#until I finish the sequel nobody asked for

[kiztae]

warmth [II] ― c.beomgyu x f.reader

wc: 3.7k

genre: frenemies to lovers, slight fluff, suggestive, smut.

summary: you and beomgyu used to be childhood bestfriends, but you drifted apart and became more dismissive of each other. you both snicker and tease each other, but there's always a feeling of something more being there. perhaps a beach trip can manage to make you guys closer, maybe closer than ever. (SEQUEL TO THIS)

cw: smut, fingering, protected sex, penetration, grinding, slight bit of angst, slight bit of insecurity from reader and beomgyu, fucking with people in another room? (they're unaware though)

a/n: finally posting this. i know some people were waiting for it, so i hope you enjoy!! (a bit rushed but it’s still cute.)

ever since yesterday, you and beomgyu didn't know how to act. the usual bickering and playful mood were turning into more of a slightly awkward but also tense atmosphere.

you both had fallen asleep after your... moment. however, beomgyu was gone after you had woken up, the past comfort of his warmth nowhere to be found on the other side of the bed.

because of this, you had assumed that maybe he wasn't feeling completely good about it. maybe some dwelling on it made him realize what happened more clearly. you had to admit, you were a bit confused by it too.

sure, you both had some sexual tension growing between the both of you for a while now. but it didn't help that much with this new event. you guys were still childhood friends, and recent... frenemies?

consequently, you opted to think that beomgyu was maybe feeling a bit shy or awkward. even though inside, you were dreading the fact that he was regretting it and avoiding you.

"y/n?"

"huh?"

"i asked you to help beomgyu with the dishes. wake up honey!" your mom chuckled as she noticed your dumbfounded expression.

thankfully, your mom snapped you out of your overwhelming thoughts, making you walk towards the kitchen sink.

whatever. it's whatever. if he regrets it, he regrets it. if it's something else, it's something else. stop bothering yourself with all this.

"took you long enough. at this point the night breeze is about to dry these plates faster than you." beomgyu commented as he saw you stand next to him and grab a plate to dry it.

"really? well i bet that if i gave a kid these plates, he would make them three times cleaner than this." you bite back, not meeting his gaze, part of you a bit annoyed at his lack of communication the whole day.

"you could never clean these like i do." he states, looking up and smirking, like he was royalty. it amused you a bit, beomgyu always did something that made you laugh. but this time, you didn't want to give him much of a reply.

"oh, i'd hope nobody ever cleans them like you do." you continue, starting to put the dry dishes away into the kitchen cabinets.

"hah! sure. you're just jealous of my skills."

"hm, didn't know you had any sort of skills. in like, anything?"

right after you finished your sentence, the sounds of beomgyu scrubbing the dishes stopped, the water still running. you were a bit disorientated, not knowing what he was doing.

until you felt him stand behind you, his body pressed up against yours. again.

"i'll have you know i'm skilled at a lot of things." he murmurs behind you. "and i bet... you'd like some of those things." he resumes, as he brushes his hand over your thigh, then your hip, and finally your waist, leaving it there.

your words were caught in your throat, not being able to mutter even a mediocre response to him, the feeling of him so close to you making you flustered.

"guys, are you done yet?" beomgyu's mom asked as she walked inside the kitchen. your eyes widened when you heard her footsteps coming close.

beomgyu's other hand moved up to the kitchen cabinet, reaching for it, as his other hand placed itself on the counter. you just stayed still and then looked at her with an apologetic smile.

"yup, just helping y/n close the cabinet! you know how short she is mom." he brushes off with a small laugh.

luckily, beomgyu's mother didn't really pay much mind to it and just told you both to wrap things up and go to your room, leaving soon after.

"move, beomgyu." you command, turning around and glaring at him with a frown. your cheeks were still shining a small tone of pink, making your expression not look nearly as intimidating as you wanted.

still, beomgyu backed off, frowning himself, feeling a bit attacked. he knew you both always fought and fooled around, but you looked genuinely mad. he didn't like that.

"hey- are you- are you mad?" he asked, looking for your eyes, while you just turned around, avoiding his.

"you figure that out, i'm going upstairs." you sigh, walking away from him before he could reply.

honestly, you didn't want to be so immature about it, but you just couldn't stand him being like that after leaving you earlier.

