I remain human long enough to see them grow up?

Will I even remember their birth on the day they’re born?

Will I still be here?

Or remain without a family, a proud bloodline?

I slowly open my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight bathing the room in a warm golden hue, swallow hard and force myself to calm down. There is no use in contemplating this now, not this early in the day nor in our time together. What counts is that I’m here now with Y/N in my arms and we’re in her apartment somewhere.

A faint whiff of brine seeps in through the air cleaner filter above the window overlooking the city. A gull flies by and lands on the roof of the building opposite ours.

Sea. Rusted metal. Right, the old harbour.

A high-pitched noise, a disquiet hum followed by a sigh, makes my ears perk up. I look down at the lady sleeping on my chest, curled up and fingers balled into small fists similar to a bunny’s paws. More importantly, however, she’s perfectly alright and was only unconsciously trying to get more comfortable.

A breathless chuckle rises in my throat at the display. Y/N’s adorable even when she’s fast asleep, her lips parted yet not enough to allow drooling.

I, on the other hand, am another story. I don’t do it often, but I must have been so tired last night I triggered the habit. The finger I swipe over the corners of my mouth comes away wet both times.

Oh no, I didn’t drool on her, did I? Would she mind, though, if I explained it’s a sign I’m comfortable with her?

It isn’t hard to guess the answer to the question. She would beat me over the head, likely with a shoe, and say I’m not allowed to bite her at all anymore. Not even in the future.

In a hurry to discover whether I made the fatal mistake, I check her messy hair but keeping my movements controlled to not wake her up. Fortunately, there are no locks sticking together nor a trail running down over the side of her face.

With a deep sigh, I slump further down into the bed again and kiss her crown. However, I don’t go back to sleep despite the comfort of the sheets. Instead, I lift the lady’s head and gently put her down on the pillow as I get up, carefully calculating every movement like I do when hunting to make sure she won’t wake up or notice my absence in her unconscious state.

The faint smell of burned iron comes from somewhere when I rearrange the sheets to bundle Y/N up. My mouth dries up, throat blocked by something I can’t swallow as a familiar stench disturbs the morning happiness. Former intentions abandoned, I claw through the sheets to try and discover where the rank odour comes from.

Did I hurt her? Is she bleeding? Why is she bleeding? Where is it? Where’s the blood?

As suspected, the frantic search wakes the pretty lady. Propped up on an elbow, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed, she turns to me. “Jae, what-’’ she yawns, “What’re you doing?”

Barely has she asked the question or I find what I’ve been looking for.

On her side of the bed, between her thighs, is a puddle of dried blood.

Where did it come from? Did I… Did I do this?

I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close to check her condition, turning her this way and that as each thought grows more troubled. “Are you okay?” There’s nothing to see on the bare skin of her upper body. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe the wound is somewhere lower, on her hip or leg. I didn’t bite her last night. Right? I didn’t hurt her. At least, I don’t think I did. No. Surely the wolf- I wouldn’t harm her. I had enough control to prevent that from happening. Yes, that’s the case.

But then, with a fading mind, how much can I trust myself?

“Jaebeom, I’m fine. What are you- ah.” Y/N notices the spot of dark crimson when I pull the sheets completely off the bed and toss them aside. She lets out an incomprehensibly careless chuckle, evidently oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“What are you giggling about? Y/N, you’re bleeding!” I bark, lost.

A small paw cups my cheek, her thumb caressing the skin in an attempt to calm me down. “You took my virginity. It’s natural to bleed a little when that happens.”

“Are you still in pain?” Even though it’s natural, surely it’s not without repercussions. Otherwise, the stain wouldn’t be there.

“No, I’m not, silly. I’m okay.” She kisses the tip of my nose when I let out a whine, unhappy with the response. Withal, a curious tone in her voice overtakes my own displeasure. “Are you?”

Why do you say it like that?

She sounds weird, hinting at something I’m supposed to find as obvious as she. Yet, I have no clue about what it can be. So, I tilt my head and stare blankly at her, waiting for an explanation. “I’m fine.” 

My choice of words makes her visibly flinch despite the effort to hide it. The sleepiness which glazed her eyes evaporated, leaving them devoid of the amusement at my failure as a human. The recognizable sour note of anxiety creeps back into her scent, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “I’m alright. No pain. Happy to be here. Happy to wake up next to you.”

I rub her arms in a poor attempt to make her calm down, have her scent return to its spring-like fruitiness. She is supposed to smell like fresh fruit still hanging from the trees, yet to ripen. Not like fallen fruit beginning to decay in the summer sun.

“Okay,” is all she says in response before she pulls away, the absence of the warmth of her palm sending a cold shiver throughout my body.

The world always seems a little colder without her.

“Want breakfast?” A low grumble pierces the silence following the question, giving me enough of a response. And a reason to get my head, no, that’s not the idiom. To get my thoughts ordered. Organized. To get my thoughts in order? To think about… stuff. Last night. This. Everything. “Never mind. I’m making you breakfast. You have to eat.”

I stand up and head for the bathroom to first get rid of the weird plastic wrapping she put on me last night. Having thrown it in the bin there after a bit of an awkward struggle removing it, I move to the kitchen. Nevertheless, I don’t start preparing food right away. Instead, I pick up the grey hoodie I gave her from the bag between the sofa and chair facing the kitchen. I remember how she held it up to her nose, breathed in and basked in the scent.

My scent.

A fragment of last night’s memory.

I remember we had sex and that she told me I’m her first, but afterwards things are blurry.

Smell. I said something about how nicely she smells. Not really an original compliment since I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t help but focus on it.

And then…

Then…

Then instinct took over because I let it, thinking I’d remain in control even though I let go a little. After all, I’ve learned enough to know how to deal with the wolf inside thanks to the rehabilitation procedure Jinyoung put me through and supervised. Since then, there’s been a healthy balance between human and beast in my mind.

Or, rather, there was one.

I think.

Another boundary to watch out for. I have to keep myself in check. No more experimenting.

Because to do so is to forget.

And I want to remember.

 I stop absent-mindedly thumbing the piece of clothing, drape it over the armrest of the sofa and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the fridge quickly brings my plan to a halt, empty except for a pack of soy milk and a tray of eggs. The groceries Jinyoung and I got were only enough for dinner last night and there are no leftovers.

To be fair, she did just come back from a trip abroad. But still, is there really nothing to work with?

I sigh in defeat and grab the plant-based milk to pour it over the apple and cinnamon granola I find in the cupboard above the sink. At least it’s food and drink in one meal.

From the drawer next to the oven, I grab two spoons which I put into the bowls, grab the hoodie from the couch and return to the bedroom.

Y/N sits with her back turned to me, but flips around a little too fast for my liking once she hears my paws approaching. “Jaebeom?”

The terrible mixture of barely suppressed horror and genuine concern in her gaze has translated into her voice, which is cold and calculating. The sour note of anxiety hasn’t faded from her scent, creating a stone to sink to the bottom of my stomach because there’s only one thing that can be a distressing factor this early in the day.

Me.

Withal, the reason why she’s scared puzzles me since I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been me since I woke up.

Human.

Although, that’s me now.

Last night, I don’t know who or what I was though it isn’t hard to guess.

The pretty lady traces the deep indentation in the headboard of the bed with her fingers bent to resemble a claw. “Did you do this?”

Did- Did I? No. I- I don’t know. I was less strict with myself last night and don’t remember much, but surely I wasn’t gone enough to do this.

I hope.

I think.

I’m not sure.

But the reality provides the necessary evidence to repute any kind of denial I can offer.

I set the bowls down on the nightstand and crawl back on the bed to sit next to her. Gently, I nudge her hand aside to mimic her action, my own fingers perfectly fitting into the large gash. “I don’t know.”

A surge of violence shoots throughout my body, triggering the nagging feeling of a forgotten memory strong enough to knock the air out the lungs and split my skull with flashes of a memory. Nevertheless, the fragments pass by too fast to make sense of them and the mere attempt to do so worsens the headache. I flinch and scramble backwards with a paw- a hand pressed to my head as if I can thus suppress the pain. Yet, I remain unable to look at anything but the damage.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice hardly louder than a scared whisper.

“I felt your skin move beneath my fingers last night,” Y/N starts, catching my attention with the timid response suggestive of requiring more explanation.

Exactly what I don’t have since I can’t even explain it myself.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“I think I did, at least,” she adds doubtfully on a shivery breath. The sourness sweetens to doubt instead of anxiety. Nonetheless, it’s still worrying she’s ill… uncomfortable.

“Did I-“ I swallow hard, forcing out the words describing my worst nightmare. “Did I transform?”

“Transform?’’ She briefly turns her gaze from me to the indentation, lips parted in an attempt to articulate a thought that’s dismissed with a headshake the second thereafter. Her attention returns to me, her expression slackened. ‘’What are you- What… No, you didn’t, but you looked far away. Retreated further into your own world, more so than you normally are.”

“That’s good,” I mumble, nodding as I, too, briefly return my attention to the claw mark. “Was human. Good.”

Still, need to talk to the weird-smelling intruder. Doctor. Friend. Name, his name. Jinyoung. Jesus, man, get yourself together. Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re a twenty-eight old werewolf that- no, who runs a bookshop called Paper Souls. Jinyoung is your friend, doctor and supervisor appointed to you by... by... some organization.

“Jaebeom,” the pretty lady puts her hand on my shoulder, features softened instead of frozen and marred by fear, “have you taken your medication yet?”

The natural fruity undertone seems forced to be stronger.

You should be scared. I might have- I made that claw mark. Why treat me like a human? I’m a wolf.

“Me- Med-“ The strange word barely registers until a spark of humanity recalls its definition. “Medication. Pills. No, I- I haven’t.”

“Let me grab a glass of water and get them.”

She ruffles my hair, jumps off the bed and rushes out of the room. I listen to her bare feet lightly treading the floor as she moves on the other side of the wall, hurried steps going from the hallway, where she rummages in my coat for the rattling bottle of pills, to the kitchen. There, she opens a cupboard to grab a glass. The loud clinking of glass alongside the sour undertone in her scent indicates she almost accidentally caused several to fall out and break on the tiles. Fortunately, judging by the deep sigh of relief, Y/N could prevent it from happening.

She turns on the tab, fills the glass with water, turns the tab off and walks back into the room.

“There you go,” she says, handing me the small brown bottle and water. 

The mattress dips a bit when she sits down next to me with one of the bowls filled with cereal in her hands. After stirring the spoon around like she is trying to evade something, Y/N finally takes a first careful bite. Nevertheless, she starts eating properly after I kiss her temple, which is an apparently effective form of encouragement. I have to remember that. 

Quietly seated in the golden sunlight, we have our first breakfast together. I don’t mind her watching me as I’m taking my medication, measuring out the amount Jinyoung told me to take. Or, rather, as much as the label notes I should. Immediately my gag reflex is triggered when I put them in my mouth, the taste of bitter metal extremer than before so it’s like licking one of the rusted over buoys drifting in the harbour.

He’s increased the nightshade and silver. Damn, I think even the worst coffee tastes better than this.

“That bad?”

“Yep.” I open and close my mouth, nauseous due to the sickening taste lingering on my tongue. To prevent the bile rising in my throat from escaping, I gulp down the water. Unfortunately, it only washes down part of the bitterness.

She holds up a spoon with milk-soaked granola to feed to me, but I turn it down and shake my head. I might actually throw up if I eat anything right now. 

Disappointment flashes across her face, though it’s gone in an instant as she puts her bowl down and stands up. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“But... food,” I meekly offer and point at the half-empty bowl on the nightstand. She should put herself before me. 

Because I’ll be fine.

“We’re missing something important. Coffee,” the bunny-like lady playfully responds before she bounces off again to the kitchen.

The pleasant and slightly sweet scent of instant cappuccino warms the apartment, replacing the sharp scent of frozen water alluding to hail later on in the day. It’s a little early in the year, but soon the first snows will fall.

Hopefully, she’ll move before then so we can spend Christmas in her cottage. Although, it doesn’t even have to be the holidays. I’d light a fire, drape a blanket over our shoulders and keep Y/N close to warm her with mine as we read and look at the snowfall.

Like a snowflake falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling before our eyes, so we pass through life. At this rate, I think the next snowfall might be the last I’ll see.

Consciously.

Meaningfully.

Like a human.

The snowflake will faintly fall on the man I am, descend on the husk I’m becoming, while she will continue living.

Without me.

The living and the dead.

I smile wistfully until the same shot of pain treks through me as when I tried to fill in the gaps of the fragmented memory. Folded in on myself, cold sweat on my skin and short of breath, I press my palms against my snout to push the agony away.

The pained groaning must have alarmed the pretty lady because she rushes to my side and pushes one of the mugs in her little paws… hands in mine. “Here, take a sip. The caffeine will help.”

As told, I nip at the hot beverage. Indeed, the cappuccino lessens the headache and cold shivers that ran down my spine and threatened to spread. Though I dislike instant coffee, it actually tastes good when she prepares it. I sigh in relief, blow on the coffee to cool it down, and slowly drink it while Y/N caresses my jaw and ear just the way I like it. At the same time, she comforts me with her soothing voice, murmuring words of solace and assurance as she sits down next to me again. 

I could listen to you all day. Maybe I should ask you to read to me sometime. Although, not maybe. I’ll ask it later. Note to self, write a note on your phone to ask her to read to you. Also, make note of kissing her temple.

My reverie is broken up by a comment which rubs me the wrong way. “I have to go to the office later today-’’

“Already? You just got home.”

“They’re counting on me, Jae. Besides, I’m not that jet-lagged.”

“It’s not healthy. You should stay home. Rest,” I bark. Her eyes widen, taken aback by my bluntness.

She opens and closes her mouth, planning to say something yet deciding against it. Instead, she tugs my ear. “I’ll be fine. And you have your shop to look after, so let’s both work hard today.”

“Still,” I take another sip, “I don’t think you should go.”

“As long as I have caffeine, I should be able to manage. How about this? I’ll come to your shop as soon as I’m done with work and cook for us. We’ll have a cosy night in like we had last night.”

“Last night was ‘cosy’ indeed,” I murmur, hoping she catches on to what I’m alluding to.

“It was. I really liked it.” Her lashes flutter with the memories of last night, cheeks tinged pink. Unfortunately, the heartstopping girlish giggle is short-lived and becomes serious too soon. “But while I did, I think we shouldn’t do it again so soon.”

“Agreed,” I respond, mind occupied by the ripples of transformation and the splashes of pain wanting to remember something significant only communicated in incomprehensible flashes.

Distorted.

Like the memories of the forest.

I need to call Jinyoung. He needs to know.

 “What shall we eat tonight?”

The change in subject is welcome, but also a confusing bridge to cross. How can humans go from severe to casual without a care? The aspect of communication has me furrow my brows as I try to work out the mech… work… nuts and bolts behind it. Nevertheless, I answer the question. “I thought you had a plan already.”

The corners of her mouth curl up into a cat-like grin. “I have no idea, so that’s why I’m asking you. You’re a better chef than I am.”

“I’m not that good,” I murmur, my ears lowered like a shy pup. “But I’d like something we can make together.”

“Pancakes?”

“Yes!’’ I bark, leaning in and grabbing the sheets to contain the excitement at cooking together. ‘’Yes, I’d like that!”

A flicker of doubt passes over her face, hesitant in the way she tends to be when it concerns food. However, a second later, she taps me on the nose with a content hum. “Pancakes it is.”

While Y/N showers, I clean the dishes and pull the sheets off of the bed so she can bring them to the laundry. Although, maybe I could do it myself. I’d have to text Jinyoung for instructions since he always does mine, but even then it shouldn’t be too difficult. Humans do laundry all the time. It’s part of their routine and if they can do it, so can I.

I hope.

As I’m making the bed and contemplating the process to get at least the blood stain out of the fabric, my mate walks back into the room. Her wet hair is bundled up in a towel that’s smaller than the one wrapped around her body. The addition of the scents of cherry blossoms and matcha to the blend of summer fruits drives me dizzy as she moves to the wardrobe.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help looking as the towel falls to the floor to reveal her naked body. An appreciative growl unconsciously rises from my throat, a surge of heat culminating between my legs.

Just one more time. I’ll keep myself in check. Behave. I’ll behave.

“Jaebeom,” cheeks flushed, Y/N glances over her shoulder, “don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I shuffle to her side to help her put on her bra by closing the clasps. When they click in place, I place a kiss between her shoulder blades, feeling her shiver against my lips. “I know what we agreed on.”

I wrap my arms around her waist and let my head rest on her shoulder. Eyes closed, I try to keep a clear mind as she scratches me behind the ear.

“It’s not necessarily... that.” Her voice is light, wanting to move past the concerns of last night with humour. “It’s rather the thought I wouldn’t get to leave for the office at all if we go back to bed.”

“You’re right.” I decide to play along, if only to give us both some peace of mind. So, I bury my nose in the side of her neck, nuzzling her and earning myself a bird-like giggle that spreads a nice fuzzy feeling inside. “I wouldn’t let you go. We’d read the day away with coffee.”

“Tea, in your case. Doctor’s orders. I don’t want you bouncing around the place. You’re my calm, well, sort of calm bookish wolf. Not a supercharged husky.”

It’s a lame joke, but nevertheless makes me laugh.

“What will you wear today?” I ask, glancing at the clothes on the hangers.

Here and there, there’s a colourful item in the collection. Withal, the majority of the items are mono… one-toned... black and white items to be switched up with a dark-shaded checkered blouse.

My attention drifts to the long white dress with lemons. The fabric is on the thin side, which makes it suitable for summer or a warm spring.

I’d love to see you in that dress, if only just once.

She pouts her lips. “I was thinking about grey high-waisted jeans with a black button-up shirt and ankle boots.”

“Wear my hoodie,” I whine, upset my… my girlfriend. That sounds nice. My girlfriend. It makes me upset that my girlfriend doesn’t plan on wearing one of the things I gave her. “You like the grey one, right?”

“I do, but-’’

“Then wear it.”

She sighs, shakes her head and turns around to look up at me. “There’s something like a dress code at the office.”

“Don’t care.” I nudge her nose with mine, bark lowered to a woof to persuade her to go with my choice. “You’ll look better. More pretty.”

“If you put a pair of boxers on, I’ll wear the hoodie. Deal?”

“But they’re uncomfortable. I only wore them because Jinyoung told me to.”

“Then I won’t wear the hoodie.” Little devilish will-o’-the-wisps light up her eyes as the corners of her mouth curl up into a taunting grin. “Shame. Now my colleagues won’t get to see I have a boyfriend.”

The tables have flipped since I’m apparently not the only one who’s good at using their charms.

Nevertheless, reluctant to start a fight over this, I let out a compromising chuff. “Okay, fine.”

Humans and their clothes. I like yours, but you’d look even better in mine. Still, I’m only doing this because I want every male at your office and in the city to know you’re mine.