"so fucking cold-" you shivered, tiptoeing towards your spot on the bed. the pajamas you had packed for the beach trip weren't doing anything for you. you thought the night weather would be similar to the sunny hot breeze in the day, but you were so wrong. the night breeze was icy, your tank top and pajama pants making it hit you with all it's might.

once you got to the bed, you hurriedly covered your legs and waist with the blanket, sitting down and trying your best to warm yourself up. you grabbed your phone and started to reply to some messages, as well as scrolling through some apps.

the door creaked, making you look up from your phone, your stare meeting beomgyu's as he came in.

not a word was exchanged between you two, both not knowing very well what to say. he went inside the bathroom to change, and you opted to lay down already, and try to go to sleep.

when he came out, you were already turning your back to him, the lights turned off, the covers unsettled, and your figure blurred by the darkness.

beomgyu internally sighed and got on the bed, settling himself on his side. nonetheless, he was not going to sleep. he couldn't do that after you left like that earlier.

"y/n."

silence.

"y/n?"

silence.

"y/n. please."

he moved over closer to you, not too close, but closer.

"did i go overboard? was it- was it bad? i'm sorry- i thought we both wanted it. i just- i admit i was... really turned on by you... so i acted out on it- but i'm sorry, it was wrong. i really thought-" his words were coming out like a wave, all so rushed and piling over.

"it's not that!" you cut him off, turning around and sitting up, finally facing him.

his mouth shut close and he looked at you with his brows furrowing to the side, just like a lost puppy.

"you, you left earlier. i woke up alone. and then you- you just didn't talk to me?" you explain, looking around, searching for the right words. "i just didn't understand. we did... something. and to not see you or talk to you after that, was confusing. yeah, i was embarrassed and i knew we could be awkward maybe, but it was odd."

"oh. oh shit. y/n i'm sorry." beomgyu's frown turned over, making him look mad. and he was mad at himself. he forgot to even explain anything to you.

you didn't know. you didn't know that beomgyu had been woken up by his mother knocking on the door and telling him to come help with some things around the beach house. making him leave your side without being able to explain anything. even more so, his mother had him running around the house and the beach, making him do all sorts of chores, which made it impossible to talk to you, until now.

he explained everything to you, telling you every single chore his mom made he do, every single moment he wanted to talk to you but couldn't. it all made sense now, and you were so relieved.

"i'm sorry. i didn't realize. i just, i got in my head and i overthought everything." you say, your body moving closer to him unconsciously, searching for his warmth.

"we both fucked up y/n. we're stupid." he let out, stifling a small laugh.

"woah hey, don't put me on the same level as you-" you retort, feeling comfortable enough to dive back into your old dynamic.

"oh, shut up!" his eyes roll up and he smiles soon after, this new mood making it all feel better.

"weird. i thought you didn't want me to?" you mock him, clearly challenging him to see what would happen next.

for a second his mouth opens, ready for a response, but then it closes back. his mind goes haywire as he remembers the words he said to you, the acts he did on you, and the things you said. his cheeks are soon stained with a bright pink shade, his eyes wide and his mouth firmly shut.

"that-" he pauses, a wave of embarrassment brushing over him.

has he ever felt this embarrassed? the choi beomgyu, was being utterly shy and quiet.

"that's so different y/n." his voice marks a more serious tone, his gaze meeting yours. the blush on his cheeks is prominent, but even more so, the almost hidden shimmer in his eyes makes him look so gorgeous.

you both stare at each other, the atmosphere in the room thickening with each breath you took. you were both sitting down in the very same bed from last night, facing each other, your bodies longing for the other's.

"gyu—"

before you even try to form a sentence, his hands find shelter on the sides of your neck, pulling you in.

the short breaths exchanged between kisses echo around the room, making it too easy to get lost in the warmth of beomgyu's embrace. whatever coldness you felt before was long gone, your body felt like it was on fire, every clash of your mouths with each other making your temperature skyrocket.

"let me touch you- please-" beomgyu pleads, detaching his lips from yours but sticking his forehead against yours instead. his hands were stilled just behind your lower back, waiting for your response. to be honest, beomgyu was about to go insane if he waited any longer. it took all of his self control not to manhandle you and feel every single bit of your body.

"yes- do everything you want gyu." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly.

"fuck- don't say that." he sighs, furrowing his brows and letting his head drop down into the crook of your neck.

"touch me." you inquire, the tone in your voice so soft that it makes him twitch in his pants. his hands roughly grasped your waist, placing you right on top of his hard on.

his breath immediately hitched when your clothed core came in contact with his crotch. his eyelashes fluttered and his mouth gaped with the electric feeling of it. your hands move down to gather his, sliding them from your waist down to your hips. he takes the hint and assists you by pressing you against his bulge, making you grind down on him.

"mmh" a moan slips past your lips, your eyes shutting closed and your palms flying up to his chest to stabilize yourself.