No matter what size they are, clothing is a thing I absolutely haven’t missed. Notwithstanding, to please my mate, I wriggle myself back into the tight short trousers and the loose pants to wear over them. Y/N gives me a warning look when she sees me fumbling with my shirt, hopefully missing out on the obvious clue I secretly hope she’ll let me off easy.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Yes, Jae, also the shirt,” she chastises me like a mother disciplines a rebellious pup. “And the shoes. You don’t want other people to call the cops after seeing a naked man in the streets.” Unaware of the fact I can hear her perfectly even as she mutters under her breath, she adds. ‘’Or me to pick you up at the police station because of it.’’ 

Amused by the funny image the fantastical scenario creates in my mind, I relent. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re both dressed, Y/N makes way for the bathroom to do her makeup. Ignoring my protests it’s unnecessary since there’s nothing to hide or improve to make me love her more, she closes the door behind her and locks it.

There goes the plan of dragging her out of there by the collar to have her scratch my jaw and ear again instead. A much better way to pass the time, if you ask me.

In the meanwhile, I return to the bedroom to take a picture of the damage with my phone and send it to Jinyoung.

Jaebeom: We need to talk.

Immediately, I get a response.

Jinyoung: Yes, we absolutely do. Everything OK?

Jaebeom: Yes, Y/N is fine. Alive. A little shaken, but so am I. Well, we’re more than a little shaken. Fuck, Jinyoung, I don’t know what happened.

Jinyoung: I’ll drop by later today. I have to give a lecture in a bit and have to see a new patient afterwards. He’s going through the reintegration program right now and needs a little extra help.

Jaebeom: Help with what? What is he?

Jinyoung: A wolf. Not a standard case.

Jaebeom: Anything I can help with?

Jinyoung: I think you need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll be at the shop around two.

Footsteps disturb the silence, going from the bathroom to the hallway.

That was quick. Are females always this fast with applying their face?

It’s a funny phrase, ‘applying my face’. Also, it’s the argument the pretty lady used as the final word on the matter. But she already has a face so there’s no need to apply a second like some Greek god.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ears perked, I glance around the corner into the living room and in Y/N’s direction.

“Work?” she answers sheepishly, looking back at me with her head slightly tilted to the side. In her hands is the black trench coat she was about to put on.

Fortunately, she’s kept her makeup natural with a golden brown eyeshadow, a bit of a black line to accentuate her eyes and something to enhance her lashes. It’s a natural look which some of the female customers could learn from with their fake lips or chest that makes them reek of silicone and plastic. Their makeup, often overemphasizing their fake features, doesn’t add to their supposed charm. In fact, it makes me turn my snout away even faster if their attitude already hasn’t.

I’d never offer them coffee or want them around more than once.

But not her.

Not Y/N.

I can’t remember if she wore the same makeup when we met, but I vaguely recall a sense of calm and need for protection alongside a strange recognition. A connection that would make all the puzzle pieces of my life fit together.

The missing last piece.

“Not so fast.” I swiftly move to her side to kiss her forehead. No way I’m letting her go without giving her at least one more.

“There,” I pet her head, griggling and sweeping my tail triumphantly, “now you’re free to go.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without telling you, you know?” She stands on the tip of her toes to peck me on the lips, slightly swaying side to side to keep her balance.

So I lean forward to make it easier for her and chuckle against her lips. “Have a good day at work, Y/N.”

“You too, Jae.”

And with that, she puts on her coat, grabs her bag and opens the front door. She lingers in the doorway, waving half-heartedly as a final word of goodbye.

I wave back, faking a smile to see her off without worry.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

However, the deadline is another story.

The shop is as tranquil as it is on any other day. The quietness of unread words hangs between the shelves, the only noise to disrupt the silence being the rustle of a page being turned. Seated by the window as per usual, listening to the hail in the dim light, I read the time away, but whereas it’s normally a form of amusement and pleasure, it now functions in part to forget this morning’s discovery.

I didn’t mean to pry, but I inspected Y/N’s bookshelves before I left her apartment. There was the usual assortment of classics, but also a lot of Asian fiction, a genre I haven’t delved into too much yet. So, of course with the intention of returning it, I took Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami with me.

She must have read it recently because her fruity scent still lingers on the paper. The summer blend distracts me to the point that the movement of the hands of the clock pass unnoticed in the background.

Regardless of the appointed time, it’s half past two instead of two o’clock that Jinyoung comes in. In his one hand he holds a carrier with two paper cups, the sleeves on them decorated with the silhouette of a black wolf and the name of the café printed in vintage letters beneath the design, the letters spelling out Wolf’s. Judging by the scent, it’s tea the doctor has brought with him. Apple cinnamon for me, since that’s the only one I like, and rooibos for himself.

In his other hand, he holds his bag. One of the claps has either not been fastened before he left or came undone along the way. Whatever the reason, it’s clear he came here in a hurry.

“Sorry I’m late. Christian and I had a lot more to discuss than we thought.” Jinyoung stumbles inside, puts the tea and his bag on the counter, and turns around to lock the door and flip the sign so we can talk in private.

A hint of leather mixed with coffee and wood is mixed in with his own.

Male.

Threat.

Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, I make a mental note to myself to keep this scent away from Y/N. To keep this Christian away from her.

“Jaebeom,” the other male sighs. His tone holds a silent warning of being close to breaking some kind of boundary.

“What?” The answer rolls off the tongue as a growl rather than an actual question. Not that it matters since he must have had a lot worse to endure from me. Besides, it’s not him I’m pissed at so he’s safe.

Although, the wild undertone in his already peculiar personal blend alludes to the opposite.

Has he always smelled like this or is this new? He is human, but then why does my instinct tell me to watch out for him, that there’s more than to him? Strange. 

“He’s no competition. I think he might have imprinted with my colleague, although neither he nor she might be aware of it.” He rolls his eyes. “The gods know whether Gráinne will do anything with it. I wonder if... no, I don’t think either of them told her anything.”

A grim wistfulness stains his voice, which ignites a curiosity about his colleague’s circumstances. Notwithstanding, that story will have to wait until another day and his willingness to tell me.

Still, I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app, and jot down a short reminder to ask about it at a later date.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung steps away from the door, hands me the cup with apple cinnamon tea, and gestures at the worn couch by the window overlooking the west side of the neighbourhood, “we’re here to talk about you. About the picture you sent.”

We move away from the counter to the sofa. A burst of hail spatters against the glass as we sit down.

I’m glad to have something to hold to conceal the shivers running through my body at the image of the claw mark mixed with the memory of what Y/N told me she felt. Or, rather, thought she felt although I’m certain she actually did feel the first ripples of transformation.

For a moment, we sit in silence as I mentally prepare myself for the conversation. Nipping on the tea with my shoulders curled over my chest, I try to reconstruct last night as best I can.

As much as my memory lets me.

To break the... something. There’s an idiom, no, a phrase? A saying.

I don’t know.

Not anymore.

To make it easier, likely noticing the struggle to say anything, Jinyoung speaks up. “There’s more than the photo. You’re leaving things out, things I need to know to help. What aren’t you telling me, Jaebeom?”

“Y/N-” I begin, my breath unsteady as I restart the sentence, “Y/N said she felt my skin move and if I try to remember last night, I can only recall fragments that give me a headache when I try to string them together. Which I can’t.”

He pales, frozen in place as the weird briny scent sours. “That shouldn’t-’’

“Shouldn’t happen,” I finish the remark. 

A horrifying idea arises that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end and has me nervously tapping my thumbs together as I try not to squeeze the cup in my paws. Nonetheless, voice a low woof bordering on a melancholic whine, I tell the doctor what’s on my mind. “I think the pills stopped working. Completely. I- I don’t think-’’

The world stops, shrinks, and strings my chest as tight as a string as I shrink within myself. Each thought evaporates as fast as the flashes in the wolf’s memory, incoherent if meant to be sensible at all.

The snow hasn’t even come.

I can’t leave her alone.

I don’t want to leave this life.

I don’t want to go just when being human again starts to get good.

I don’t want to be the old me again.

  “I think so too,” Jinyoung agrees grimly. “If I increase the silver and nightshade or the doses it will kill you.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp with focus as he poses the question I’ve been wondering about myself. “Does she know what you are?”

I shake my head. I might be her weirdo wolf guy, but she’d never believe me if I told her what I really am. Besides, werewolves are the stuff of fiction these days.

We’re no longer seen as a real threat nor have the power and status we used to have in the days of yore. We are devoid of an identity acknowledged by humans.

But, if I don’t possess an identity, am I really here?

Alive?

Or dead like the wolf inside?

Paradise is calling, the song of the forest playing like a red thread through my broken memory.

Beckoning me home.

The woods are calling.

And I must not go.

Jinyoung’s new question pulls me out of my reverie, just in time before the train of thought would crash and burn. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” I take a sip of the sweet tea, to have a second of bliss and enjoy a new human pleasure.

Another happiness I discovered a little too late.

“Will you at least tell her about your meds?” Even though she’s seen me take them, Y/N doesn’t know what they’re for. But, then again, did she look at the label?

Regardless of whether she did or not, she’s perhaps not truly ignorant to the reason I have to take them. After all, she thinks they combat my amnesia, which is partially true. It’s a half-truth.

But the real reason is a secret I intend to keep.

“No,” I repeat, determined in my answer regardless of the world spinning out of control. “I won’t tell her.”

“She deserves that much, doesn’t she? She’s your girlfriend, Jay.’’ Although his features have softened, the doctor’s voice rises to a fierce bark as he reinforces his point. ‘’Your mate.”

“I can’t tell her,’’ I retort, my bark closer to a growl than a civilized answer. Tears brim on the edge of my lashes, obscuring my vision in spite of my attempts to blink them away. The vision of Y/N by herself in the snow, on her knees in the middle of the orchard, blocks my throat and makes breathing harder than it already was. 

The vision changes to the image of a spring day close to summer, warm enough for her to wear the dress with the lemons. She’s seated in the same position between the trees which are now white and pink with blossom. However, whereas her belly was flat before, it’s now swollen, pregnant with pups.

My pups?

No, I have to stay here.

I have to survive the winter.

I have to be here if I ever change my mind and want to start a pack with her.

I must be here.

But the question is whether I actually can.

At this rate, I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

But I know enough to explain why I’m reluctant to tell my pretty lady anything. ‘’I can’t tell her, because the news will hurt her and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Plus, what am I supposed to say? I’m a wolf that turned into a man and is slowly dying, going back to his old form in which it... he. Am human. In which he’ll be stuck until it- He! Am human! Until he dies?

“Y/N has to know about this, Jaebeom.’’ A hand on my shoulder makes me look up from the floor to the man next to me. ‘’How about I talk to her, tell her what you told me and discuss what our options are as well as a plan for the future?”

“You’re right.” I let out a mirthless griggle. “Fuck, I hate it when you are. But… But how will you… explain, uhm, explain… this- me! How will you explain me? What I am? For all she cares, werewolves are my- myth- fic-’’ I throw my head back, frustrated I can’t find the right word or properly speak.

Jinyoung gives me an encouraging squeeze, kindheartedly chuckling at my failure. “I know what you mean. Nobody comes into our world willingly or at least without a good reason. I think your... situation is enough of the latter for her to get involved too. She doesn’t have to join the branch, I’ll leave that up to her. But, if Y/N decides to believe me, or us for that matter, she’ll at least have a community to rely on when you, you know, you’re...”

“When I’m gone.’’ The hesitance to state the facts makes me grimace and my tone sharper than intended. ‘’We both know where this is heading so just say it.”

“Fine,’’ the doctor puts his hands up as if he’s at the risk of being shot ‘’when you’re gone.”

“What’ll happen to the shop?” I gesture around the paper paradise, changing the topic slightly. Books have been another treasure of humanity I will forever be grateful for, especially since I hopefully have created a legacy with them that’s worth keeping.

The doctor glances around, a somber expression on his face. “Either the university will keep it and maintain it as a potential workplace in the reintegration program or sell it off. I don’t know, real estate doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.”

“Ah, I see.” I lower my head, gaze averted to the half-empty cup in my paws.

Funny how I once thought of making this a family business or to have at least my pup’s name on the spine of one of these books. If I ever had them, would they like to be a writer? Would Y/N tell them their absent father, I... I love... loved to read?

I force myself to forget the thought, swallow despite having a dry mouth, and shake my head. “Thank you. For wanting to tell her. She’ll come over tonight, so-’’

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll text her so we can meet at a later date. She just returned from a business trip and had quite the evening with you. You two deserve a bit of rest.”

“But what if...”

It’s unlikely, but what if it happens again? What if I spin out of control tonight?

“Keep your temper in check and try to suppress your instinct,” Jinyoung answers matter-of-factly.

So, no sex.

Although the unspoken implication doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t help but feel disappointed even though Y/N and I agreed on not doing it again so soon. Notwithstanding, it would be a lie to say I didn’t want to do it again this morning. But then there was the pool of blood and the amnesia that ruined our morning bliss.

All the same, flashes of what I do remember from last night replay in my mind.

They say once you’ve had a wolf, you never go back. Maybe because I won’t let you.

She looked beautiful, tears glistening in her eyes, equally as beautiful as her meek whimpers. She’s so small and fragile, easy to overpower.

To conquer.

“Your mind’s…. gutter again, isn’t it?” A groan sounds from somewhere on the side, distant like a faint echo

I was inside her.

In spite of the weird plastic, she felt nice.

Warm.

Wet.

I replay the image of her whimpering on the sheets as I looked down at her over and over. My hand on her cheek and Y/N keeping it in place. I should have used that second to dive down and worship her soft breasts more.

I could have bitten her there. Just a small bite on the side.

The snapping of a pair of fingers before my eyes interrupts the pleasant reverie. A bit offended, I snap around to growl at whoever took the pleasure of a cherished memory away.

 Only to face Jinyoung, who sighs and looks down at the bulge in my pants before pursing his lips with an exasperated knowing expression as he looks up. 

Scrambling to regain my composure and hardly remembering what he said, I answer as best I can. “No!”

“Then why are you drooling?”

[charlotte-lavender]

Spring Blossoms, as does Love (pt. 5)

📷

Summary: Y/N and Kuroo share their first night together in what is now both of their home. In the morning, Y/N faces some anxiety about meeting Kuroo's volleyball team, whom he considers his friends.

A/N: Hey y'all! I hope you missed me, but I'm back!!! I was going to publish chapters five and six tonight, but decided against that, because it's almost three a.m. as I am writing this. (Sleep? We don't know her.) Also, let me know who you would like included on the team! I will write anyone in as a supporting character, just make sure that they have enough screentime to base some characterisation off of. Should I do MSBY? or Karasuno? Aoba Johsai? Let me know! Also, I know that this author's note is already long, but I just wanted to mention again briefly that I am writing for new fandoms! I will be adding a list to my pinned post, so go check it out, and if you have a request, please submit! Finally, remember I use British English, start in Y/N's POV, and stay safe! Love y'all!

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pro·ver·bi·al /prəˈvərbēəl/ 📷Learn to pronounce

adjective (of a word or phrase) referred to in idiom or expression. "I'm going to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb"

Coming home to Kuroo was a new experience. When I get home, I'm covered in dirt and sweat, and I usually jump right into the shower before putting on sweatpants and making dinner. Today, however, was different for obvious reasons. "I'm home!" I announce to the house as I enter. Dropping all of my stuff on the floor, I turn and see Kuroo looking at me from the counter, his laptop open and papers strewn about beside him. "Hi, Kuroo. How was your day?"

"Just fine. I got all of my stuff in, the important things at least. How about you?"

"That client of mine is really nice, but they have lots of property. It always takes me forever to get to everything."

"Aww, I'm sorry. I got takeout if you would like it. It's in the fridge."

"Thanks babe, I appreciate it."

Kuroo gives me a quick hug before releasing me to go eat.

**POV SWITCH**

After Y/N was done eating, he moved to the couch, and I went and curled him up next to me. "Tell me about your day." I ask him before realising that he was moving to get up.

"Sorry, babe, I really need to shower. It's almost seven, and you have work tomorrow, right?" He says, getting up and stretching his arms over his head, exposing his lower stomach for a quick second.

"Yeah, I do. But I want to make sure you're comfortable. It'll be a long day with the team tomorrow."

"Well, how about you take a shower with me? No funny business, though. I'm too tired."

"Okay, I'll be up in five. Just gonna save my document and get my paperwork put away."

He walks away up the stairs, and I hear the tap turn on. I feel my face begin to flush scarlet. He wants to shower with me? Since when is he that suave? Usually, he's a dork, but...

Realising that I've taken too long, I close my laptop and head upstairs. Opening the door to the bathroom, I see his clothes on the floor and his silhouette behind the shower curtain. I slowly strip and pull away the curtain, and he turns to look at me. Stepping into the shower, he wordlessly motions for me to turn around and get my head wet. He then reaches for the bottle of shampoo, squirts some on his hands, and begins to massage it into my hair.

**POV SWITCH**

After the shower, curled up on our bed, I finally feel calm. Wow. Our bed. That feels really weird to say. "Kuroo, babe," I whisper out to the dim room.

"Yeah?"

"I-," I take a deep breath. "I love you..." Realising the gravity of what I had just said, I snap my hands up to cover my mouth. Kuroo, having seen the whole scene, wordlessly reaches down and takes ahold of my wrist. Tugging on it gently, he eventually forces it to part company with my lips, instantly replacing it with his. Grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to his side, I melt deeper into his kiss. After what felt like a blissful eternity, Kuroo pulls away and whispers, "I love you too, cutie. Now get some rest. I want you to come meet some people tomorrow."

The following day comes a lot sooner than expected. My eyes flutter open to Kuroo's shining smile. "What time is it?" I ask him.

"Six o'clock. Now, get up, I have coffee."

"Yay!" I mumble, somehow managing to sound both annoyed and excited.

"So, Y/N, today I thought that I'd introduce you to the team." I sputter into my coffee, but Kuroo keeps talking. "Me and the guys that I coach, we aren't that different in age, so we get along quite well. It'll be more like meeting a bunch of my friends than some random group of college kids."

Hearing that, I sigh in relief but then begin to hyper-focus on something. Friends. They're Kuroo's friends. Oh no. Insecurities and past experiences begin to overwhelm me as Kuroo pulls me up and nudges me in the direction of the bathroom, promises of breakfast vaguely heard over the roar of thoughts in my head. I can't help but feel as though I'm stuck in a current and just along for the ride.

**POV SWITCH**

Packing lunch into small containers for our busy day is what I'm doing when Y/N stumbles into the kitchen. His hair, while dried, is a rat's nest, and he only has on one sock. Knowing where this is going, I pause and walk over to him. He freezes but lets me hug him. As I bury my head in his hair and smell his shampoo, I ask, "What's all this about?"

"Wh-what are you talking about, babe? I'm excellent." Y/N says unconvincingly.