"so that's how you like it?" his voice deepens, the timbre of it lowering down and revealing some cockiness in it with each word.

you can only nod in response, choosing to drop your head down, your eyes opening and being met with the sight of beomgyu's hips moving up into you. it looked so lewd, the rhythmic thrust of his pelvis against your heat.

"y/n.. so good.. you feel so good.." he praises into your ear, his voice husky and vibrating against your skin. right after his comment, he nips at your earlobe, bitting it softly and earning a small gasp from you. the grinding against his erection made you fuzzy and warm inside, it all felt like a fever dream. you were burning inside and out, his hands starting to roam around your body until they found their place on your breasts.

"so pretty. so so pretty y/n." he whispers, his eyes not leaving your breasts, hypnotized by the heaving of your chest.

just as beomgyu started to lower his head down to your chest, starting to bite and nibble at the skin that he had now exposed, your hand began to lower his shorts, not a single thought in your mind other than needing him.

"w-wait.." his head quirks up, his face flushed, ears red, lips puffy and eyes glossy.

"d-did i go too far?" you hesitate, fearing you might have crossed a boundary.

"no! no.. it's just.." he mutters, looking away shyly.

"s-should we stop?" you offer, feeling incredibly ashamed of the ideas in your mind.

"—no! please-" he opposes, furrowing his brows, both of his pupils shaking as they broke through yours.

"so.. what now?" you look down to the tent in his pants and the small wet patch that formed on top of his sweatpants. his hands started to inch down slowly, calculating every swift across your thigh until it reached down between your legs. then, his hand cups your heat, his middle finger starting to trace up and down your slit, tempting you.

“let me do it for you. please." he purrs into your neck, nipping at the skin and licking the cherry tinted marks on it. you swallowed, once, twice, and then melted into his touch. your breath joint with his, frantic and hot.

he hooked his finger on the elastic of your panties and hooked them to the side. "sorry, i'm—" you were swollen, plump and wet. you didn't think you were capable of getting so wet, so fast, but apparently you were. "beautiful." he wasn't really talking to you, more like he was thinking out loud. "can i?"

at first you weren't sure what he was asking permission for, but when you looked down to see his middle finger prodding at your entrance, his thumb slowly rubbing against your clit in a spiral, you understood.

"yeah." your words came out hoarse, like they had struggled to even form. he was so turned on, being able to have you on his fingers made his cock twitch in his pants. when he finally pushed his digit into you, and then another one, he grunted out a guttural fuck, responding to the ease in which they went in.

his eyes would not leave your cunt, entranced with the way his fingers slipped in and out of you with ease. and oh god, how he loved the sounds you were making against him.

“you’re such a good girl. taking my fingers so well..” he praised, reaching deeper and hitting the soft spot that made you see stars. you never knew beomgyu would be so good with his fingers. that he would be talking dirty like this, to you.

“fuck- who thought you to speak like that??” you gasped, moving your head into the crook of his neck to try and hide your flustered state.

“what’s wrong baby? is it turning you on?” he teased, his tone playful and yet so lustful, his fingers doing wonders and bringing you closer to the edge.

“s-shut up.” you bite back, biting his neck and licking it, a sharp moan coming out of him. such a sweet sound, he just sounded so pretty.

“cum for me.” he pleads, feeling you getting close and hearing your moans get higher. “please cum on my fingers.”

“fuck, gyu!” you whimper, the bundle of knots in your stomach snapping.

“fucking soak me.” he whispers against your hair, grasping it as he tries his best to control his breathing, almost not being able to contain how much this was affecting him too. luckily, this helped and muffled your moans a bit, helping so that the others don’t hear everything.

after letting yourselves catch your breaths (more you than him), he separated from you and looked down at his hand, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. you looked up at him to see what kept him quiet, noticing how hard he was staring at your slick coating him.

you were about to say something, but then he brought them up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them with a lazy grin. his cheekbones were bright red and his eyes were hazy, looking back at you when you just observed the obscene act.

“you didn’t need to do that.” you cleared your throat, looking away and closing your legs by reflex. but he wasn’t pleased with that, hands traveling to your thighs and taking the plush skin in them, separating your legs once again.

“i wanted to, and you taste so good y/n.” he winks, licking his lips after to get a last taste. as he does this, he reaches closer and places himself between your legs, climbing on top of you slowly. his body heat made yours increase, the closeness of you both making everything feel like it’s in slow motion.

when the mattress dips on the sides of your head, you feel beomgyu drop part of his weight on you, his crotch right on top of your naked one. he reaches down and finishes the job you started earlier by lowering his shorts enough for his dick to spring out. fuck, he was long and veiny, the tip of his shaft shining with precum.