"Come on, Y/N. You only ever get this frantic when you're anxious about something. You know you can talk to me, right? Is it about meeting the team?" I see him freeze, and I know that I've hit the proverbial* nail right on the head. "What about today is making you anxious?"

"I'm worried that if I don't make a good impression, they'll all convince you to dump me because they don't think I'm worthy of you, or something like that."

"Y/N, babe, I've told you once, and I'll say to you as many times as you need to hear it, I don't care what anyone says about our relationship. I will never, ever leave you. Besides, knowing them, they'll worship you like a god and wonder how you ended up with a guy like me."

"Thank you, Kuroo. I love you so, so much, okay? I can't wait to get a better view of your life."

Hearing that, I gave Y/N a quick peck on the cheek and ducked back behind the counter, placing our lunch in a bag while he finished getting ready.

**POV SWITCH**

Kuroo is a surprisingly good cook. That's what I'm thinking about, the remnants of breakfast churning happily in my stomach while he rolls down the road towards the city. I don't like the city. I don't go to the city. Somehow, though, this all feels okay.

[technobladetimestamps]

Nov 16 Stream Timestamps

Timestamps from Technoblade’s “THE REVOLUTION (dream SMP)”

Link to my youtube comment with all of the timestamps x

Timestamps with hyperlinks below

02:13  “This is a surprise tool which will help us later” / thumbnail isn’t foreshadowing / video thumbnails have to be big / stream thumbnails can be detailed 05:17  “The traitor is actually Jschlatt” / firework crafting 09:50  “The ratio is impeccable” 13:23  “Dream’s in the game! My audience retention rate” / vc with Tubbo & Quackity / traitor Jschlatt theory / “Are you high?” “A little” 14:47  “You’re a bit of a wildcard” “I am the most consistent character on the entire server” / “What’s this about getting into power” / “We’ll burn this bridge when we get to it” 15:54  “You really are such an English major” / “You’re an idiom” / malaphor / “I’m actually speaking twice as much English as you guys” 18:07  “I think Thunder is overcompensating in the chat” / “Where can you see me” “In my heart” (Karl & Quackity) / Karl not leaving vc 20:33  vc with Niki / “Did Tubbo just leave me? I spaced out for 2 seconds” / “You can’t call everyone the traitor” “I can & will” 22:45  “You know it’s an event when Skeppy’s here” / “You know it’s a big deal when Georgenotfound wakes up” / “Everyone leaves me” 23:31  explaining the traitor thing to Niki / “Maybe I’m a sleeper agent” / had to kill Tubbo 25:03  nothing happened with that creeper / Fundy interrogating Niki / “Why did I train her for MCC” 25:54  “Even YOU’RE leaving me” / sad music / “I’m sitting here with 203k viewers & it’s not enough for any of these streamers to bear talking to me for more than 60 seconds” / Skeppy joins vc to immediately leave 28:50  Karl has a gift for Techno / Karl is just here for the animatic 32:21  “At least the chat won’t leave me” / pays for his music 35:01  “I’m going to destroy the government so bad” / “I hate all of the farming updates on skyblock” 37:45  joining a vc / “I just got stood up in like 4...conversations in rapid succession” / “My new years resolution was to make friends & it’s november & I’ve made zero headway” / Eret switches sides 41:53  Ender chest setup / worried about hotbar management / potions > shields   43:13  vc with allies / “Karl you are literally the biggest third wheel I have ever seen” 45:03  angering the dogs / trident combo 47:13  “D!ck with one ball” (Tubbo) 50:25  “Let’s hope Wil overslept like [George]” 53:09  recruiting Eret / “If you fight on our side we’ll make you the King of Burger King” / “He’ll be an executive citizen” / “I’m surrounded by idiots” 54:58  putting Schlatt on the allies list / “Schlatt is an alcoholic high on protein power” (Fundy) 56:47  can’t trust Eret / “I hate it when you’re right” (Tubbo) / Wilbur joins vc 59:50  having a moment with Hubert / “Not even the mobs like me” / sad music / “I just gained 8k subscribers the sadness is gone” / cow pit exp farm 1:02:57  vc with Niki / “I’m going to join the other vc AHHHHH” 1:05:02  “Once everyone meets up...I have something prepared” / “Technoblade when are you not ready?” “When I joined the server” 1:09:38  “Who do you take me for? Of course I’ve read the Art of War. It’s written by Mozart” / battle planning 1:12:18  “This is the betrayal...happening very slowly” 1:13:35  Pan1 / “This revolution is so doomed” 1:15:29  Dream attack / Quackity dies 1:18:07  “Agree Retweet” / “Violence is the only universal language” / “i have a supply” / “Why do you talk in upwards inflections constantly?” 1:19:57  Techno not getting to talk / “He took it all by force didn’t he” / “Fear into Ear” 1:23:50  Techno telling everyone he has a stash twice / distributing blue / mushroom the fox 1:26:49  Tommy talking over Techno again / “Stop going off on your tangents” “We have food at home” 1:29:30  vault reveal / Tubbo stealing emeralds / secret chest 1:32:40  “Shut up bro you are green as shit” (Tommy) / “Everyone give me back my stuff you don’t deserve it” 1:34:41  no netherite swords / “Who’s the traitor” “Promise we won’t be mad” 1:36:31  battle / Technoblade trident maneuvering / giving rocket launchers to Tubbo & Tommy 1:40:27  killing Karl / Dream bringing out the end crystals / fighting invis Dream / purpled switches sides 1:43:57  Dream wants to talk / 309k / group photos 1:46:08  vc with Dream / “But only if my enemy insists” / in the van with Schlatt / “What are you doing in my drug van? It better not be drugs” / Tommy preparing to shoot Schlatt 1:54:42  “We won” / “We killed an old man with heart problems! It only took 20 of us!” / President Innit / subscribe to Technoblade sign 1:55:57  Dream & Techno talk in chat / Tommy speech / “It was meant to be” / “I don’t think anyone is bowing to Tommyinnit” / “Karl don’t be weird” / Skeppy has a disc 1:59:06  Techno being apprehensive on mute / Tommy makes Wilbur President / “I’ll be the president” “I’m gonna veto that” / “Techno...you’ve taught me that government is not the way to go” / Wilbur makes Tubbo president 2:03:20  “I’m not sure I like where this is going x2” / “I’m not sure this is a good ending” / “Team chaos” “Perhaps” 2:06:20  Techno shoots Tubbo / Philza joins / “You think Schlatt was the cause of your problems? No. It was government” / speech gets interrupted / “The government ends here, I’ll kill it myself!” 2:09:23  Phil kills Wilbur / techno yelling for silence / “Tommy you just did a coup...& instilled yourself as president” 2:12:11  “If you want to be a hero THAN DIE LIKE ONE” / wither spawning / killing his former allies 2:15:09  post fight talks / “There will be no new government today. It will be over my dead body” / “Techno was not the traitor” 2:18:50  “I need to increase the crater that is L’Manberg so that no country can rise in its place” / “Mom says it’s my turn on the flame bow” 2:23:51  “What I’m doing right now is small scale. This is the work of an individual. This is nothing compared to the cruelty governments all around the world [inflict]...systematically” / “Llamas are the primary victims of war” / “I just wanna be apart of the explosion” (George) 2:27:06  Techno joins vc / connor joins the server / “I hope you’re proud of yourself Techno” “I kinda am” / Jack Manifold (Thunder) being broke / netherite armor 2:32:30  “Beach episode” / Techno accidentally joins the L’Manberg vc 2:35:16  the base is compromised / “There’s no way Technoblade would put a clock there if it didn’t mean anything” / got robbed 2:37:37  “If you’re going to ask me how I got all these emerald & arrows that’s a story for another day” / explaining the bedrock / “I can give everyone stuff & it’ll be such a flex” 2:40:24  Greek mythology 2:41:45  The Golden Apple / “They didn’t use discord back then they used skype, so can’t invite Eris” / “Zeus the god of feminism” 2:46:02  Eret recruiting Techno to kill George / joining vc / “Let’s stop him before he gets land” / Awesamdude proposing a fight 2:49:08  “No one can kill me I’m invincible” (logs out) / Dream literally names the turtle potions Sam thinks he hasn’t heard of / “I’m at soup” / “It’s not smack talk he just has that many items” 2:53:06  “Stab him Dream, I’ll shout encouraging words” / Techno fighting Bad & Ant 2:56:23  Dream wins / “I think there was this Dream guy attacking you with some sort of weapon” 3:00:11  turtle potions / Dream hyping up Techno about fighting BBH / Badlands negotiating with George 3:04:34  vc with Philza 3:07:00  spider farm afk’ing / lagging Quackity’s computer 3:09:06  smp earth / Phil only logged on to back Techno up 3:10:32  killing George / “I’m gonna drop his armor off don’t jump me” / not fighting Dream 3:13:00  vc with Karl & Phil / Karl definitely not starting a government / “Chat that was the boring part, don’t leave” / 320k / “Why do we keep scheduling these on Monday?” 3:16:18  “I don’t even want to think about how famous Tommy will be in the future” / “I get a tad bitter” / covid is good for youtubers but obviously bad / “I’m so good at socially distancing” 3:19:51  “Aren’t you tired of being nice Philza? Don’t you just wanna go crazy” / “You should be wary of the old in a profession where people die young” / vc with Eret 3:21:47  “What if you built a slightly larger throne next to it?” /  “How are they paranoid of a mole but the guy with a track record of being a traitor gets no questions asked” 3:25:47  “I’m gonna place a block at the bottom & kill you instantly” / reverse mlg /  emerald rich even with Tubbo’s theft 3:27:57  “I’ll allow it” / upstairs chests robbed / Eret disconnects with the book 3:32:04  armor sabotage bc he thought it’d be 1v5 / crystals are mutually assured destruction / Wilbur afraid of tnt getting blown up early 3:34:11  the diary was actually Eret’s / “He’s gonna tell everyone who I have a crush on. Nooo” / reading the 100 page book / “Can I not win here?” “No” 3:40:14  “This stream has released more serotonin in my brain than the last 6 months combined” / revolution was overcrowded / could improve the crater 2:43:09  “Awkward ten minute period where I’m just sitting there watching them set up a new government but I can’t kill them yet” / Carl is missing 3:44:34  “The one time Technoblade is gonna roleplay & they talk over him” / “CARL” / “As long as Sapnap isn’t the one that took him there’ll still be hope” 3:46:10  “Once you start using end crystals it’s the only pvp that matters & end crystal pvp is so lame” / Webtoons 3:49:10  “What’s going to happen to you & WIlbur now?” “I don’t know, I think I’m chill with Wilbur” / “The only thing that changed is my voice. Zero personal growth” / lines from the first speech that got interrupted / “King George is trending booo” 3:52:00  1 million twitter followers / “O god it’s been four hours...I am not built for this” / did a 13 hour stream once / sub growth goals 3:56:30  “What the heck is Phil watching”

[icehot13]

ok there was a joke in the last chapter about a joint cara/leia and din/boba wedding, so like.... here it is!!

                 Somehow, Boba is getting ready alongside Cara, on his wedding day. He never pictured that. But also, he’s never pictured getting married. Not in a bad way, not like he never wanted to get married. He has always wanted to find someone. He’s just never thought he could find someone that would want to marry him.

               Also, he never thought Cara would be part of the whole thing. A joint wedding overall is a weird idea, and Din looked apprehensive when proposing it to Boba.

               “It’s just,” Din had said, biting his lip, “it’s what my people do. Because blessings come in pairs, that’s the idiom. Bad news arrives alone, but blessings come in pairs.” He’d paused, looked down. “I don’t remember how to say it on our language,” he’d mumbled, and his ears were turning slightly red. And Boba had understood, suddenly, that Din wasn’t talking about the Mandalorians. He was talking about the planet of his birth, of his family, and he wanted his marriage to feel like home. He’d wanted Boba to feel it, too.

               “Of course,” Boba had said, because he’ll do anything for Din, anything, and he knows what it’s like to feel marooned from a culture.

               So Boba is getting ready, and Cara is here. Boba would have thought it made more sense to have this in literally any other arrangement, but it’s how things have turned out. Din is walking Leia down the aisle, because Leia was brokenhearted that her father wasn’t around to do it, and Cara isn’t with them because it’s bad luck for her to see the bride before the wedding day, and Boba suspects she’d rather be alone than with him, but there’s only two rooms, unless one of them waits in the hallway. Boba couldn’t exactly see Leia wanting to spend her wedding morning with him, given his involvement in her pre-Cara life. Honestly, Boba just wants to be married, already, wants to be at the altar and see how at-home Din looks amidst a tradition from his home planet. That will make it worth it.

               “Weird, huh?” Cara says, standing in front of the mirror. Boba’s sitting on the small sofa, fidgeting with the sleeve of his suit.

               “If you say one more time it’s weird to see my face,” he warns, and Cara snickers.

               “It’s weird seeing all of you, then,” she says. “Like, on my wedding day?”

               “Yeah.” Boba pauses. “Sorry.”

               “You don’t have to be sorry,” Cara says, “I just mean like, whoa, weird, you know? It’s cute Din wants this so much. He’s big into tradition, isn’t he?”

               “He sure is.” Boba should have taken the baby with him, that would make this less awkward. The baby is with Kuiil, though, out in the gardens. Probably stuffing frogs into its little mouth. The thought makes Boba smile.

               “Are you nervous?” Cara asks, and Boba considers.

               “No.” Din is his. Din has always been his. Boba’s just taking on his proper title as Din’s husband. “Are you?”

               “Kind of, I guess.” Cara paces a little, and Boba watches her go back and forth. “I guess I’m always like, a little bit nervous? I mean, how can you be enough for someone forever, you know?”

               It’s not surprising she’s nervous, Boba thinks; Leia did marry someone before, and that wasn’t forever. He feels like he’s not supposed to point that out.

               “You don’t have to worry about being enough,” Boba says, “you’re – you’re everything. How can you not be enough, when you’re everything?” It’s how he feels about Din, after all. Din is everything. Is Boba’s heart and Boba’s home, and the thought that he wouldn’t be enough of something is laughable.

               Cara is staring at him. Boba wonders if he’s said the wrong thing, especially when he sees she looks like she might cry. Cara. Crying. He’s that bad at this.

               “What the fuck, Fett?” she says, but it sounds affectionate, which is weird, from her. “Have you always been this thoughtful? And you’ve just been hiding it from me?”

               “I don’t know,” Boba mutters, shrugs, looks away. “I just. This is the only thing that makes sense to me. Him. You don’t marry someone because you think they’ll be enough for you, you marry them because you found yourself in loving them.”

               Cara blinks at him for a few moments. “Thank you,” she says, soft. “That makes me feel a lot better, believe it or not.” Boba shrugs, keeps staring at the floor. “I’m really glad he found you,” she says.

               The wedding starts twenty minutes later; Boba follows Cara to the little church, where there is the strangest assortment of people he’s probably ever seen. Han Solo attending Boba’s wedding is the funniest thing Boba’s seen in his entire life, but here he is, because it’s also Leia’s wedding and because their son Ben insisted his dad come. Boba hopes Han hates it, personally. Across the aisle from him is Kuiil, the child sitting in his lap, clutching what looks like an entire branch from a shrub; its thing lately is grabbing onto things and refusing to ever let go, and so far their only response is to just let the kid keep it until it’s so inconvenienced it drops whatever its holding. Last week, it carried a spatula for four days straight. Luke is there, another surprising guest Boba never would have seen coming in a million years. The Armorer is officiating, standing at the centre of the traditional double arch; Boba imagines she never thought she’d be part of anything to do with a Fett.

               “Okay,” Cara whispers, and Boba looks at her.

               “What do I do? Like… how long do I wait?” he asks, and she smiles at him.

               “Come here, stupid,” she says, holds out her arm. “Walk me down the aisle before you marry my best friend.”

               Somehow, this has Boba swallowing back tears, but he takes her arm. It’s a relief, really, to be walking beside her, standing beside her at the front, before all those people who hate him, all those people looking at him and wondering what Din is doing with him.

               “Look,” Cara whispers over her shoulder to him, and he looks. She’s gazing at Leia in her white dress, but all Boba can see is Din.

               Enough. It’s a funny concept. When Boba looks at Din, he doesn’t wonder if they’re enough for each other. Whatever Boba is, whatever he’s been, this is all that matters: he is Din’s. It’s not a matter of being enough or not enough, it’s just what he is, this is everything, and Din, Din is everything.

[oonajaeadira]

I'm gonna come in and add my own age issue here, which might sound weird, because it's the opposite of the earlier ones. But I don't want to give away my age because I'm worried I won't be taken seriously. Especially since I naturally gravitate towards "older" blogs here. (But they are nothing but welcoming so why should I worry?)

I guess I really related to what you said in one ask: "As someone who has always--from childhood--acted older than my age and looked younger than it (although, my reactions run the gamut), I've walked through my life watching peoples' opinions shift right in front of my face as they hear a number and recalibrate."

That is very much true for me too, and I try to hide my age both here and irl because I want to be taken seriously. Sometimes it's already hard as it is just because I'm small in size and, you know, a woman.

Listen. Nobody is too old or young to come across societal bias. I have spent a lot of my life watching people condescend to me only for me to outperform their expectations and I watch the *bink bink* in their eyes as their internal gears process. It's like I can hear them thinking, "oh, you're smart/capable/not as inexperienced as you look." It's doubly worse when dealing with certain kinds of men. (Again! Not all men! So many good mans in the world! And, yet so many ding dongs. Sigh.)

Human brain society is built on shorthand--idioms and codes and unspoken rules and assumptions --and it's easy for people to walk through their lives on their social programming without stopping to examine every unique circumstance. Our biology tries to cheat us that way.

Not everyone "acts their age". Hells. I would argue that really NOBODY acts their age. It's just not a thing. But we all assume that it is.

But I'm sorry that you feel you have to hide part of who you are in order to feel respected. You deserve respect and the unbiased time for someone to learn who you are based on who you are, not just your physical shell or how long you've walked around in it.

(I mean, I have to do the responsible adult thing here and say that if you're under 18 you probably shouldn't be visiting more adult blogs. That is the only instance where the number is important only because legal junk. Governments don't care about your maturity level or anything about you. They just draw a line in the sand and call it law and they can eff up lives over a number. But. Even if you're a young'n, as long as you're respecting those around you, you have the right to be respected for you and not just a number you carry.)

[coreymichaelsmithson]

The Lights of Treasure Island

For the past few years, I've been living on a barrier island named Anastasia. A sandy, sleepy, slow place, just off the coast of our nation's oldest city, Anastasia Island features tall palm trees and gorgeous beaches, along with excellent sushi and a surprisingly active arts scene. Its most splendid attraction, though, is an old lighthouse, one striped with a black and white spiral and crowned by a bright red lamphouse. It towers commandingly over the dunes, casting a long beam that can be seen from nearly anywhere in town.

I've always liked lighthouses. In days of old we set these magnificent lanterns on the edge of the sea, to guide sailors through dark and treacherous waters, to show them the way home. Lighthouses represent so many things we need: safety, comfort, reliability, navigation. But in my mind, these structures hold the magic of candles, the magic of illumination itself. When we speak of enlightenment, we may be speaking specifically of rationality and discovery, but we are also conjuring images of light prevailing over darkness. And in this way the lighthouse emerges as a powerful symbol of the spirit.  

This February, for my 47th birthday, I explored the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where I saw several amazing lighthouses. Impressive as they were, I did not think they quite compared with the singular majesty of the structure that stands on Anastasia Island. After a harrowing return journey, one in which I drove with no working alternator (and sometimes without headlights or windshield wipers) through nearly 700 miles of tornadic thunderstorms, I felt the most profound relief when I finally crested the peak of the SR-312 bridge, which connects my island to the mainland, and I saw those familiar black and white stripes in the distance, signaling that I had made it home. Less than half a year later, my feelings about this special lighthouse of mine would be forever changed by a chance encounter.

Just under two months ago, I received a brief and rather unremarkable message from a stranger on Scruff, a queer dating platform that I use. One might charitably call Scruff "a social club for discerning gentlemen" ... it appeals to men who are hirsute, meaty, perpetually horny, and even a few of us freaks who defiantly straddle the line between "butch" and "nancy". Since this man's profile didn't really offer all that much information, and his one available picture wasn't particularly compelling, I promptly tucked his message away and forgot about it, and went for my customary sunset walk on the beach.

I live exactly one mile from the southern boundary of a state park, which offers a four-mile stretch of pristine dune habitat, completely undeveloped and sparsely occupied. The only man-made objects in sight are a few empty lifeguard stands, the city's sightseeing pier, a radio antennae, and our lighthouse. Dolphins gather here, their dorsal fins rising and falling between the breakers. Squadrons of pelicans fly in tight formations, gliding only a few feet above the water's surface. Terns and sea turtles nest in its sands, and I've found many shark teeth among the sea shells and ghost crab burrows. This is a special place, a holy place, and I've made a daily ritual of enjoying its cloudscapes and crepuscular glow as I explore the edge between land and sea.

After a pleasant stroll, maybe an hour or so of blissful meditation, I turned around and started heading back towards my car when I caught sight of a man who had just walked out of the water and was now drying himself off. We locked eyes.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Arrestingly beautiful, the kind of handsome that stops you dead in your tracks. I just kind of gulped for a second, and then walked right up to him, with an audacity that I didn't even know I possessed, turned on every damn bulb in my Christmas tree, and murmured, "Hi!", making the word shimmer like tinsel. In a short amount of time, I learned that he was a Russian artist, born in St. Petersburg but living in Moscow. I had met him during a brief pause on his long drive from Jacksonville to Key West; he had only intended on stopping in St. Augustine long enough to explore our old Spanish fort and take a swim on our nicest beach. He possessed a keen intellect, a quick wit, and a laudable command of English. As we spoke, he kept giving me flashes of the most mischievous smile, and so when I finally asked him what he was grinning about, he revealed that he was the same man who had messaged me earlier. This came as a surprise, for I hadn't recognized him at all ... I had only been drawn in now by his gorgeous movie-star looks, the undeniable sex appeal of his dripping wet body, and some weird sense of destiny.

We talked. We talked some more. We went to dinner. And then he stayed for the better part of three days.

In my bed, we enjoyed the most astonishing kind of communion. Our nights and mornings were filled with such tenderness ... soft eyes, soft caresses, fearlessly sustained gazes, the kind of kisses that tell a hundred little stories. One by one, various secrets were brought to light. We shared toe-curling carnality, thunderous climaxes, an unalloyed and unembarrassed intimacy. We shared joy.

On our second day together, I took him to the top of Anastasia Island's lighthouse. We lingered on each landing to kiss and giggle, and our embraces grew more intense. We felt a stronger and stronger pull towards one another. I knew that this was more than just a simple infatuation. By the time we reached the lantern's round balcony, and stepped out together onto the most spectacular view of St. Augustine, I knew that I was falling in love.

I don't blame you for rolling your eyes at this. You may, in your justifiable cynicism, think it ridiculous for a man to utter such a powerful phrase within such a short time. But if you've ever known me, you've come to recognize by now my considerable capacity for love. My passions and appetites may rise to the surface with little interference, and will I admit some recklessness in how I've invested my energies, but I am no fool. I am neither naïve nor desperate. And I can say in all sincerity that what we felt then was, at least for a short while, genuine love.

From the top of the lighthouse we could see everything. The old downtown, with its mixture of colonial and Spanish Renaissance buildings. The Matanzas River, named for the 1565 massacre of shipwrecked Huguenots, separating my island from the mainland. The harbor of St. Augustine, crowded with sailboats and pleasure craft, a forest of masts. And then the sea, blue and inviting, the sea that would soon separate us. We held each other tightly and looked upon the Atlantic together, casting our dreams towards the horizon, into this vista of seemingly endless possibility and hope.

On our last night together, we took a naked midnight swim in my pool, which is lit from above by a row of blue lights. A light and warm rain fell on our heads as we twined our legs underwater, and our ardor cast a web of rippling refractive patterns on the pool's concrete bottom. He looked me in the eyes, kissed me with the utmost gentleness, and formally invited me to come stay with him in Moscow. I accepted with my new magic word, "Да."

The following morning, our parting was so sweet, and so warm. We solidified our promise to be reunited. He drove down to Key West, enjoying a music playlist I assembled for him, and then he flew up to New York for a week's visit with old friends. After he returned to Moscow, we embarked on a passionate long-distance affair via telephone and social media apps.

I plunged right away into the Russian language, practicing for hours a day, rediscovering my knack for linguistics. I bought books on the cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, books on Russian verbs, flashcards, a portable dictionary. I subscribed to online learning programs, put apps on my phone, read up on the country's history. I was all in, bringing every available bit of my enthusiasm, work ethic, and inventiveness to the challenge. Every day, I would send him sweet little videos or text messages ... sharing good news, conveying small but significant events of my daily life, showing off my rapidly accelerating grasp of Russian. I sent him notes of encouragement, pictures of me looking my cutest, small but enjoyable details of my life on Anastasia Island. I sent him a short clip of the black skimmers that sliced back and forth across the thin swash of the surf, their beaks dipping into half an inch of water. I sent him pelicans, beach crabs, waves, paintings, difficult words, idioms, cute terms of venery, sunsets, clouds, kisses, evidence of my changing body. I sent him love, every day. "каждый день," I promised him, placing my hand on my heart, "каждый день." Every day.

My love deepened by the hour. I know this is going to sound so gushy and gross, but I really pushed the lighthouse metaphor pretty hard, calling myself "твой смотритель маяка" or "your lighthouse keeper". I meant this in all sincerity, without a drop of bathos or schmaltz. Our time atop the lighthouse was sacred to me. I promised him that I would keep its light burning bright.

Over time, however, things shifted. As my interest grew, his began to dwindle. He sent less and less of himself, slowly removing from our conversation his humor, his sexuality, his warmth, his trust. It was like seeing a fully assembled jigsaw puzzle get lifted into the air, and watching all the pieces falling out ... at first only a few at a time, then more and more, until there was only a jagged perimeter where there had once been a lovely picture.

The nadir came when he lost his temper with me over my visa. I was confused about the process, as the Russian consulate and other sources were providing patchy and often conflicting information, and his own explanations changed from day to day. During our last video chat, I asked one too many questions, and he snapped. He rolled his eyes, effectively called me stupid and childish, and hung up on me three times. My many attempts at reconciliation were completely rebuffed. It was both baffling and extraordinarily painful.

Two days after our fight he was in a terrible car accident, one from which he miraculously escaped unharmed. He posted on social media an impassioned paragraph about the event, and how it drew into sharp focus all the love he had in his life, how he felt that he wasn't deserving of such love, how grateful he was for his friends. Yet instead of contacting me, inviting me into this experience, or trying to repair our frayed connection, he spent his evenings logging back into Scruff, the aforementioned dating app. He continued to ignore me, choosing instead to pursue (or perhaps refresh) other opportunities. I tried in vain to reach him, to restore our bond, but was met with only the most chilling silence.

How had I been so wrong? Had my desire devolved into mere obsession, albeit one artfully disguised as love? Had my zeal somehow suffocated him? The irony for me was that this disastrous affair unfolded during a period of rapid and positive transformation. In the space of the last seven months, I'd already changed my diet, fixed my teeth, joined a gym, paid off a chunk of my debt, reorganized my home office, purchased a standing desk, resumed my daily beach walks, started seeing both a psychiatrist and a therapist. My relationship to my body was improving, I was working at a higher level of professional responsibility, gaining new clients, writing my fourth novel, and churning out the finest paintings of my career. A recent experience with ayahuasca had given me valuable insights into my adulthood. It seemed only right that this Russian should be the cherry on my sundae, a prize I had been working so hard to deserve.

And so, after admitting my own disenchantment, I surrendered. Reeling from an overwhelming feeling of loss, I wrote him a heartfelt letter in Russian, one in which I explained the hurt his indifference was causing me. I poured a lot of benevolent energy into this letter. And then I said to him the saddest word I've learned in Russian, "Прощай", which is the type of goodbye you use when you think you are not likely to see someone again. It translates, literally, into "forgive me."

Here is the letter I wrote to him, translated into English:

***

"V_____, beautiful V____:

Okay. I give up.

Your silence gave me a very clear and very painful answer. You have been entrusted with something rare and beautiful, and you have shown that you do not want it. So now it's gone.

I'm sorry my heart bored you so much. I will no longer annoy you with my desires.

The love that I offered you ... pure and strong, given without demands or jealous limitations ... does not come often.

It pains me to realize that you do not appreciate what I have tried to give you. It is even more painful to realize that I may have aggravated the situation with my zeal. But the distance that you put between us is your choice, and I must respect that.

It seems that the epiphany you experienced in the car accident, the moment you thought of all the love in your life, did not include my love for you. Your priorities are yours, and I accept that. But you almost died yesterday, V_____. And instead of choosing to bond with a man who cares about you so much, your focus shifted to Scruff. Your indifference is so obvious now. Please do not say anything ugly or cruel in response. There is already enough sorrow on my island. I feel both grief and embarrassment, but not anger. I've always wanted the best for you, and it's still true.

I sincerely wish you a long and happy journey. I hope you enjoy many successes and find many pleasures. I hope you stay healthy. I hope the man you choose deserves your best gifts. I hope you find a better lighthouse. I must direct my light now to those who are really looking for it. So now I must tell you the saddest word that I have learned in your language.

Goodbye."

***

Please allow me now to rewind a few years, and tell a correlative story.

In the autumn of 2019, during a period of intense sadness and frustration, I fled from Anastasia Island and drove impulsively across the state to the Gulf Coast. I didn't have a clear destination, I didn't pack enough clothes or supplies, and I was so blinded with tears and unexpressed rage that I didn't know where I was, or even care much about where I might land. While getting lost somewhere in the vicinity of St. Petersburg, I glanced at a map, dragged my finger along the squiggly coastline, saw the name Treasure Island, and thought, "That's gotta be the place."

I don't know what I was expecting to find there. Something about the name sounded so exciting, so exotic. And as the evening wore on, my anticipation grew. I thought, in my desperation, that everything would be all right once I got to Treasure Island. Over the next few hours, I convinced myself that I'd finally feel good again in such a place, that my pain and confusion would certainly evaporate once I reached this safe haven. I'd check into a nice hotel room, preferably one with 300 thread-count sheets and a coffee maker, and I'd dream about pirate ships and gold doubloons, and when I opened my eyes and yawned and stretched against the sun-dappled pillows my life would basically feel like a commercial for some bougie brand of almond milk. When I arrived, however, I was deeply disappointed to see another narrow stretch of high-rise hotels, littered beaches, rank seaweed, and greyish-brown water. I found the cheapest hotel room around, one of the few remaining vacancies on the shore, and there I found neither crisp bedsheets nor good coffee. The view from my balcony, however, was utterly amazing: I could see not only a broad curving swath of the beach, but also a glow of distant resort hotels, some of them reflected in the waves. It was strangely romantic, seeing these twinkling lights ... red, gold, green, blue ... and their silent conversation with the stars, a dialogue of jewels above the warm churning waters of the Gulf. But it wasn't the salvation I had been hoping for.

When I got up the next morning, I was still facing the same problems, the same irritations, the same heavy sorrows. Treasure Island would not, could not, rescue me from myself. So I drove back home to my own island, back to my lighthouse, and was relieved to discover that it was in fact even more stirring than I had remembered. During my absence Anastasia Island had become a magical and restorative place, quite different than the one I had left only days before.

What I should have learned back then, but have only come to realize now, was this: I didn't need to travel to a distant island of treasure and twinkling stars, for my own island already had plenty of both. I didn't need to seek the incandescence of a handsome man to light my way, as my own inner flame was at last beginning to shine without the shutters of inhibition or profligacy.

I am now recalling my disappointment with Treasure Island, while concurrently considering my grief over the Russian. At first, I wanted to hate him for his carelessness, for how he squandered my gifts. But I don't hate him. Not really. There's no need to wring my hands any further over his callousness. I don't even mourn his absence anymore. My mood has shifted today, and I no longer choose to see this abortive liaison as being so devastating. For I know, deep down, that the failure here was not really mine. I am not a loser for investing myself unreservedly in someone who could not fully appreciate me, nor I am not the weaker man for feeling injured. I will not be permanently depleted for having offered all that kindness to an undeserving recipient, as my wellspring of love remains inexhaustible.

I tried to share my lighthouse with the Russian. But he did not recognize how special it really was, and he declined to follow its beacon to a rewarding harbor. And thus, our romance was destroyed, and his memory became just another broken boat littering the shallows.

I have seen so many ruins in my years: bad relationships, lousy jobs, soured opportunities. My life story reads like a ledger of dashed hopes. It seems sometimes that both the island I occupy and the more elusive island I am eternally seeking are surrounded by shipwrecks. Yet the lighthouse of my spirit still stands, sturdier and stronger than ever. The waves may batter its bricks, salt may scour its surfaces, it may occasionally groan under its own weight ... but it will not crumble, it will not fail, and even in the darkest of hours this lamp of mine will continue to shine: bright, focused, undiminished.

[taptroupe]

evergrace chapter 10 final part YAY I AM NOW FREE FROM SCHOOL FOREVER MAYBE

A well trained body covered with armor.

Aside from red ornaments, entirely in black - and whatever clothes could be seen underneath, a grassy colour.

His hair couldn’t be seen underneath his helmet, but instead a rough face tanned by the sun. Brown eyes, with hidden strength reflected within.

And then, a huge scar across his cheek.

The counteroffensives of Morea.

this finally wraps up chapter 10. may the next chapters not take months to finish please oh god lmao. this finally brings the introduction of ralbadora, the assassin who killed darius’s parents, and then a heart to heart between darius and olsdflsfjl, and then.............. the moment before the final fight.

“You.... YOU!”

Bitter, painful memories came back to Darius’s mind upon seeing the man from his nightmares appear in front of him again.

He swung his sword, once, twice, three times, but the man would not retaliate. He retreated backwards, out of the room, but Darius leapt forward to strike.

“Darius, what are you doing?!”

Orlsjfldjf, still at the lever, dropped it and positioned himself behind Darius - grabbing his arms and pinning it behind his back.

darius gets two wrestling moves performed on him this chapter LOLOLOL

“This man rushed to me and Medina’s safety! Without him, we wouldn’t even be alive right now!”

“I don’t care what he did! He’s the bastard that killed my parents!”

“Bastard?” (the word used here is 仇 , implying grudge, super hated enemy)

In a moment of confusion on ordsldrsj’s side, Darius shook free of his restraint. Both his sword and his words were pointed at the man with rage.

“It wasn’t just Sharline... You, you survived too!”

The counteroffensive of Morea shook his head.

“Darius of Solta, to you who bears the Crest. For killing your parents, though I desire to apologize, an apology would never make up for what I’ve done.

But, your father raised a knife to the neck of our Mother - and that is something we could not allow to happen.”

“The Billiana forest?! You’re telling me that those trees mean more than a person’s life?!”

“That’s right. For Billiana is the source of all life.”

“I’m tired of hearing that bullshit!”

“We wanted your father to change his mind, at least for your sake, but he would not listen to our words...”

Somehow, the man he held a grudge against all these years... Was far different from the image he had created in his head. Darius felt his anger dissipate, and what arose was confusion.

“But... Why... Why would you save the son of the man you killed? I... I don’t understand...”

“Our mother’s enemy was your father and your father only. But, what I had done to your mother... Was my grave error.”

(”omae no haha made te ni kakete shimatta koto” is kinda like “what i did by my hands concerning your mother” also implying it was a mistake. kinda vague but probably on purpose. they know what happened. it was axe)

“Then.... Then you should’ve just killed me back then, too!”

“.......We couldn’t. Our rules dictate that a Crestbearer must never face the edge of a blade. But, to leave you alive would leave you with nothing but pure hate. Yet at the same time, to kill you... Would result in punishment for myself.”

“......”

“I have committed a sin I must atone for. At that time, that girl who stood in front of me, and to the you that stands in front of me now, I will protect you both.”

“Sharline, too?”

“She sacrificed herself in place of my sin.

Darius, until that girl’s safety is guaranteed, this life of mine is yours to use as you see fit.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

The man stepped in front of Darius. He raised the sword Darius held to his throat.

“My name is Ralbadora. I can only offer this oath and my life, with the Mother of All Things as witness. To Darius and Sharline, I promise to protect you both until this life of mine is extinguished.

Darius, my life is now in your hands. You may do what you wish.”

Ralbardora stared firmly at Darius with a long silence. From the (very stiff) back, Orladin lets go of Darius’s shoulder, to Medina raises her disapproval.

“My prince, what are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re not going to stop them, are you?”

“If it’s a sacred oath like that, there’s nothing that people like us can do.”

The blond haired youth took a step back and watched the two quiet men closely. Medina watched with a tight lip, but shook her head as words of incredulousness suddenly burst from her mouth.

“No... Killing each other isn’t.... Darius, don’t do it! If... Yes, if Sharline were here, she’d tell you to stop it too!”

The cold, frozen expression on Darius’s face (and probably body too) slowly disappeared. 

Turning into one of intensity. And as he clenched his teeth, he slowly...

Lowered his sword down.

“Ralbadora, until we reunite with Sharline, I’ll let you live. But if you even dare direct your sword at me, I WILL kill you without mercy.”

Ralbadora nodded.

“For that much I am already grateful. I swear on this oath to never forget it.”

As soon as the tension in the room slackened for a moment, Darius’s wounds came back to remind him of his battle, and let out a small grunt of pain. Orladin helped to keep him steady.

“These injuries will take some time to heal. Let’s rest here for a bit.”

“No, we can’t afford to rest here... It could be a trap, and I’m sure Morpheus already knows we’re here.”