“oh shit, i almost forgot!” he whisper shouts, turning back and chuckling softly. “i’m so fucking horny, i almost forgot to grab a condom.” he explains, reaching towards his bag and taking a small box of condoms out of the small pocket.

“you brought condoms?” you inquire, frowning and letting out a soft chuckle yourself.

“i um- i bought some earlier today..” he admits sheepishly, looking down as he takes one out and hides his embarrassment as much as possible. you smile in return and remember what’s about to happen, burning up too.

once he got it on, he returned between your legs, pressing his tip against your entrance, sliding it up and down while furrowing his brows and letting out tiny gasps.

“are you sure about doing this with me?” you ask out of insecurity, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious about whether or not he wanted this with you, or if it was just in the moment.

he instantly looked up at you in disbelief, his eyes shining under the moonlight. he rushed to go over to you, even closer, attacking your lips and starting to kiss you with as much need as he could let out. his tongue played with yours, your mouths colliding and fighting each other to get a little bit of air.

“you have no idea what i want” he growls against your mouth, his forehead sticking to yours as he aligns himself with you.

he searches for your eyes again, silently asking for consent, accepting it when you nod against him. not wasting any more time, he pushes himself in you, his shaft filling you up so deliciously when he bottoms out. you both sigh in contentment when he does so, you grabbing his back and him holding onto your waist. your bodies have never been closer, the heat from your bodies forming into one, into your warmth.

“does it feel okay?” he questions, rocking his hips gradually harder, his thrust showing themselves as more needy by the second.

‘okay’ was far from how good it felt to have him inside you. the nails of your fingers dug slightly into his shoulders as you hastily replied “don’t stop.”

“fuck, okay.” he grunts, now starting to thrust up into you, snapping his hips as he takes the back of your head into his right palm to steady you, holding you like a fragile flower. your fingernails then dig into his back, feeling his muscles move underneath your hands.

“why did i fight you again?” you manage to ask, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

“why? shit- cause' you're annoyed im too handsome?” he retorts jokingly but also out of spite, resenting you for ever keeping this from him.

“agh- now i remember” you add, whining the last bit when you feel him hitting you so deep with each thrust, another orgasm threatening to spill.

“i won’t last long with how good this feels..." he bites his lip, now moving his hands into your that we’re holding onto the sheets behind your head. he connects and tangles his fingers with yours, holding your hands against the mattress as he pounds into you.

“me too- please." you beg, grasping his hands in return, both of you holding onto each other desperately. you weren't gonna last long either, your high nearing with each moment of his. god, did beomgyu fuck often?! how was he so good?

between small whines and hushed breaths against your collar, beomgyu rushed his movements more, his thrust turning sloppy and even god- even more desperate. it was like he was aching for you, the need uncontrollable. and it was mutual, your legs closing up against his hips, caging him and pushing in further.

your sounds were both getting higher and higher, both of you incapable of keeping them in, this causing him to go forward and reattach your mouths. his tongue messily worked with yours as he muffled the sounds and kept on hitting your sweet spot.

just when you thought it couldn't get any better, your orgasm washed over you, making you moan into his mouth and him breathing it in. soon after, beomgyu landed his lasts thrusts and fucked your roughly through your high, his hitting him as well. he never stopped kissing you, trying his best to keep quiet and not get caught by the rest of the beach house.

then, beomgyu hesitantly untangles himself from you, pulling out slowly. your whole body feels fuzzy as he plops down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath. he throws the condom away in a trash can and then turns back to you.

"so- um.. did you- did you like it?" he questions, too shy to look straight at you and opting to play with his fingers instead. where was this shy attitude coming from? especially after he talked so boldly earlier.

"i did gyu. did you.. did you fuck often? i mean, that was really good i didn't know you'd-" before you can finish, he reaches over to you and places a peck on your cheek, showing a cheeky grin in his face, the pink hue on them almost unnoticed by you. "what was that for?" you giggle.

"just glad you liked it." he nonchalantly states, looking at you with a new glimmer in his eyes while he rests his head on his arm.

this was only the start of it, wasn't it?

© kiztae

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, insecurities, a bit of angst... Let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I know this one is a very short chapter, sorry! 🥺 The next one's gonna be longer, I promise! Nevertheless, I absolutely love it. 🥰

This sequel is based on @eleniblue 's ideas. 😊

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter One ❄️ Chapter Three ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Two - Sharing the Same Blood

You were seated on the little sofa; barely started to read your book in order to take a breather from the stressful day. It was always stressful, when Loki was away on royal duty and you had to rule Jotunheim alone.

Suddenly, impatient knocks drummed against the door to the royal chambers. You closed your book shut again, and put it away. There were only two persons in the world who knocked like this. "Come in!" You called out, smiling at what was to come.