“That could be true, but, your...” Orladin looks to Medina.

“...Is there any other weird contraptions up there?”

“Not really. Between the teleporter to the secret lab, and the stairway upwards, you shouldn’t get lost or anything...”

“Okay, then you should stay here.”

“Wait, but there’s just a little bit left...”

“No. [i don’t wanna translate this but i think orladin is implying in the nicest way that she’s a burden and could be easily used for any trap morpheus has lying around, which is mean and i wish medina would stay but that’s how the cookie crumbles. sigh]”

Medina looks to Darius and Ralbadora, who silently seem to agree with what Orladin said.

“...I understand. I’ll go back, then.”

“I will accompany you to the gondola.”

Said Ralbadora, who stood beside her. Medina gives a smile of appreciation, and goes with him. As her back shrinks into the distance, she suddenly stops and turns around.

“Prince Orladin, Darius... Do you think we can meet again?”

Darius could only frown. Orladin nodded, and started to speak in a happier tone.

“We’ll do our best, so that we may hopefully do just that.”

Medina gave a faint smile, and soon she and Ralbadora disappeared from view.

RIP MEDINA WE NEVER SAW HER AGAIN 2000-2000 

just kidding. we’ll see her later i won’t spoil anything more. but ;___; i’m happy this novel gave medina a better role than that of the game. i quite appreciate her, sickly yet determined. she really does have a life of her own. to you medina, who accompanied this whole chapter with intellect and kindness, who wanted to talk to your grandfather, who wished the safety of trandin and sharline.. know that you will have a happy ending. ....... well

Well.

ANYWAYS

As Medina’s profile disappeared, the smile on Orladin’s face disappeared. A sullen face resurfaced as he took a small pin from his leather bag on his belt. He handed a life elixir off to Darius, to which he finished in one breath. A warm strength returned to him, clearing away the pain of his injuries. Finally, he could breathe a long sigh of relief.

He gave a nod of thanks to olselfks, but noticed that he was frustrated - biting his lips, even.

“...Orladin, is there anything wrong? At all?”

“Just disgusted in myself.”

Sitting upon a pile of junk, he couldn’t help but punch [doesn’t say what but let’s say he punched himself LOL jk probably just punched his open hand]

jk it’s his open hand ya

“Why, why couldn’t we have stopped Morpheus before all this... We knew he was up to something, we should’ve known that, and if we took action, I wouldn’t have lost everything... If I hadn’t been wrapped up in myself, then... I’m just disgusted.”

“...You’re not a time traveller, Orladin. I don’t think normal people could’ve predicted something like this.”

Completely healed of his injuries, Darius sat down on the floor of the room, and [rubbed his right belt. i’m serious. i don’t know what this means. he does have a bag on that side but uh. idk]

“It’s like how I lost Sharline, and what I did after that. Like how Medina wants her humanity back, and what Morpheus is doing. I think I understand it now. 

Somehow, life is all about picking up the pieces of what others did. Or your own. Kinda like ass wiping.”

“Ass wiping, huh...”

[full disclosure the idiom is shirinugu, which means to clean up a mess usually others but literally it’s ass cleaning so yeah. it’s also used jokingly in the beginning of the novel which is probably where darius decides to use it too but REALLY DARIUS. IF YOU’RE SAYING EVERYTHING YOU DID IS LIKE EXPLOSIVE SHITS OR SOMETHING IS SHARLINE LIKE A TOILET PLUNGER]

Upon hearing Darius’s anecdote, Orladin laughed.

“Lots of people run away at the sight of shit, huh? ...Well, myself included, I’ve run away from many things. Even with all my willpower now, it’s barely keeping me from running.”

Taking a breath, Orladin sat quietly for a bit, before looking down slightly as he spoke again.

“Darius, I feel like I can trust you. You really are my last resort against Morpheus.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The mercenary thing and all, no worries, I get it.”

“....No, it’s not that. I’m just... Annoyed at myself [again lol] for having to rely on you, you and your... That thing... 

I... Your... I’m afraid of the power your Crest has.”

“I know, I’ve heard that plenty of times. No matter how nice people are, they’ll always say that when they see it. Not really a lot of people who get along with Mister Plague here.”

“......Darius. I told you a lie earlier. 

The one who defeated the Legendary Mercenary... It was you.”

“What did you say? But he knocked me out, didn’t he?”

“Yes, you were...” Orladin looked up at Darius with a straight face.

“But, after that, you got up... And started floating. And you started fighting again. And you won.”

“I... I did?”

“Mhm. Krisalis somehow, she knew about it too. Even the Legendary Mercenary, who could break huge rocks with ease, he saw your power as equal to his... 

Crest... Krisalis... Demon... That power that surpassed normal humans... I was terrified. And so, i hid in your shadow, for what did I know? 

Though I wanted to fight Morpheus, to use you instead...! It’s all a mess.”

Using the hidden power he didn’t even know he had - and Krisalis knew this too. Is that why she followed him around?

Darius couldn’t find any words to say, only looking aimlessly at the ground. A painfully long silence hung in the air... Until Orladin broke it again.

“Sorry, I.. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you don’t really want to think about your Crest, and all...”

“No, it’s better that I know this.” Darius looked down at his right hand, wrapped in a tight fist. Eyes of anger looking at his mark of anger.

“The fact that i didn’t know before, and this thing led me around possessed, I’m sorry.”

THEY SHOULD’VE BANGED NOT GONNA LIE ANYMORE

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard. A shadow from afar, Ralbadora’s, approached the two silent men. Darius got up, and looked at Orladin.

“What should I do now?”

[“Well.. You were the one who said that Morpheus knew where we are, and that he’d rush to our location immediately. I thought he said this i was so smart until google translate made it make more sense]

“Well, you’re the one who brought us this far. We’re going to fight Morpheus, aren’t we? Though I don’t have a shred of royal honour anymore, I can’t guarantee I can protect you with that...”

Darius raised his right fist lightly. “All because of this scary thing, huh? Come on, decide like a proper royal, won’t you?”

Orladin was silent for a moment more, then as if shaking something off, quickly got up from his spot.

“Of course I’ll go along with you. And it’s fine to forget about me in the middle of the battle - I’ll try my best to protect you [or at least do something about it]”

ONE PAGE LEFT TO GO HOO. SORRY IF I BLUDGEONED EVERYTHING ORLADIN AND DARIUS SAID

As the three walked a short length, they found the next room to be narrow, long, and probably a storage room. The area contained another kind of transfer device like the previous one, though without a hint of Palmira energy and equally just as quiet. 

THIS IS ALL JUST BUILDING DESCRIPTIONS. THERE’S LIKE NICE ENGRAVINGS ON THE WALL. THERE’S STAIRS THAT LEAD UP AND DOWN. DARIUS GOES UP WITHOUT LOOKING BACK. THE STAIRS TURN AND KEEP GOING UP. WHAT IS THIS EVEN LIKE THE OH MAYBE IT’S THE FINAL FLOOR BEFORE THE LAB YEAH MAYBE I KNOW THIS. THERE’S DOORS BUT NO ONE CARES

Aside from the difficult breathing coming from the three, the only thing they could hear was the wind that beat down on the stairways. Even the monsters were too afraid to attack, and as they reached the final steps, a door engraved with the Alcrest stood before them.

The door didn’t seem to have a lever anywhere to open it. Darius curiously touched the door, to which its left and right sides opened...

The three men, who held onto their weapons tight, were greeted with green skies and a sea of clouds beneath. The wind whipped up the clouds into a haze of white. Beyond the door and before the green skies stood the tower with a rocky path leading to it, and at the path’s end was a building... A small round building. And there were somemagicalthingsidklikeacircularsdiskIDKBROIDK

“If it’s as Medina said, then up ahead is Morpheus’s secret lab.” 

okayok darius nodded and then walked briskly but the glowing letters on the DISK THING IDK IT GLOWED SO ORLADIN WAS LIKE

“OH NO DARIUS BE CAREFUL YOU’RE GONNA BE BLOWN OFF”

so he grabs onto him but ralbadora just backs off he knows things apparently

“Medina said that this transport device will take us to the entrance of the lab. from there there’s rooms for reference, etc, idk man, stuff for experiments, smaller rooms, idk, idk BRO IDK”

“But, once we enter, it’s the rooms on the sides that’ll have the people we need to save.” IDK

ralbadora is quiet as orladin probably continues on what he needs to say

“There’ll probably be those monsters there protecting Morpheus, too. That kid from before. So, Darius, we’ll have to depend on you. Ralbadora and I, we’ll rescue Sharline and Sienna (who are on opposite sides i think as the game is). If we can’t find them in those rooms, then we’ll rush to the back to find them. And once we do, we’re taking them back out to safety.

...Is that okay?”

The three men nodded, and entered the magic circle. The circle glowed with soft yellow light, surrounding the men and TELEPORTED THEM OR SOMETHING

HOO

IT’S DONE

AFTER LIKE

FIVE MONTHS

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Stretch is on a quest and just because it’s on a bus and not a steed, doesn’t mean it’s not noble.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury,

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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CH1 | CH2 | CH3

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch jerked awake his first panicked thought was that he’d missed his stop. But no, the Embassy dropoff was coming up next, looming up through the bus windshield. Guess he had some latent directional sense buried in one of the dusty corners of his psyche.

Not like he’d meant to fall asleep, but Edge’s insomnia seemed to be contagious. He’d started out the ride browsing on twitter, trying to think of something noncommittal to say that also wasn’t too lighthearted, given what was blaring about Monsters lately on Fox news.

He'd been strictly forbidden from discussing anything surrounding the bombings with his followers and normally restrictions like that made him bristle, his nonexistent nerves going full porcupine. In this instance, he’d only meekly agreed, but that didn’t keep his followers from doing their math. No Humans actually knew how few skeleton Monsters there were, but then, most Monster species were a little on the sparse side. Some clever bloggers had linked pictures of Edge’s boots from Stretch’s twitter to the shots the press released of the bombing aftermath. Stretch hadn’t looked at those pictures too closely, but he’d seen the zoomed in shots with the boots circled with Microsoft paint.

Without him saying a word, it was suddenly an ill-kept secret that his husband was hurt and the messages were pouring in, asking for confirmation, offering condolences, donations, even sending prayers which was weird, but sorta kind. Sorta.

Twitter was less a distraction and more an unwanted obligation this week, and he’d finally put his phone away. He wasn’t the only Monster on board, not on a bus route that went past the Embassy. At this time of day, there weren’t many others. They’d offered smiles and murmured greetings, then pretty much left him alone.

That was fine by him. But with no one to chat to, he must’ve drifted off and it was nice to see he’d managed to scrape together enough good luck not to end up all the way downtown. Hopefully, he had enough leftover to take him to the end of this mission.

He was still a little bleary as he got off the bus. The sight of the protesters lining the sidewalk, all bundled up and sitting in their lawn chairs with their signs woke him up pretty damn quick. Eh, shit, he’d promised Edge he’d teleport right into the lobby, but he hadn’t called ahead and popping in when they were under high alert seemed like a poor life choice. Instead, he shortcutted to the front door, hey, he was following the spirit of the promise which was to keep safe and scaring the shit out of the security guard wasn’t it.

The guard on duty didn’t much look like he’d be surprised if Stretch shortcutted in on his lap. Murray was a huge, hulking Monster, with curling horns and a thirst for crosswords. He barely looked up at his current one, mumbling a greeting as Stretch swiped his card to push through the turnstile. He’d done pretty much the same thing every time Stretch stopped in, including when he’d shown up in just a bed sheet. There was one Monster who wasn’t worried about current events, almost had to admire that kind of skill in blatantly ignoring a crisis.

Stretch stepped into the elevator alone and pushed the button, vaguely humming the theme song to ‘Mission Impossible’. Not that it was, but eh, life could use a soundtrack from time to time.

It was too damn bad he didn’t have time to visit Andy while he was here; he hadn’t even seen his office yet and was planning to get him something for his desk. Maybe a Newton’s cradle, that seemed traditional, but a Nerf gun was a good way to build a community. He made a mental promise to come visit Edge for lunch someday and stop in bearing gifts.

The elevator dinged and Stretch got off, heading down the hallway. He’d only been here a couple of times, but he knew right where he was going.

The slim Monster sitting at the desk looked up as he came in, his cheery smile fading into something a little more forced. Asgore’s assistant, Kevin, was probably an okay guy, but none-too-fond of Stretch’s approach where his boss was concerned and Stretch was never exactly excited to spend any time with Asgore’s biggest fan. “Can I help you?”

“yeah. is ass-gore in or is he busy glad-handing his way down the hallways.” Really, Stretch couldn’t fathom why Kevin didn’t like him.

That forced smile iced over. “I beg your pardon.”

Slowly and deliberately, Stretch said, “is. asgore. in.”

“I’m afraid he’s not taking appointments today.” If Kevin got any colder, he’d be spitting ice chips across his desk and mess up all that important paperwork.

Stretch gave him a thin smile. “look we both know i’m in your office as a courtesy, so let’s go ahead and keep it courteous, yeah? i don’t want to play dodge-ums today after i scaring the shit out of him popping in, and he could probably do without any fresh surprises.”

He was pretty sure he was about to be told in very polite and courteous language to get fucked with the intercom crackled, Asgore’s voice booming over the line.

“Let him in.”

It was probably petty to smirk smugly at Kevin as he walked past him. It definitely was to give him a little backhanded finger-waggle of a wave. But eh, it served his purpose to use up a little of his distaste before he stepped into the office where Asgore was waiting behind the desk.

He started to rise and Stretch could almost feel the cheerfully ‘Howdy’ start to vibrate in the air before he choked it back to a more sedate, “Good afternoon, Stretch, won’t you sit down?”

Asgore gestured to a large, overstuffed sofa and Stretch almost said no, less out of ingrained spitefulness and more because he was agitated, already fidgeting with his lighter as he took a seat.

He waited while Asgore did the same, settling across from him in a chair that’d probably had to be specially made. Not many Humans hit Boss Monster sizes and those that did probably wished for a shorter inseam. It was hard enough for Stretch to find pants.

Asgore laced his hands comfortably over his belly and asked, “What can I do for you?”

“i need a favor,” Stretch said bluntly, ignoring Asgore’s visible surprise. He didn’t much have the time or inclination to draw this out, “i need you to let edge come back to work.”

The surprise on Asgore’s expression only deepened, leaving him distinctly taken aback, his furry caterpillar eyebrows drawn downward. Yeah, Stretch got that; him not only asking for a favor but for THAT favor was worth some eyebrow gymnastics.

“You want him back to work,” Asgore repeated slowly.

“i don’t actually, not really, but he needs to come back.”

“Is everything all right?” Asgore asked delicately. Looking into his concerned face was making his anxiety give the mambo a try; Stretch didn’t want to discuss Edge with Asgore, not as his King, his boss, or that fatherly role that he tried so hard to step into. He looked past him instead, at the picture on the wall between two bookcases. A painting, not a very good one, but recognizably of golden flowers. They didn’t transplant well from the Underground, a lot of Monsters mourned easy access to their favorite tea and Stretch wondered if Asgore had painted it. Maybe Frisk, the kid was fond of their adopted dad and--

Asgore was nothing if not polite and didn’t say anything while Stretch woolgathered long enough for enough yarn to make to make a sweater.

Shit or get off the pot was one of Red’s favorite idioms, not one of Stretch’s faves and kinda ironic considering that none of them had asses, but sometimes it was the truth. “i know you think you’re doing him a favor but you’re not. he’s stuck at home on our sofa, he can’t go running, can’t clean, can’t even cook, and he’s being forced to watch all this shit go down from the buzzfeed angle. you can’t take away his reason for living like this.”

The chair creaked ominously as Asgore shifted his weight. “I’d like to hope his job isn’t his reason for living.”

“it’s not the job. it’s helping people. he needs to help people,” Stretch took a deep breath, he was doing a shit job explaining this and Asgore didn’t look very convinced. “look, i know depressed, okay, and he’s verging on it. you have to give him something. i know him, better than you, better than anyone. he’s been glued to the boob tube all week, writing notes, making plans. let him help a little, it’ll calm all those protective instincts down if he thinks he’s helping.”

At least Asgore seemed to consider that. He propped his head up on a hand the size of a meatloaf. Or a chicken. “He hasn’t scheduled his mental health assessment yet.”

“i know. skip it for now, he’ll get it done later.”

Asgore frowned, his face creasing with concern. “The assessment is for his own good. It’s not simply bureaucratic nonsense, it is for his well being.”

Stretch was already nodding, absently noting the click-click-click of his lighter weaving in and out through his fingers. “i get that, i do. can you trust my assessment? look, i’ll get him into the head shrinker if that’s what you want, but don’t make his job conditional on it. i’m a big proponent of mental health care and i’ve got vested reasons for making sure he’s doing okay. but he needs this.”

Asgore was obviously thinking hard, looking at nothing over his steepled fingers, but Stretch wasn’t sure which side of the teeter-totter he was gonna come down on. Being able to read people’s intent and souls was a skill Stretch still had, but he was hella out of practice and didn’t really want to train back up.

“All right,” Asgore said at last. “On three conditions.”

“three!”

He spread his large hands. “This is not a small favor.”

Stretch sighed and slumped back. He wasn’t wrong and Stretch knew from personal experience that when Asgore had you by the balls, he knew how to give ‘em a good, firm twist. It was kinda chuckilicious, really. “start talking.”

“First, I tell him it’s my idea.”

“why?” Stretch said immediately. He had an inkling, but better to not take anything for granted.

Asgore was ready for him. “Because he will appreciate my trust in him and his skills, and because he will not appreciate you interfering like this. Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t. “deal.”

“Second, you promise me that you’ll get him in for that assessment. I’ll give you until the end of the month, but if it hasn’t been done, I‘ll suspend him.”

“promise.” There was a sour taste on the back of his tongue as he waited for the last ticky box.

“And last, you shake my hand.”

“what?” That one got him sitting forward, sputtering out, “why?”

“Because you’re asking a favor,” Asgore said serenely. He laced his hands over his soft middle again. “And those are my terms.”

Stretch glared hotly at him, but Asgore was unperturbed. Probably had lots of people scarier that Stretch giving him the ol’ death glare.

Welp, it was hardly the worst thing he’d ever done.

Stretch held out his hand and Asgore leaned forward to take it.

The loud whirr of the joybuzzer made Asgore jump and jerk his hand back, but he only laughed heartily, slapping his knees as he rose. “All right, I’ll have his access restored by this evening. I trust you’ll keep him from overdoing it?”

“yeah, i got it,” Stretch stood hastily and tucked the joy buzzer back into his pocket. He resisted the urge to scrub his hand on his pants. Asgore would take it wrong and he wasn’t that much of a dick, even if that furry palm made his bones tickle something fierce. He headed for the door, relief already seeping in. “thanks.”

“Stretch?” he paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m glad you came to me.”

“don’t make this into some bonding moment, okay?” Stretch gave him a side eye. “it’s not like i had a lot of other people to ask.”

Asgore’s smile twisted wryly. “Of course. Be careful on your ride home.”

Stretch didn’t say, ‘thanks, grandma’, but it was a close thing.

Simply walking past the daggers Kevin was glaring at him was exhausting and the second he was out of the office, Stretch shortcutted down to the elevators.

In no time he was safely back on the bus, slumped down. He was ready for another nap, but there wasn’t time for that. The main story line on his adventure was was done, but he still had a side quest to finish.

He opened an app on his phone and tapped in an order, and by the time the bus trundled to a halt at the bus stop outside the Golden City, it was waiting for him with one of their drivers, bundled into a warm jacket with the goods in hand. The young man who handed in the bag filled with cartons of yumminess only grinned at him, but he took the hefty tip Stretch offered without complaint.

Stretch plopped the heavy bag on the seat next to him and slumped back again, “home, jeeves,” Stretch mumbled to nobody and he hoped if he zonked out again one of the other Monsters on the bus would be kind enough to give him a nudge.

By the time he walked through his front door again, feeling worn and jelly-wobbly , Edge was awake and dressed, with an opened book in his hands.

“hey, babe,” Stretch called, kicking off his shoes and leaving them piled on the mat. “sorry i ditched on you, but my cooking skills have been tested to their limit and it’s a little late to hire gordon ramsey for the night.”

“Yes, I saw your note.” He set the book aside and his warm smile was like an infusion, easing some of Stretch’s weariness. “What treasures did you bring us from the shores of Ebott?”

“arr, matey,” Stretch laughed. “except i didn’t get any fish. hope chinese sounds good.”

“Golden City?” Edge said slowly and something in his voice made Stretch hesitate.

Shit.

They hadn’t been back there together since the whole thing with Andy. Stretch hadn’t even thought about that in a while, he’d gone over it with his therapist and that’d been crap, but honestly, he liked to put that one into the win category. Andy was okay and had a new job, the shitbags were in jail, and public opinion ended up on their side. Plus, he wasn’t about to let any assholes ruin Chinese food for him, thanks, but Edge didn’t look like he’d gotten that memo.

Stretch’d gone back on his own a couple times for the lunch special, had he ever mentioned that to Edge? He couldn’t remember, he hadn’t been hiding it or anything, it just never came up. Until now, and the last thing he wanted to do was get Edge to relive any other shitty event highlights.

“yeah, um,” Stretch forced cheer into his voice. “i had them bring the takeout bags to the bus stop, saved myself a walk.”

Whatever Edge was thinking in that head of his, he didn’t let it out to play. He only nodded, looking back at his book as he said, “Clever. It does sound good.”

“great!” Stretch said brightly, maybe not a firework, but he could try for a sparkler. “i’ll go get some plates.” With dismal humor, he thought that if he injected in any more manic cheer, he’d start to sound like his bro. He set the bags down on the coffee table next to the pile of pillows and headed for the kitchen, since Edge had very strong opinions on eating out of cartons that he wasn’t shy about sharing.

By the time they were settled in with their plates, whatever concerns Edge had about Stretch revisiting the scene of a crime, as it were, seemed to have been banished. He ate hungrily and that alone was a relief. He’d been picking at his meals for the past day or so and Stretch didn’t think his cooking was entirely to blame. Just added data to his hypothesis that with proper application, sex was a cure for many ills. Worked for him, anyway.

Halfway through the last carton of chop suey, Edge’s phone pinged. Stretch kept his attention on his plate, slurping up noodles with an impressive amount of noise for someone who lacked lips. Out of the corner of his socket he saw Edge frowning at the message.

“Asgore is restoring my Embassy access,” Edge said slowly. “He said that with everything that’s happening, they need my assistance, and he’s asking that I work half days for the rest of the week.”

Okay, here was where he put his acting skills to the test and if he couldn’t go for an Oscar, he at least needed a Golden Globe.

Stretch worked up what he hoped was the proper amount of indignant anger and said, “seriously? you got one week off to recover from almost getting blown up and ass-gore can’t even give you that?” And before Edge could say anything, he threw his hand up, dumping his empty plate on the coffee table hard enough for his fork to clatter. “you know what? never mind. go ahead, help out, at least it’ll be for a good cause and not him using you as an extra security guard.”

“No,” Edge set his phone aside, “I’m not doing it.”

Um, what? “what?” Stretch said blankly, fuck, he was going to get a razzy with this performance, must’ve chewed the scenery too hard.

“No. I was thinking while you were gone and I’ve been acting appallingly since we got home. I’ve been sulking like a child while you’ve been trying so hard to care for me.” He touched Stretch’s cheek bone gently, his glove velvety soft as he ran his thumb across it. “Considering how things were between us when I left for California, I think I need to focus more on you than paperwork.”

Well, this was some modern-day gift of the magi shit, now wasn’t it? Last week he would have been thrilled to hear this and now that he’d made a special trip and begged for favors he was getting hoisted by his own fibbing petard.

Okay, nope, his hard work was not going to be in vain, damn it, this chapter of his life was going to end with happiness and accolades all around. Edge might be the strategy guy, but Stretch wasn’t half-bad on the fly, and his plans might be a little loose, or chaotic as Edge put it, but he could plan.

First, he gave Edge a kiss, made sure to linger, made it sweet, soft, trying to pour his love into it, until he was almost distracted himself.

Next step, bullshit.

He leaned back, cupping Edge’s face in his hands and gave him the best smile he had left on the shelf. “that’s really sweet, babe, but how about a compromise? you can spend a couple hours in the afternoon working while i take a nap. that’ll let you get all your ‘save the world’ energy out in time for dinner, yeah?”

Ooh, might have a winner here. Edge was visibly wavering, probably thinking of all the luscious paperwork he could get through in a couple of hours. Time to go for the throat, “beside, janice is probably going nuts without you. if you help out, maybe she’ll be able to get home in time to see her kiddos before bedtime.”

Direct hit, winner winner, no chicken for dinner, “That...would be helpful, yes.” Edge gave him another toe-curling, shivery kiss before he murmured, “Promise me that you don’t mind?”

Stretch twitched back, grimacing. He’d been making an awful lot of promises lately. “i promise.”

He stood up to clear away the plates and leftovers, and by the time he got back, Edge already had his laptop out and was typing away. Stretch was about to put a movie on and let him work, but before he could even steal the remote, Edge said, “My access is also conditional on my getting that assessment.”

Um, wow, okay, they were actually talking about this? Cautiously, Stretch offered, “i take it you’re not a big fan of the idea.”

He tried to say it as neutrally as he could, but Edge set his laptop on the side table and took his hand, tugging him down into his lap. Stretch settled gingerly, watching his husband’s face carefully for any hint of discomfort. There was none, and he let Edge tuck his head against his shoulder, his hand smoothing down Stretch’s back.

“Stretch, i don’t mean to imply that there is anything wrong with therapy or that it’s somehow beneath me. I’m not that much of a hypocrite and I can see that it’s been helping you,” Edge hesitated and Stretch held his breath, remembering when Edge told him it was easier to talk sometimes if Stretch wasn’t looking at him. He kept his head down, snuggling into Edge in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “My issue is that it’s difficult for me to open up to anyone and this is a colleague. I see them in the hallways, in the cafeteria. I’m struggling with the idea of answering the kind of questions they might ask me.”

“okay,” Stretch said slowly. “so see someone else?”

Edge jerked and when Stretch lifted his head, he looked so surprised that Stretch couldn’t help smiling. Trust his baby to be looking for the answer to a complex puzzle when the easiest route was staring him in the face.

“i could talk to my therapist?” Stretch offered. “see if she could recommend someone.”

“A Human.”

“yeah, probably. would that be a problem?”

“I..no,” Edge said slowly. “No, I think that would be better. Perhaps I should simply talk with your therapist, I already know her and she’s done well for you and Sans.”

That made him feel a little squirmy inside; he told things to Doctor Lee that he’d never told anyone, not his own brother, not Edge. It was only an assessment, not like a weekly commitment, but--

“can i think about it?”

“Of course.” No concern, no anger, only another gentle kiss. He slipped off Edge’s lap before they got carried away, no double-dipping on afternoon delights while anyone had a cast. Stretch settled down on the sofa, the top of his skull leaning on Edge’s femur, and flicked a movie on, the volume low and subtitles running. Edge was typing away on his laptop, but occasionally a hand would stroke over his skull, helping to lull him to sleep.

Stretch couldn’t say how long he lay there drowsing, and he murmured a faint protest when Edge eventually pulled away and stood.

“I’m only getting a drink, love and I need to work out the kinks.”

“i can help you with any kink, make a list,” Stretch mumbled.

An amused sound close to his skull and a rough kiss pressed on top of it. “We’ll try that when I’m back on two feet.”

Vaguely, he heard Edge crutch his way to the kitchen, the door swinging open then shut, listening to the faint murmur of the television. The sudden crash was almost deafening, even through the kitchen door, jolting Stretch awake. Before he could do more than look around wildly, Edge called his name, and fuck, fuck, he’d never heard Edge like that, called his name, no, no, he yelled it, screamed it. Not hurt, no, he sounded scared when had Edge ever sounded scared?

Before he shortcutted into the kitchen, his magic running hot, ready to deal with what the fuck ever dared come to their house, his last darkly amused thought was that he shouldn’t have used all his good luck that afternoon.

-tbc-

Check me out on AO3  | I’m also on twitter

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 43

Spoilers, obv.

Issue 44 comes out tomorrow at the time of writing. As I’m on the west coast of the USA, it will be just after midnight GMT by the time they’re online. So abstractly, this is the first time ever which we come out when the next issue is out. Abstractly. I’d say the day counts as where I am, and doesn’t Comixology come out a little later? We’ll see.

It’s also been so long that I almost wrote notes for issue 44. This is a weird goodbye, this period.

Anyway – Issue 43, wherein we finish explaining all the big stuff we’re going to explain.

I mean, there’s more in issue 44 and 45, but it’s all details, with the denouncement really being based around the characters’ response to this issue. They know the truth. Now what are they going to do about it?

That was the main note I gave in the script to the team – if there’s any really big questions you are confused about, now is the time to say, as this is the best clarification it’ll get. As such, we worked on it a lot to nail what we wanted to say – and what we didn’t. Sometimes this meant actually simplifying a little to avoid repeating huge amounts of stuff and leaving people even more confused. More often it involves sliding in a little nod to something someone would be thinking about.

It’s an interesting issue, I think. It’s where we show a lot of our hand.

It also involved a lot of crunching.

Jamie/Matt Cover

Cassandra finally gets her head cover. Normally a cover relates to a key beat, which isn’t true here – except in the widest possible sense that it’s where Cassandra gets to say I Told You So to everyone, including herself.

Jason Latour Cover One of the fun things about commissioning these covers is getting to see a creator’s process close up. Jason’s process on this was amazingly never-ending – he was always tweaking, and trying things and moving in a different direction. Where he ended was stunning – very him, and very WicDiv too. I remember us and the Jasons semi-jokingly about swapping books for an issue – they do WicDiv for an issue and we do Southern Bastards. This cover absolutely makes me wonder how amazing that hypothetical issue would have looked.

(Our story would have been about a Taylor-Swift-esque-singer/songwriter-before-she-got-big in the town. And probably murder, as it’s Southern Bastards, right?)

IFC

That “Life goes on” still creeps me out.

1-2

Opening vignette that lets us establish what Minerva’s plan is now, as well as re-establish Beth and her crew, and actually let us define their current position, and even give their codenames, which have existed in the Bible document since issue 1, I believe.

(Oddly, calling people “Boss” is one of my verbal ticks. It seemed fun to give it to Beth here.)

As such, Minerva immediately HiveMinding them when they’ve just stated their agency is plain harsh. Jamie’s large panel on page 2 sells it incredibly well – the statues, Minerva walking away from us – it’s all so casual.

It’s also the running theme of the issue – what Mini has been doing all these years. This is just a particularly direct example of it.

Three panels on second page to try and stress the seriousness of what this is (Space = Meaning, remember). Of course, as the issue shows, this isn’t the real part of the issue – but you have to at least believe this is a real gambit. And it is – I mean, it’d be awful if Mini pulled it off. But in people’s guts they’d realise this isn’t how WicDiv goes, right?

Minor glorious Matt Wilson note – the crackle of green in panel 3 is wonderful. Give that guy another Eisner. He deserves a hat trick.

3

Show time in the showbiz and the “time to show you everything” sense.

4

Establishing the stakes and situation for the heroes. There’s a draft of the issue I wrote which is a couple more pages long, which would have pulled this out a little more. In the end, we decided it worked better shorter – I’ll tell you why when I get there, and we could use the space elsewhere.

Key thing is showing some response to Cam’s actions at the end of last issue – it’s important to know that they haven’t just walked away, right?

In the first panel, the “identify who is speaking” is a tricky one. The “say the character’s name” is a little brutal move, and I avoid it. We’re not that book. Dio is easy – and Lucifer, bless her, is immediately identifiable by her idiom. Her line also reminds people of what she’s like, which sets up the last page.

Laura’s captions here again, doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

It says so much about this issue that the last two panels are only a half page total. These are big rock and roll images, presented in a tiny space. Jamie’s composition makes it land really well, selling the drama.

Page 5

It says even more that we did all this in a page.

Tara’s move in the original version was basically a page, but looking at it structurally it actually left it even more underwhelmed – a fight kicked off, and then heroes were losing, and then Tara does this cool thing, and they’re winning, before immediately the hive mind kicks in and they’re losing again. This does not sell the joy of Giant Woman.

This works better, not least for sheer audaciousness. I used to have a thing about tableau based storytelling – the idea that you can create a large image which people can explore and juxtapose it with a few captions to create a larger conceptual space. This is very much that.

“People treating people like meat” reminds me for the second time when re-reading this issue of the line from Pratchett: “Sin is treating people like things.” The first time was the puppets bit. I’d agree with Pratchett, clearly.

In the original draft of the script I had a line “You want more? Go re-read Rising Action” which is a bit too cute, so I lost it. It’s not really the sort of thing WicDiv does, anyway.

Yes, Giant Woman is a Steven Universe nod. Putting aside that image of Giant Tara kicking ass which has been in my head forever, there’s so much to love in the image – to pick a small part, how about the Norns blasting in triplicate? We rarely see them act like this.

You can also trace via the colouring which of Beth’s crew have duplicated which God’s powers.

Page 6

There’s been a lot about people copying people’s powers in WicDiv, and trying to find out what someone can and can’t do, and then using it against them. This switches it up. The thing about being creative instead of a straight plagiarist that creative people make up new shit. That’s kind of the point of them.

Once more, Matt showing the dance of the colouring between the Woden green (haunting the series like a ghost now) and the joy of Dio is (er) a joy.

Page 7

Another Matt moment – we step out of the club, and we drop to greys, before building the energy up.

I’m not quite sure how long Robin has wanted to punch Beth for. Or how long I planned to do it, even. I can imagine Robin thinking of this a lot though – she’s the one who takes a long time to snap.

There’s a dual structure here too – there’s two main compare-and-contrast bands in WicDiv. Beth’s and Cass’…

Page 8

And this is a very different kind of band break up.

The problem here is different – I want to give much more space. First draft it seemed that they got talked into it really easily. But it’s all the space we had so what to do? Once more, captions. Silent panel with captions can be timeless, and gives room for our minds to populate it. It’s been so long I can no longer remember if the fact the two almost-silent characters are shouting, but we’re not allowed to hear, because it’s private seems relevant.

Page 9-10

Hard cut made easier with the caption. Captions are great. Trust captions.

The shot of Mini at the edge, just looking back with space either side is great. Just the isolation of it.

The “try to sing” on the page turn seems a meaningful reveal. Can she?

No she can’t. This is another very old beat in the founding documents – it’s hinted at on page 9. Mini says that she gave it up – and she said the same in issue 9. I’m not sure I believe her. When planning it I realised that some people would take it as a comment on Work for hire – don’t get stuck keeping a story alive forever, as it will eventually atrophy your talent. It wasn’t planned, but I’d be fine with it as a reading. When Chrissy read it, she took it as “Don’t get stuck in art management.” which works too. Readings are fun.

Anyway – a performance. That the big thing in the issue is a performance rather than a fight is very much WicDiv turning towards its core concept as we head towards the final straight. Of course we’d do this.

Yeah, Matt and Jamie, killing it on the final panel of the second page – the Persephone-esque tentacles made something else, because she is something else now. The numinous expression of Minerva. Amazing.

Page 11

The borders in this sequence harking back to the Persephone performance in issue 18.

I may actually try to tweak this sequence in the trade and have a different execution of “When I was 14” and all the rest, to work a little more like a LOC CAP rather than a speech. We couldn’t make it work given the time before deadline. That’s the odd thing about our extended issues – just because it’s taking longer doesn’t mean we have more time to do tasks, right? Some things are only possible when the whole thing is together. It works, I think, but part of me wants to push it harder.

Anyway – these two. I loved writing them though. I said it back in the other flashbacks, but how the two of them dance is a delight. Hell, doing them across a lifetime is a delight.

Okay – I’m going to give you a name for Ananke’s sister. It’s the one I used in my notes. It’s no more her name than “Ananke” is really Ananke’s.

It’s Demeter. Ask me about it another time.

Page 12

The “god” in panel 2 is a Proto Norn.

This primal gathering brings to mind issue 9 as well.

Demeter’s expression in the penultimate panel? Love it.

Page 13

The captions are Laura’s style, but changed colouring. That Laura is helping Minerva performs means it comes across in her voice, was our thinking.

Captions are once more useful though – trying to get something that is evocative, but also clear was the battle.

(The Colours here!)

She-in-Thirds is a name-behind-the-name. The Maiden/Mother/Child archetype – the one which Ananke subverted in a few pages time.

Page 14

I find myself thinking whether the return to a close-to-eight panel for much of this is meaningful. This is kind of Bronze Age Phonogram.

Reading this I wish I had capitalised The Rebel – it’s another archetype. Proto-Lucifer. I’ll tweak for the trade.

I forget when the metaphor for a song for the “godhood” in WicDiv came to me, but it feels like the right one. It’s how songs often feel to me.

Page 15

If you go back to issue 34, you’ll see some of the details of this plan are different to the plan that Ananke has put into play there. In fact, the deal that she strikes in issue 34 is akin to what she wants here. It’s mainly for clarity – the reader needs to be reminded of what’s actually going on, as they won’t necessarily remember the details from way back then. I figure this is the plan she wanted to do, then found something else when Demeter wasn’t into it, before swooping around to something closer.

Page 16

“After all my friends were dead” gives a little flex in the timeline.

I do like Ananke’s hat.

“The Great River” being the Nile, and the pantheon we saw back in issue 36.