"Mommy!" The twins both yelled in union storming through the door. They ran over to you and jumped on the sofa to join you, each boy cuddling against your side. Váli on the left, Áki on the right. "Hey boys!" You welcomed them with open arms, of course, having seen them lastly early this morning. They had been with their tutor the whole day, learning about Jotunheim, the nine realms, how to behave as princes and so on.

You wrapped an arm around your sons and placed a kiss on each forehead. "How were your lessons today? I heard Arvid took you to the city?" You felt them nod. "Mhm," said Áki, while Váli revealed more. "He wanted to show us the market." "Oh, great. I love the market. Did you like it?" At your question, both boys went quiet, nobody answering your question. Their excitement gone. You frowned, noticing immediately that you obviously asked the wrong question. Something was clearly off. "You didn't like it, huh?" Both shrugged their shoulders. "Now what kind of answer is that? What happened? Was Arvid too strict?" "No, mommy, the market was great, but..." Váli started, not finishing his sentence, causing his twin brother to jump in. "But when we were allowed to go play, there was a boy, who, uh, who asked us if we truly are twins..." You frowned even more. Now that was strange. "Why?" "He said because me and Váli look different and not like brothers."

After those words you heard a small, soft sob coming from your left, which wrenched your heart. "He said I-I l-look strange." You immediately shook your head. Turning softly to face Váli, you brushed your hand through the thick, blonde curls on top of his head. "No, sweetheart. You don't look strange. You look like me - and I couldn't be prouder." Matching eyes looked up into yours, still clouded by tears. "But why do Áki and I look different? We are brothers - or not?"

That was the first time in eight years you - or Loki were faced with this question. Sure, they looked different from the day they were born, but the boys never questioned it, because it was normal. Everyone in the palace treated them equally, so they seemingly didn't have the need to ask. Until now. Until somebody would 'judge' them. And you knew that day would come. It was just a matter of time - and well... Today was the day.

"Of course, you are brothers," you started, placing a kiss on both princes foreheads. Luckily Váli's tears had subsided by now. "You two look different because of your heritage." "Our h-h... henri-age?" Asked Áki, clearly confused. You giggled at the pronunciation of the word. Clearly a word they weren't familiar with - yet. It was time for them to learn about it, though. "Yes, love. Heritage. It's a word to describe where you're coming from. Where your home is, and what the traditions, culture and so on are." They were looking at you expectantly and confused, but also very excited and intrigued. "Okay, let me explain. You know this is home, right? Jotunheim." Both, Váli and Áki nodded. "But you also know there are other realms. Midgard, for example." And once again, a nod. "Right. So... Jotunheim - realm of the Frost Giants. Like you know, they are tall, have cerulean skin, beautiful ruby eyes and unique ridges on their skin. It's your daddy's home. He is a Jotun; born and raised here." "I look like daddy!" Áki giggled excitedly. You smiled, "You do." booping his nose. "But I don't look like your dad, right? Jotunheim isn't my heritage. I was born and raised in Asgard, like your uncle Thor. I'm an Æsir. Fair skin, mostly blonde hair and very beautiful." Váli frowned; the gears in his head turning. "Is that why I look like you, mommy?" You nodded at him; running once again your hand through his hair. "Yes, that's right. You two are the perfect, wonderful product of the love your father and I share. Nature just decided to make you look different and unique."

The twins looked up at you, stunned. "Wow..." Váli and Áki gasped in union, causing you to smile at their sugar-sweet reaction. They were so pure and innocent - and you enjoyed it while it lasted. "But... Uh, mommy?" "Yes, Áki?" "How did you meet daddy? Arvid said that the realms are far apart and not that easy to reach..." You smiled, immediately recalling the memories of yours and Loki's first encounter, back when you were younger. "Let's sit in front of the fire place; make ourselves comfortable. I'm going to tell you a story..." That was exactly what you did; telling them how you met the love of your life.

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki your eight-year-old twins. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, dirty and 'dangerous' details. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father."

[swifty-fox]

What Comes After

blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.

Fanfic/Sequel of

Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail

Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.

Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).

There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake? 

And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time. 

You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.

A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale. 

“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock. 

Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard. 

His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.

“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face. 

“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s  away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.

“Gale?” 

“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt. 

Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.

“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately. 

“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.” 

Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.

John needed to be Home. 

Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”

“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”

There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”

“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly. 

Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes. 

“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case. 

“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.” 

“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.” 

“Y’don’t have t-”

“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.” 

Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really. 

“I almost lost him, Curt.”

“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”

“Together,” he echoes. 

“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.

The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again. 

Nobody tells him how to handle that.

Gale falls asleep on the couch instead. 

-*~*-

When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality. 

Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.

Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.

Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing. 

Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.

He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.

When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots. 

Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.

“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale. 

Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison

That can’t be very good for Bucky.

Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.

When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.

“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.

This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.

Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite. 

Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief. 

“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got  here safe” 

“Does he know?” 

Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”

“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.” 

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.

“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good. 

-*~*-

When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked. 

He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?

“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching. 

Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives. 

Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.

“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring, 

Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.

[stesierra]

Writeblr ReIntro!

I'm posting a new intro because now that I've been on Writeblr a little while, I realize how much information I left out! Hi, I'm Stephanie, I live in the desert with my husband and baby and three cats, and I'm an ace, bipolar fantasy writer! When I was a kid, they said I had ADHD but then I got my Masters degree in biology, so they claim I can't have it. Online tests say I'm probably autistic.

I used to write sci fi twelve years ago but only low tech sci fi about weird aliens, which nobody likes. Now I write fantasy novels! Lots of fantasy novels! I am beginning to post them on my website so if you want to read them, please keep an eye on this post.

My books often but not always have some romance (either m/f or f/f because I prefer female protagonists.) Since I'm ace (and demiromantic), my interpretation of romance and attraction is not exactly what you'd expect from, say, a romance novel.

I am not going to tell you about all my books! I've written eighteen! Four of them are shelved forever! Here's some recent ones (written or revised since 2018) that I haven't given up on. Please ask me questions about them! I LOVE talking about my books! Also, if you want to be added to my taglist for writing samples let me know! Please also tell me if you're interested in alpha or beta reading and for which book! Mutuals only, please!

My books are beneath the cut! As I add WIP intros, I'll update this list with links.

Cast Out

YA fantasy! On her sixteenth birthday, Zisha is cast out of the Plenary Cities for the crime of being born deaf, like her grandmother before her. In the wastelands, she meets Thesil, a depressed and bitter young woman. Zisha wants nothing to do with her — until she sees Thesil's face in a vision. But before she can find out what the visions mean or reach her grandmother's holdings in the wastes, the plague returns to the Plenary Cities. If the disabled really caused the plague thirty years ago, and were cast out to stop the spread, how can it be back when all of them are outcast?

Status: Finished. Being serialized.

WIP intro here.

Now being serialized here. First five chapters up, one posted weekly.

The Bone Queen

This is my NA fantasy about the aftermath of freeing an undead queen and her skeleton army. They take over the kingdom, of course! The main character, Elise, is trapped in Bandrum palace by Aubrey, the ghost who tricked her into falling in love and freeing him (plus everyone else.) He's an animated skeleton now with plans to marry Elise and force her to carry his children. The bone queen has promised him she'll make it happen. Too bad no one cares what Elise wants. If only she had magic of her own...

Status: undergoing a rewrite after developmental edit. Was 109k before revisions. Not available for beta reading.

Draft number? Hahahaha. It has two complete sequels (The Spellbound King (106k) and The Matriarch's Daughter (96k)) I must also rewrite. This series is going to kill me but I love it. My mom, who loves everything I write, complained that it was weird. I'm very proud.

WIP intro here.

First chapter here.

School of Souls

This is my YA contemporary fantasy about a boarding school in the Bighorn Mountains! It's supposed to be a place parents can send "bad" teens to have their problems sorted out, but secretly the founder is using it to train the kids as sorcerers. Even more secretly, the school devours the souls of the students sent there, and the teenagers who graduate aren't the same as the ones who arrived... Warning: does include teenage addiction to sleeping pills and ghosts and and parental death. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet.

Status: Complete first draft. 83k. Available for alpha reading.

WIP intro here.

First chapter here.

The Many-faced Princess

This is YA fantasy with a historical vibe but set in a made up world. Vaguely inspired by ancient Phoenicia. It's about Princess Ameryi, who was blessed by the genderless trickster god, Akihel, to be able to change her face. If her father the king ever found out, he'd have to execute her, of course. Akihel is just plain evil. All the other gods say so. A daughter who's their champion? Impossible. An abomination. So Ameryi will just have to make sure her father never finds out. That was easier to do before the Asirtinsa Empire threatened to invade and her father sent her to secure an alliance with a neighboring king. She's supposed to marry him. Not steal his face and frame him for murder. But sometimes plans just don't work out.

This book was supposed to be about two lesbian princesses who frame the king for murder so they can elope, but both princesses decided to be ace and there was nothing I could do.

Status: Complete first draft. 83k. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet. Available for alpha reading.