In terms of lists of things in this issue I was looking forward to write, the first meeting between Ananke and Minerva was certainly one of them. I tried to get something of the oddness here. Jamie and Matt manage to get the mood of issue 34 again too – I really do like this bronze-age western vibe. There’s a project I keep on thinking about doing, and it has some of that too it. Hmm.

Yes, page width panel of character delivering a line remains a key WicDiv tool. There’s so much I love here – the touch from Ananke, whose PoV we’re in. Minerva speaking to herself, speaking to us, etc.

That the knife is just sentimental is a minor beat I’m very fond of.

Page 17

Once more, Captions, as Laura makes sure we all Get It.

One of the debates in WicDiv fandom has always been whether the gods are picked by Ananke (i.e. Anyone could be a god) or whether they’re actually people with a gifts. Of course, the answer is that it’s both.

The thing I least like about WicDiv’s mythology is that the 12 people are people with this gift, for obvious “Ugh Chosen Ones” reasons. There’s some things that mitigate that a little, I hope, and not least that it’s clearly transferable to wherever you are in life. The core of it is “if you find yourself with a gift, be careful with it and use it responsibly.” It’s a book about the power, privilege, dangers and seductions of being an artist and all that. It’s only when writing that sentence do I realise how tired I am. This has been a busy week. Excuse me if the writing is looser than usual.

Anyway, I’m probably over-worrying. If X-men is fine, we probably are too.

So – end of the page is a download of some of the explanations of stuff folk will inevitably be going “Wait – what?”

And then Tara steps up.

When you’re writing a large group scene, with limited space, there’s choices you make of who speaks and who doesn’t. Who’s going to have the strongest counter-argument to something? Who’s going to have the biggest reaction? Them. They’re the one who carries the scene.

Which is Tara. Perhaps you could make an argument for Baal, but Baal is reeling through all these issues – plus if you choose one or the other, you tie-breaker would be who hasn’t had spotlight.

Page 18-21

And the counter is equally inevitably Cassandra (who is also in the process of beating herself up). Being Cass, she puts it harshly. Clearly, this is going to get a response from Tara.. and Cass opens up herself and makes herself vulnerable. Which is a hell of a thing for her, right?

I’ll stop this – I’m just walking through the emotional flow, but I love these two women here.

Which segues into the last formalist style thing of the issue. Once again, we have a space = meaning problem. This is clearly the most important sequence of the issue, but we have so few pages. We turn to one of the core WicDiv moves of black panels in a six panel grid, and loading them up with text. Suddenly we have a sense of ritual, a lot of dialogue produced in a stylistic way and most of all a whole extra page (hence an extra page of weight).

It’s also a complete showcase for Matt. The last godly panel of them is them at their most Godly, this final little iconic burst. A confession, and it’s gone.

I cried when I got the colours for this. I forget which one it was – there’s just some wonderful Jamie expressions in there as well.

Choosing the confessions was definitely tricky. We have space, but too much is too much. Some of them I kept simple, and others needed a little space to explain. The ordering was also one of those processes where you feel out the character, and think how they’d speak. Dio would clearly jump in, then Inanna, then Mimir trying to just piece it together, and all leading to Baal.

I did try and write a Baal caption, but any words were just too small.

And then, of course…

Page 22

You’ve probably seen me talking about year 4 as Solving The Equation. Yes, we knew lots of the key things, but there’s lots of elements of the execution were worked, and rethought and discovered. I may be able to talk a little more about this in the last issue’s notes.

This was a big one. I was chewing over the synopsis and thinking… a battle against Ananke/Minerva is a little underwhelming after everything, right? At this point in the story, Minerva is a busted flush. In reality, Laura (and Demeter) won the intellectual battle against Minerva in Mothering Invention. She’s already beat her. It nagged at me. There was something else.

Then there was the other thing – I knew that Lucifer was going to get her body back, but I wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do when she had it.

The two came together: of course, the final confrontation isn’t between Laura and Minerva. It’s with Lucifer, the person who brought Laura into the world, the person who brought us all into the world. The girl who wanted to be on stage, no matter the cost. That’s the final battle.

And best of all, I had no idea what would happen.

Well – not quite, but suddenly a whole lot of things was up in the air.

Page 23

Song reference, obv. Always connected to something in my head in my early career. If I do writer notes for the playlist, I may actually tell you.

Oh – some people wondered whether all the skulls meant everyone was dead. No – it’s just there’s no god in the slot. I’m not that kind of shithead.

Anyway – issue is out tomorrow. Or maybe today, depending on where you are. It ends the story, with 45 being an epilogue with a somewhat different tone. Clearly, it’s a huge issue, so be a little careful with your tweeting. The last cover is especially a big spoiler.

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Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading.

[crimsonblackrose]

I’m officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It’s weird. Very very weird but I feel like there’s some stable ground beneath my feet. It just feels nice to not be living out of a suitcase that’s mostly business professional clothing and be reunited with comfy college t-shirts. I’ve gone through all of my stuff, mostly organized it, and set up a bookcase. As a lifelong bookworm and someone who went to college for writing, I have a lot of books. And I haven’t read all of those books. So I decided books I haven’t read or don’t remember reading will go on the bookcase. The rest will stay in their boxes.

My plan when I was expecting to come home pre-pandemic was to frequent the library but try and focus on the books I haven’t read yet that I own. I figured if there were things I desperately wanted to read that I couldn’t get at the library I’d get it for my e-reader or maybe at the store after getting a job. But then the pandemic happened and our library has only recently opened so e-reader and my TBR bookcase should get me through for a while. (Plus I can always grab something off of my aunt or uncle’s bookshelves if I need to branch out. They’ve already given me recommendations.)

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri by Dante Alighieri. This book is too big to fit on the shelves so it’s chilling at the top with my Korean Count of Monte Cristo musical book. This is one of my Dad’s books that he gave me when he moved. I’m sure I missed more that are in a box in the basement. I organized but I have lot of books so I know I missed things.f

So buckle up here’s all the books on my bookcase in no particular order. Shelf #!.

The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula K. Le Guin is a staple author for fantasy and I thought for sure I’d read this but I wasn’t 100% sure so I grabbed it anyway.

Monsterkind by Taylor C. I kickstarted this a long time ago and it’s one of the things in my boxes that I didn’t realize I had because I’m pretty sure it arrived while I was in Korea. I’ve sadly missed the cut off for book two but am pretty excited to jump into this.

This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel. I don’t know when or where I got it but looking at the tag line I can see why I found it intriguing “The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein” sounds fun.

And Another thing… Douglas Adams Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Part six of Three by Eoin Colfer. Fun fact when I was in elementary through high school I read everything Eoin Colfer I could get my hands on and I loved The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and everything I’ve read by Douglas Adams so this was a no brainer. Though I haven’t read it because I guess I don’t know what it is.Aa sequel? A prequel? Something in between? No idea, it’ll be a fun adventure.

What You Don’t Know About Men by Michael Burke. This is one of those books where I’m just staring at it wondering where it came from and why I have it.  It is signed and after deep diving my own Instagram it’s a book from college. But whether I met the author at an event, something I was volunteering for or at school is beyond me.

Gramarye City by Paul Revere Lester. This is another signed book, but I’m pretty sure it’s self published since there was nothing about it on Goodreads. Could be wrong. But this one I don’t know if it’s from high school writer’s club or what since it, like the last one references my own writing and cheers me on in the note with the signing.

Fiery Dark Secret by Emma Bown Meyer this one is also signed but doesn’t reference my own writing or any sort of cheering me on so who knows. I’m going to assume this is from a library event where the authors came and signed their books from when I was in high school.

Hush Girls by Emily Hansen. Another signed book. You could guess that I don’t read books I get signed but in this case this came out this year and it’s one of the few books I’ve recently purchased. Emily Hansen was one of my cohorts and I try my best to support my cohorts.

Lost in the City by Edward P. Jones, did I get this book because it was recommended reading in college or because it looks cool or was it gifted to me? No clue.

Zombies vs Unicorns. This is a collection of short stories about Zombies versus Unicorns. So each author picked a team and wrote a story to try and grab the reader to their side and some of my favorite authors are in this collection and it’s just super cool looking so I’m greatly looking forward to reading it.

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris, oh this book hasn’t been read out of pure spite. My department in college had this thing where we had to go and attend “literary” events and then write about them as part of our grade. The problem being there were plenty of literary events for people over the age of 21. So many readings and events that our teachers recommended did not work for those of us under the age of 21 who weren’t allowed in the bars. For one of these my friend said that a famous author had an event at Borders (RIP) on the other end of the city from where we lived. So a small group of us went all the way out to that Borders realized we weren’t early enough to sit in on the discussion which was then sold out and our best and final bet was to get a number for the book signing. So we did that and got dinner nearby. My friends had books but I had nothing to get signed. This book was one of the few ones out and on sale so I bought it and then spent the many hours left waiting in that line reading manga.

Here’s the thing. Kudos to David Sedaris’s work ethic. He’s one of those authors who will stay until everyone in line goes through as long as the place is willing to stay open. Which is super cool. But for me, a college kid who was utterly exhausted and had never even heard of the author before, showed up at 3am after waiting in line for ages to learn Mr. Sedaris either requests a joke or gives you a joke when he meets you. I really really just wanted to get the book signed so I could go back to my dorm and sleep and then write up my journal entry for class. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. And my humor isn’t really okay with cancer jokes at any time let alone 3am. So I haven’t read this book. It’s been on my shelves for ages, moved from dorm room to dorm room to boxes and forgotten. But it’s signed. And even though I’m still very bitter I’m willing to give it a shot. But I don’t have high hopes.

Listen to the Echos, The Ray Bradbury Interviews by Sam Weller, to continue with the books I’m bitter about and have been putting off reading. This book is also signed and the signing is the part that I’m a little bitter about. Again backstory time. So there’s two things you should know. One is that my school would host some pretty cool events from time to time with dinners and what not with authors or other people in the arts and one of my best college friends and her family went to this school fancy dinner at, I believe, the school’s President’s home and they very sweetly got me this book. What kills me on the inside is the signing.

Lauren!

A gift from the —– family!

Live Forever!

Sam Weller

Now you might be like well it is a gift, right? True. But the kicker. The painful kicker was that Sam Weller was my teacher. I was in his Ray Bradbury class at the time this was signed. I spent an entire semester learning about what made Ray Bradbury who he was and how his short stories and works created a ripple effect that gave us so many beloved movies, stories and idioms we have today. I loved that class. I planned to get this book myself and get it signed because I enjoyed it and the teacher so much. And this is the equivalent of getting “Have a great summer” in your yearbook. Now to be real, he probably didn’t put two and two together and at some point, I could’ve tried to get it re-signed but I didn’t. I should’ve, I wish I did. Because I remember laughing about it and taking the book to class but I chickened out. I think, in all honesty, it has to do with teachers who make huge impacts on you and then forgetting who you are when you’re not in class with them. My college departmental advisor just completely forgot who I was when I went to visit after graduating. I get it. I do, but it sure does sting.

Breverton’s Nautical Curiosities by Terry Breverton which is a delightful book about nautical things, another passion of mine from growing up. I’ve never sat down and read it but I’ve flipped through it many a time.

Feeding Hannibal a Connoisseur’s Cookbook by Janice Poon. I loved this TV show and I’m forever in awe of Janice Poon and how she made the food look appetizing but also vaguely human (gross, very gross) while also edible for the cast. I bought this in Korea at the Seoul Comic Con and brought it home.

Healing Herbal Teas: A Complete Guid to Making Delicious, Healthful Beverages by Brigitte Mars, A.H.G. I don’t know if you know this but I love tea. I’m warming up to coffee in the same way I am to booze, as long as I don’t taste it we’re good. But with tea I’m obsessed. This was a gift. I haven’t set about reading it but I am curious about it.

Onto shelf #2

East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I’m not sure if other majors have this but my department while I was there was pretty obsessed with this book. Not teacher’s necessarily but my cohorts talked about it a lot and said they loved it or talked about how it shaped them. So I bought it. Don’t know why since one of the go-to books that drew a lot of students to our school and department because the teacher worked there  creeped me out but hey, willing to give this massive book a try.

The Revenge of the Shadow King by Derek Benz and J.S. Lewis. This is a book that’s been on my shelf a long time. Probably since around when it came out in 2005 that I just kept putting off reading even though I knew I wanted to read it. I’m a sucker for fantasy novels with fey or even a twisty dark vibe to them.

Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev. I’m going to be honest, bought this book because of the cover. It was a pretty art style with faeries of some kind.

The Magicina of Hoad by Margaret Mahy, for a paperback this book is super shiny. Not sure if that’s why I got it or because anything genre tended to grab my attention in high school.

Timeline by Michael Crichton. In my first year of college, my group of friends and I had a secret Santa and the person who had me didn’t have a clue what to get me except books. So he decided to do one of my favorite things ever which was to get me some books that were his favorites. This is one of them that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.

Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan. I’ve been saving this one. I spent most of high school and college devouring any nightmarish adventure Darren Shan concocted. The Thin Executioner is still one of my favorites despite being so ghastly. This one though I remember spotting at the store and going “how dare no one tell me he’d come out with a new book?” And grabbing it. However after living overseas so long I’m sure I’m behind on a lot of books and authors I used to keep up to date on before.

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Sorceress, The Necromancer and the Magician by Michael Scott. You may remember I’ve read the first in this series and did not enjoy it. But I heard from some other readers that the series gets better and since I have these three books as hard backs which aren’t cheap I’m determined to read them and give them a shot before…probably donating them.

Lost in Space by Ben Tanser. My college hosted a literary event every year while I was there called Story Week. They invited authors and publishers and agents to celebrate books and share what they knew and it was free. As a person who volunteered for it several times it means I’m not sure if I bought all the books I own or if I just got some of the books and this is one of them. I know the publisher was big with our school, our teachers and faculty loved Curbside Splendor, but again I don’t know. This isn’t signed so I think it’s a case of I got it to better understand the publisher and then didn’t get around to reading it because I had big paper’s due like every other day and required reading as well as job and club responsibilities. How I got any fun reading done is beyond me.

The Old Neighborhood by Bill Hillmann is one that I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t read before now. It’s signed and the author came to class to talk to us about his work because he was good friends with our teacher. He seemed pretty cool and still does. He usually does the Running of the Bulls in Spain and actually got pretty injured one year and made international news.

Where’d you go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I got this book for free as part of “World Book Night U.S. April 23, 2014” which is pretty cool but I did not read it when I think I was supposed to. Nearly over 6 years late on that one. Sorry World Book Night.

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I don’t know about this one. Did I get it because movies were being adapted of Ayn Rand’s work? Did I get it because people were talking about it? Did I get it just out of curiosity because her work is so polarising and pretty much as hated as Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey were within my cohort? Was it on a list of books to read? Not a clue. I’ve read Atlas Shrugged since and looking at the size of this book it’s going to be a long journey of tiny print.

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. My local public library when I was growing up would participate in a book event where they’d pick a book and then everyone could sign up for that book and they’d host events related to it. Like a big massive book club. Chicago did it too with Neverwhere and many others. I signed up, got the book and then…didn’t read it.

The Princess and the Pirates: The Timelight Stone by Mio Chizuru. This book is a library book. A high school library book that they stamped with rejected and removed all the stuff on it. I assume I got this from a book sale of our library getting rid of books or the librarian just told me she was getting rid of books and since I was working there during my free periods repairing books. The bonus I guess of being a constant presence. It looks like manga but it’s actually a novel, so it’ll be interesting.

Emerald Death by Bill Craig I’m not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure this was from my childhood public library again. It’s signed and I think it was from one of the author events.

The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet this is like Lost in Space. I bought this so I could better understand the publication because my genre teachers were full of praise for Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and honestly loved the style. But got too busy to read it. I’m sure I have another collection or two for a different publisher in my boxes somewhere but that can wait. I’ve never really been one to read anthologies or collections of short stories so these types of books usually fall a bit on my TBR list. But I should read them.

Push and The Kid by Sapphire. Both of these are signed and were from a literary event while I was in college through the Harold Washington Library. I think I attended an interview at the library where she discussed her work. From what I remember I know these books aren’t going to be the happiest so I am pretty sure that’s why I’ve set them aside.

The final shelf time.

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.  I borrowed this book in high school from my dad because we were supposed to read it in English and then…never did. I don’t know why. We probably we got too busy in the other books we were supposed to read that we also never finished. Like Julius Ceaser by Shakespeare that we just stopped reading after he died. So, thank you, Dad, for letting me keep it along with all the others.

The Three Theban Plays by Sophocles, this book is pretty beaten up but I always grab classics even if 70% of the time I hate them. This was probably for a class, quite possibly the most frustrating class I ever took, or I found it cheap somewhere.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo I picked this up in Paris. Pretty sure I read some copy of this in high school in French and I’ve seen the musical in Korean and the movie version as well as the old film of the musical my French teacher had…but we’ll see how I remember it as I go with the translated English.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. I also got this in Paris. I’ve never read it but after learning about how it single handedly saved Notre Dame I feel like I have to.

Redwall: The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques. This is the last book Brain Jacques wrote that was published posthumously. I loved Redwall so much and I’m pretty sure I’ve read almost every novel Brian Jacques wrote. When he died I was heartbroken and I got the book but just couldn’t bring myself to read it.

Artemis Fowl the Atlantis Complex by Eoin Colfer, I loved the Artemis Fowl series when I was younger and I really want to jump into this book which is book 7 in the series but I think I’m going to have to go back through my boxes and find the rest of them before reading book seven. It’s been waaaayyyy too long.

The Faeman Quest by Herbie Brennan is another series I absolutely adored when I was younger. Again it’s another where it’s been so long I’ll probably have to re-read the previous books in The Faerie Wars Chronicles to fully understand what’s going on here.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. Up to this point I was fairly good at reading all of Neil Gaiman’s works. And attending any event he had in Chicago. This one I remember going to with a bunch of friends at the Music Box theater and then staying up late with them to get it signed. It was a fun event but I was saving it to read later since it’s a small book.

Silas Marner by George Eliot not sure where this one came from but I haven’t read it so here it is. I recognize the title though but don’t know why.

A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix. I love books by Garth Nix he’s one of those authors in Zombies vs Unicorns but I haven’t gotten around to reading this one or even finishing the series of his I started and loved when I was younger. (I don’t like things to end)

Swords of Riverside by Ellen Kushner. This has harlequin romance vibes from the cover but also older fantasy/historical novel vibes. Don’t know where I got it or why but it’ll be interesting for sure. Very curious to see which it falls into or if just the long hair blown back by invisible wind on the male character was just for fun.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, middle school/high school me might not have jumped on the Uglies train whenever one else did but I apparently went ahead and got this book by the author. (Fun fact he’s also in Zombies vs Unicorns). I assume I grabbed it because of the familiar author name and the steampunk vibe of the cover.

Seven Sorcerers by Caro King has a spooky-looking cover with magic vibes, my go to when I was younger.