First chapter here.

Map here.

Court Phoenix

This is my NA fantasy! Kerra is a blacksmith's apprentice. Not because she wants the job, but because her mother sold her future to him when she was still a toddler who crawled into live fires and giggled as the flames consumed her clothes. Now she's a woman, trapped by the expectations of her family and her village. Until one day, a phoenix crash-lands and dies in her arms. When it's reborn, it chooses Kerra as its keeper. Soon, her dreary future is swept away. A princess from Skyfire, the moving city, offers her a job in the royal court. How could Kerra refuse? Her family's claims that she'll die if she ever leaves the village are just manipulative lies. Aren't they?

Status: Complete third draft. 104k. Available for beta reading.

First chapter here.

The Revenant Trilogy

Adult fantasy. Solving a murder should bring good fortune, but all it brings Mindral Thideet is disaster. Her fame and peaceful life as head researcher at the city of knowledge end abruptly. In retaliation for her investigation into his crimes, Payar Cheref, the head of the powerful Cheref family, burns her beloved cousins alive and scars her face. The scar marks her as a revenant, a body possessed by a godkin, one of the gods' evil children. Her life as a researcher is over. All that's left is revenge.

No one believes her when she denies that godkins have any power over her. But godkins, real ones, are far closer than she realizes. Tearing down Payar Cheref could destroy Mindral, her family, and the nation itself.

-The Halfway Revenant (rewriting draft 4) 120k. Not available for beta reading.

-The Soul-Seer (draft 2) - 130k

-The Godkin's Gambit (draft 2) 121k

First chapter here.

As Immortality Fades

Adult fantasy. Five hundred years ago, one of the immortal and unpredictable Valteifur visited the kingdom of Kathild and granted the young queen Nelone immortality. But there was a catch. She'd live forever, youthful and strong, just so long as her subjects were happy. For centuries, she's met her part of the deal. But when the Valteifur returns to check on her progress, he grants her a new gift: the resurrection of every single person in Kathild who's died in the last two hundred years. Then he disappears.

There aren't enough houses for them all. There's not enough food. And winter is here.

Status: Complete first draft. 98k. Available for alpha reading.

Bi MC, enemies to lovers.

First chapter here.

Stitches and Memories

This one's adult fantasy. Antea's father ripped her mind apart, left her for dead, and vanished twelve years ago, and she's going to find out why. But when constables try to kill her and strange truth magic grows inside of her, hunting her father starts to look like suicide. Too bad going home isn't an option.

Status: I exchanged this with a critique partner and now it embarrasses me. Fourth draft. 122k. Available for beta reading.

Trigger warning: magic seizures

First chapter here.

WIP intro here.

Triangle Park

Contemporary Fantasy. I have no idea who it's for. An elf exiled to the middle of nowhere ends up stuck with an unexpected child. It's about reluctant parenting and protecting the needy. And elves and faeries slumming it in a mobile home.

Status: Complete first draft. 86k. Available for alpha reading.

First chapter here.

Mud-Child

Adult fantasy. Rebeka has always heard that a woman who goes through menopause loses her spark (the magic that lets her create children). If she's had children, it just makes the neighbors a little more fertile. But Rebeka never wanted a man, and she never wanted to raise a child. Not since her twin sister died and her beloved Suza left her for a man. The problem is, the spark leaves a childless woman differently, everyone says. A bitter hag? She'll curse her neighbors. A sweet dim biddie? She'll give her spark to inanimate objects and create a monster. Rebeka doesn't know which she is, but she believes it's a myth.

That was before the clay in her clay pit woke up and called her mother.

Status: Third draft. 109k. Needs a rewrite! Not available for beta reading.

First chapter here.

WIP intro here.

I GUESS I'M WRITING A NEW BOOK

The Giant's Gamble

First chapter here.

I started writing this on Friday the 13th, 2023. LET'S SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES TO WRITE WITH A BABY.

Short stories

The Unfamous Dead

VERY OLD CRAP

The Scribe and the Sphinx

Adult historical fantasy

Status: second draft. Shelved for good. 85k.

The Adrift series

The River's Drift. 100k.

The Waking Mountain. 106k.

Low-tech alien sci fi. Shelved for good.

My first book whose name I forget. About 50k. Exists only as a hard copy in my parents' house.