Changeling by Delia Sherman, when I tell you any sort of fantasy fey adventure or magic novel usually ended up on my shelf just because it fell into that category I’m not joking. This cover is kinda creepy and weird but I can see why I got it because of the title. Oh boy.

These are the books that I plan to read for the most part of the rest of this year. Mixing in e-books and maybe some old ones. There are more books on my bookcase but those are reference or books I’ve read but didn’t remember until I started making this list and realized I had. I also have several books that I didn’t realize were book 6 of a series where I haven’t read or own book one through five. So that’s going to require being set aside until I can check books out from the library. (I’m putting it off because I’m trying to figure out how to renew my library card that’s been inactive for over 5 years during a pandemic)

Anyway wish me luck.

What are some books you’ve had on your shelf for a long time and haven’t gotten rid of but also haven’t read yet?

TBR Bookcase tour I'm officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It's weird. Very very weird but I feel like there's some stable ground beneath my feet.

[lostinfantasies38]

OC Interview - Sirra Brosca

This is post-Blight Sirra, so if you haven’t played a dwarven origin story in DA:O, some of the answers may be spoilers.  It didn’t make sense to imagine her being interviewed prior to ending the Blight since they are fugitives the whole time.  You have been warned.

name ➔ She smiles brightly, turning her expression impish among her triple casteless brands and eclectic mix of facial piercings.  “Sirra Brosca”

are you single ➔ “Nope.” She playfully pops the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

are you happy ➔ “I am, now. It took a long time to get to that point.”

are you angry ➔ She shrugs.  “Not really. I am defensive of those I care about, but I haven’t been angry since leaving Orzammar.”

are your parents still married ➔ Sirra laughs as loud as her raspy vocal cords will allow before flashing him a wicked smirk.  “They never were, friend.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “Dust Town, Orzammar.  I’ll spare you the details.”

hair color ➔ “Dark brown. But it’s easily mistaken for black.  For a long time in the shit lighting of Dust Town even I thought it was black.”

eye color ➔ “Also dark brown. Someone once said they reminded them of smoky topaz, which was...” She clears her throat and blinks back tears.  “Uh, yeah, really nice of them.”

birthday ➔ Furrowing her brows and scrunching her nose, she mutters softly to herself. “Right, Alistair said this is 9:32 Dragon, so...counting backwards...which he taught me to do...fuck...uhhh -” Counts on her fingers.  “9:11 Dragon!  I was born in 9:11 Dragon - no idea the month or the day.  Dusters don’t have calendars.”  She teases with a wink.

mood ➔ “Oh!  Like, right now?  I’m good.”

gender ➔ “I’m a woman.” 

summer or winter ➔ Humming appreciatively, she smiles wistfully. “I love summer. Everything is so...bright and happy.  I never get tired of standing under the trees and watching the light swirl on the ground.”

morning or afternoon ➔ “Evenings, actually.  Alistair and I catch up with each other at the end of our long days and talk.  And sunsets are my favorite.  The whole sky turns pink and this...muted orange!  It’s the best part of the day.” Her dark eyes are unfocused as she recalls a personal memory while a small smile plays on her full lips.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Unable to restrain her broad grin or the mischievous glint in her sultry gaze, she chuckles softly.  “Have you seen Alistair?  Yes, I’m crazy about that man.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Pursing her lips as though trying to restrain a smirk, she replied. “Most definitely.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ She glances away. “Let’s just say it ended...and leave it at that.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “No...I don’t think so.” Muttering indistinctly with a worried frown, she finally shakes her head and sighs.

are you afraid of commitment ➔ “Not...anymore.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “I hugged Alistair before he left Vigil’s Keep on a mission, but that was two weeks ago.  Umm, oh!  Sigrun gave me a hug yesterday when I gave her a spicy Nevarran…” She laughs hoarsely again, flushing in minor embarrassment.  “The answer to your question is: yes.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “No!” She snorts and quirks her right eyebrow, calling attention to the golden hoop in it.

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Tears fill her eyes, unbidden, and her voice is slightly strangled when she answers. “Yes.” 

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Love.”

lemonade or iced tea ➔ Her face lights up. “Iced tea!”

cats or dogs ➔ “Ugh, can we go with - no pets?  I know some people like dogs, but mabari are...large. And...toothy.  I mean, they stand as tall as I do!  One of my recruits has a cat, but I’m not very fond of them either. They smell weird.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste, pulling her nose ring up and catching the light. “I do like birds - listening to them sing and watching them fly. But it would be cruel to cage one, so I just watch.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Definitely a few best friends.  I have a hard time opening up to people, but I have a close circle of friends that I trust with my life.”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Oh, night in for sure!  We did so much traveling for a year and half ending the Blight and I...what’s the human idiom?  ‘Sowed my wild oats’ in my days with the Carta.  When we have time to spend together, Alistair and I make sure to cherish it.”  She smiles tenderly with a faint blush.

day or night ➔ “Both. I love that being on the surface gives you options. Honestly, Orzammar is totally wrong about living topside.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Sneaking out?  No.  And not sneaking in, either. I am a damn good rogue.”  She laughs playfully.

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Maybe…” She snickers to herself.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Ancestors, yes.” She clears her throat, seemingly startled by the raw emotion that filled her words and blushes.

wanted to disappear ➔ “No. I’ve made it a point to show up everyone who told me I should.” Briefly, her gaze hardens and she sets her jaw with determination, looking every bit the Hero of Ferelden.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “I can’t choose...Alistair has the best I’ve ever seen and trying to pick one over the other is impossible.”

shorter or taller ➔ She grins. “Taller. Much taller.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ Rolling her eyes, she blows out a frustrated breath before answering. “Alistair would say attraction, because he doesn’t know how damn smart he actually is. I have no idea what he sees in me,” she mutters.

hook-up or relationship ➔ “Relationship.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ She snorts. “Well, if you don’t count my mother, then yes.  My sister and I are very close even though I choose to live here.  It helps that I’m a Paragon and related to King Bhelen through marriage.  I can stay on the surface and not worry about losing my new caste.” She laughs and tries to hide a wicked smirk.

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I would say it’s a complicated life.  But for once I am the one in charge of it, so I can’t complain.”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “If you count being conscripted into the Grey Wardens as ‘running away,’ then yes.  And I’m damn glad I did, too.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “I was born casteless and then became an exile for a year and a half.  My entire life, until I moved to the surface, revolved around being kicked out or denied entry literally everywhere.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I only share certain things about myself with a select few, but I still love them all. It’s nice to completely trust the people in my life. I don’t have to worry about one of them selling me out to the Carta boss for a promotion.”

who is your best friend ➔ “Alistair.  And then Leliana, or Sister Nightingale, as she is called now, and of course, Sigrun.  She understands what I had to do to get here better than anyone.”

who knows everything about you ➔ She laughs, momentarily taken aback when another richer laugh joins her as he saunters into the room through a side door.  “Alistair!” 

She flies off the chair and throws herself into his arms as he kneels on the ground to pull her close to his chest.  As they whisper sweetly to each other, the Seneschal of Vigil’s Keep coughs and pointedly directs me to the exit.

[study-van]

can you give us some tips on learning french?

Hello anon!! So sorry for the late reply, honestly tumblr didn’t notify me so I just saw this when I got on my computer.  I will try to help by dividing this in 4 parts: grammar, vocabulary, verbs, speaking/listening. Bear in mind I had to learn French in one school year and it was pretty intense (I got into a french hs so nearly all my lessons are in french).

Grammar

So while learning I generally referred to this book (I actually had to buy a copy of it bc it was a must material of our school). It explains every grammar subject pretty simply with amazing examples and how they are used in real life, plus it explains verbs too.

In addition, in my first year I bought a medium sized notebook and wrote down every subject dividing in them to sections. This helped me a lot to see how things can be used in real life too. Lastly, if I got confused on a subject I never shied away from asking my teachers. If you are self thought, I heard that Learn French with Alexa on youtube is pretty helpful but personally I have never tried it.

Vocab

In school, our grammar subjects did vary a lot. One lesson we were learning utensils next it was elements of fairy tales. To not get confused I bought a cheap binder from Aliexpress and some loose leafs (again I bought the cheapest I found) and actually divided my binder into sections like house, work, restaurants etc. and complied what I learned into each section. I actually still continue with this and I am going to my fifth and last year. Plus, I went wild with colors. 

Furthermore, quizlet is a god sent gift to us all to help us better learn vocabulary. After writing the vocabs of each lesson (I would do it right after the lesson at home, to you know procrastinate and leave it to last second), that weekend I would challenge myself using quizlet (again beware I had 25 hours of french in that first hell year).

Verbs

Firstly, as the french would say tu devrais apprendre par cœur; pouvoir (to be able), vouloir (to want) and aller (to go). If you don’t know how to conjugate a verb these are your saviors, you can always use an infinitif of a verb after these three. It’s always a much better alternative to guessing it wrong, french verbs are super tricky, I am looking at you troisième groupe. In addition to them, know your être and avoir they are the second most helpful ones.

Also again quizlet is your best friend. Plus, I have used a small notebook for verb types too while referring to Nouvelle Grammaire du Français. While speaking about verb types french has some super weird ones like subjonctif which even some of my native french friends struggle with using correctly so don’t beat yourself up if it seems tricky, take your time. For example, it took me three years and living in France for two months to understand it.

Speaking/Listening

So personally for listening unlike some people I don’t prefer watching or listening things with subtitles in my native language, I always use french subtitles and it even helps me develop my vocabulary and idiom knowledge. As for shows you wan watch, it may sound childish but while I was in my first year Miraculous Ladybug was just coming out and it was my closest friend, it is also an amazing practice. It is a children show so the language is much easier to understand than regular shows. I also really enjoyed watching the French version of Skam. I also watched a ton of French romcoms and comedy films like Le Chef. 

As for songs you can listen to personally I really enjoy ZAZ, Edith Piaf and Angèle. You can find all of their songs in every streaming service. I also listen to lots of French podcasts  during my commute (I generally refer to the website I linked but it is more on the advanced side)

So speaking, this is something stupid I used to do but sometimes after taking a shower or during my skincare time I speak to myself in french basically telling nonsense or making up stories, it actually helped me a lot to think in french which I believe is one of the key parts to speaking fluently. Also, I was blessed enough to actually live in France for some time which I know not most people are able to do but what you can do is find a french correspondent. I can also say that shadowing is an amazing method while listening or watching something try to repeat what they are saying with the same manner. 

Finally, to make the perfect French accent you can refer to this masterpost which has different explanations for every sound.

I hope I was able to help :)

[teamvnla]

Cutscene ; Hunt

They had been mic’d up, they all wore their civilian clothes not wanting to draw too much attention. The fact they still had their weapons on them wouldn’t go unnoticed but it wouldn’t draw too much attention.

“Okay, I snagged one of these for you.” Russ approached Lye handing her a standard White Fang mask. “Kash and Van are going to act as higher up and we’ll be just your normal rally attender.” He explained holding up his matching mask.

“I know something like this is probably a bit uncomfortable for you, but just remind yourself that we’re doing this to find your friend.” He reminded quietly with a soft smile.

———

“You’re sure this will work?” Tarragon questioned as they were having their final meeting.

“Yeah, this isn’t our first rodeo.”

“What?”

“It basically means that this isn’t out first time doing this.”

“Oh, that’s a weird way to put it.”

“It an idiom, they’re all kinda like that.”

———

The two groups split, COAL staying in the suite to monitor from there and MKRL leaving to the rally, they had tested earlier to make sure that they were close enough to not have to deal with interference. As they continued making their way to the rally Kash spoke up.

“Who do we want for this job?” He asked looking to Van, this situation felt so similar to how they were just a few years ago. The main differences were the fact that they weren’t going to this rally as actual members and the fact that Russ was in the field with them.

“I think Hori would be good for this job.” Van responded after a small pause to think, Kash nodded taking a short moment to review what traits they had given to “Hori.”

“Hori?” Lye questioned.

Russ was about to explain before he remembered they were mic’d up. “I‘ll explain it to you later.”

The closer they grew to the warehouse they began to split up, Lye felt the nerves bundle in her belly.

“This way, you’re with me.” Russ grabbed Lye’s hand leading her to the main enterance, Van and Kash had separated heading to a back enterance making sure to stay steps away from one another.

———

Upon entering the warehouse each of the Faunus slipped on their mask, the ones Van and Kash had red markings respective of the Grimm closest to their trait.

He hadn’t touched the mask in so long, barely even able to touch it let alone throw it away. What was stopping him from just tossing it into a forest or river? Anytime prior he didn’t want to look at it, yet held onto it maybe for a time like this? It had also been a long time since he had been to a rally, he took a deep breath making his way towards the back of the room hanging more in the shadows.

The approach Kash was taking was the opposite, he was making his way through that crowds. A wide smile across his lips as he greeted and conversed with the rally attendants and organizer, he seemed like a different person from who Jae and the others had met at the Lavender Estate.

The rally wasn’t Lye had expected, she had thought it was going to be more secretive and cultish even. However, the atmosphere was excitable. It was a room full of excited chatter, she couldn’t help but watch curiously.

Her engagement was genuine, while his was more of a mimic of the obvious first attenders around.

“Pay attention to the entrances and exits, if we’re lucky then they’ll stick out easily. If not then maybe they’ll actually try to blend in.” Opal commented through the comms broadcasting to all four Faunus.

——

The three boys went through the rally trying to gain information in various ways, Lye managed to strike up a few conversation though they ended up about the rally speakers. Without realizing it she found herself separated from Russ, her attention left the speaker and began to look around for Russ.

She nearly stiffened feeling the strong presence next to her, the aura the radiated off of the presence was something she hadn’t felt from any of the other attendants.

“Is this your first rally?” The man asked, he was tall with broad shoulders. A scaled tail swayed under the deep cloak the man wore, more than anything the owl mask he wore stood out. They weren’t trying to blend in, or this one wasn’t at least.

“No, well my first in Mistral.” She responded she brought a hand up scratching the side of her neck bumping the earpiece she wore in an attempt to draw the attention of the group back at the hotel.

Opal turned up Lye’s mic, waiting to see if it had just been an accident.

“Oh? Where were you before?”

“Vacuo.”

“Were you apart of the Fang there too?”

“Yeah..” She paused.

“Tell him you’re a newer member.”

“I’m fairly new..” She gave a sheepish chuckle to seem a bit embarrassed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing an owl mask? I though members built off the standard masks?”

At the mention of the owl mask Opal tuned in the boys earpieces to Lye, the others of COAL focused in as well.

“Its actually from a group partnering with the White Fang.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m actually one of the original members.” He bragged a grin spreading across his lips. “We don’t give these mask to White Fang helping us though.”

“Wow, that really makes you stand out huh?” She commented, she was good at reading someone who was trying to flirt with her.

“Actually we’re looking for some people to join us for out next raid, are you interested?” He stepped closer to her wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Me?”

“Yeah, even if you’re not much of a fighter I’m sure there something we could find for you to do. Especially for a cute bunny such as yourself. Meet me in the alley behind this place after the rally finish, then I’ll get you all filled in.” He had leaned in closer as if she was telling her a secret, she forced herself to smile sweetly and nod despite the urge to shove him away from her. As the man eventually let go and slinked off into the crowd he tapped her cheek affectionately, once he was out of earshot she turned away leaning into her mic slightly.

“Did you get all that?” She let her face drop trying to shake the feeling of the guy’s hand off her. 

“Loud and clear, bun.” Cherry responded through the mic. “Try to keep track of who that guy starts talkin’ to, it safe to say he’s the one sent to scout people for whatever they’re planning or at least the one for this rally.”

———

Lye entered the back ally, her ears shifting at the sounds around her. If he was trying to induct her into his gang or whatever couldn’t he have chosen a better place.. Her gaze focused in on a figure further into the alley, he still wore his mask an cloak, it looked like she was the only one who came. The boys had made quick work with deferring the other people the man had talked to.

“You came.”

“How could I miss an opportunity like this?” She forced another sweet smile.

“Apparently you’re the only one who realized what a privilege this is.”

“Eh, not the only one.” Van stated hopping down from the roof into the ally way.

“Always one to make an enterance, aren’t you?” Kash commented coming out from where he had been hidden, a soft glowing ripple appeared at his feet.

“Hope you don’t mind the company.” Russ chuckled, a matching ripple around his feet. He had used his semblance to mask the noise.

Realizing what was happening the cloaked man took off down the alley, in a momment Van and Russ were after him. Kash was about to turn to catch up, but noticed Lye’s lost expression.

“Come on, you don’t want to miss the best part.” He commented grabbing her hand and leading to catch up with the owl masked man, with how the boys navigated the situation it was safe to assume that this wasn’t their first chase like this. They chased the man following him with ease, he had even resorted to running up onto rooftops in an attempt to lose them. He didn’t lose them, but he did surprise them not with the fact he did in fact run up the wall. A flow emitted from the bottom of his shoes, whether that was a semblance or a gadget they weren’t sure yet.

He paused on top of an apartment building, scurrying from edge to edge, the gap between the building was too wide for him to jump onto the next rooftop or to jump close enough to stick onto the wall of the taller building. Nothing to climb either, he couldn’t turn and run behind him no doubt they were behind him. As he made his decision to fight his way through this. Turning around he charged forward, pulling a giant shuriken form under his cloak, he launched it at Van before focusing his attention on Russ taking a swing. Van had ducked dodging the flying shuriken, his ears flicked he listened to guess which side it would come back on to decided on which way to go. Russ released his axe from his back shifting it into it’s hammer form as he swung on reptile Faunus causing him to dodge closer to Van. Realizing this he back up, also knowing he needed to be in the right spot for his weapon to return to him.

He lifted his hand up expectantly however the blade never returned to him, in a momment of confusion he whipped his head towards the direction it should have came from, only to see that Van had an arm outstretched. The rabbit had stepped towards where to shuriken would be coming from rather than a way, disarming him I immediately.

Van tossed the weapon to the floor behind him, both boys began to close in on him. He quickly darted to the left only to see Kashmere hop upon the roof closer than he expected, he quickly turned around only to be face with Lye who already had both her pistols trained on him. Cursing under his breath he turned taking off in Kashmere’s direction, that was only one not visibly armed probably his best chance to get away.

It’s seemed like the best answer in the situation, well until Kashmere started to pick up his pace and before the ice had started to form around his fist.

“Ouch. That’s gonna bruise.” Russ commented as he watch the ice gauntlet Kash had formed make contact with the lizard Faunus’ face.

“How much you wanna bet his nose is broken?”

“We’ll cuff him and bring him back to the hotel, unless you figured out somewhere else?” Russ spoke into his mic as he began to walk over to Kash and the now unconscious Faunus, prompting the conversation to where to take the man.

Van was about to head over until he noticed Lye, she was still frozen in the same position she had been when they cornered the man. “You good?” He asked softly brows quirking showing genuine concern.

“Yeah, yeah. Just surprised, I guess.” She muttered holstering her pistols with a small shake of her head.