Taglist so far (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Tag list for everything

@harleyacoincidence

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@the-dragon-chronicler

@teacupsandstarlight

@vorskra

@wrenofthewords

@amostdelectablescribbler

@mysticstarlightduck

@phantommill

@gracewritesbooks

@aziz-reads

@owlsandwich

@symbioticsimplicity

@squarebracket-trick

@koala2all

@rmgrey-author

@atomatowriter

@cheerfulmelancholies

@delusionisaplace

@janec23

@writing-is-a-martial-art

@authortango

Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

For The Many-faced Princess

@deadlyessencewhispers

@serenanymph

The Halfway Revenant

@acertainmoshke

For Stitches and Memories

@space-writes

@acertainmoshke

The Bone Queen

@janec23

@holdmyteaplease

@digital-chance

@thecrookedwriterspath

@tea-and-mercury

@coven-archives

I love you all!

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Sequel to But When? And Why? And How?

About Dolores and Mirabel; and the aftermath of the things they heard. Set in the Miracles Plus AU.

Because an anon wanted to know how the family reacted.

Warning, very sensitive topics below.

~~~~~~

A Restless and Unanswered Night

Dolores walks Mirabel back to Casita.

It’s a silent affair. One of Mirabel’s weak arms draped around her shoulders as she guides the girl along the path.

The medication bounces roughly against Dolores’ leg in her pocket. Mirabel hadn’t taken it when the midwife offered it to her. It’s going to leave a bruise.

The first thing that happens when they get back is Mirabel whispering that she feels sick.

Dolores doesn’t want to deal with the faff of the shared bathroom, so allows Mirabel to use the one in her room.

Rubbing her back and holding her hair (and glasses) aside, while Mirabel heaves until there’s nothing left. Dolores doesn’t blame her.

When it finally ends, she just curls up on the bathmat, sobbing with fresh tears. Wailing in terror. Screaming in distress. And Dolores doesn’t blame her.

That’s when Dolores goes to find the family.

Or, well, Mirabel’s immediate family. (Dolores will tell the rest of the adults later).

“I have to talk to you,” Dolores informs, entering the kitchen, with Isabela and Luisa tagging along behind her.

Julieta and Agustín look just as confused as their daughters, but they seem more willing to stop what they are doing and hear her out.

They are sat around the dining table and Dolores taps her glass anxiously, searching for the words.

“Mirabel is pregnant.”

None of them connect the dots.

Luisa spits out her coffee. Julieta blinks. Agustín still looks confused.

Isabela scoffs, and then laughs, “What were the chances of immaculate conception in the family Madrigal?” As soon as the joke leaves her mouth, she realises.

“Someone…” Julieta can’t bring herself to finish the question. Dolores nods.

Luisa’s mug shatters in her hand.

“Who?” Agustín asks.

“We… we don’t know.” Dolores answers. “I heard the heartbeat ages ago, but I didn’t want to say anything at first. I confronted her about it and she had no idea. I took her to a midwife… she’s almost seven months along. She doesn’t know how or when it happened.”

“Drugged.” Isabela piped up. “It’s the only way she wouldn’t have known.”

Nobody said anything.

“Where is she?” Julieta inquires, shakily.

“My room. Bathroom.”

Julieta is already out of her chair, almost knocking the thing onto the floor in her haste to get to her baby.

Another chair scratches back against the tiled floor.

“I’m going out. To fucking kill every fucking bastard with a cock in town,” Luisa seethes.

“Absolutely not. That’s completely insane, Luisa.” Dolores snapped.

Luisa is already gone though.

While Dolores tries to manage Luisa, chasing after her cousin, who wandered off in search of the cooking knives, Agustín breaks down crying at the table.

Isabela gets up and hugs him, not knowing what else to do.

They stay like that for an hour.

~~~~~~

Having since left Dolores’ room, they were now in Mirabel’s own.

As Mirabel had washed and changed, Julieta made herself useful in cleaning Dolores’ bathroom. It wasn’t necessary, it was just something to do.

Mirabel’s skin, neck downwards, was a-blazing red and sensitive from where she’d clearly very aggressively scrubbed herself clean. Julieta decided to forgo the lecture for now, she’d be too stubborn to listen anyways.

Mirabel now lay in bed, much less hysterical, but by no means calm. While Julieta sat beside her.

They can’t do anything. There’s no way of tracking down a culprit. It’s too late now.

All they can do is prepare in the remaining months for the baby.

“When you were born,” Julieta says, brushing her fingers through Mirabel’s curls. “We didn’t think you had survived. Your Tío Félix had to pinch you to get some noise. You were always so quiet. Every time you slept, I would have a heart attack because I thought something bad had happened. You were so little; I always wanted to cuddle you. You didn’t care for my smothering.”

Mirabel didn’t say anything.

“Luisa was completely obsessed with you. She use to refer to you as her baby and would hit us for trying to separate you two.” She chuckled slightly then. “Not much has changed. She was definitely your favourite too. You knew what you meant when you said ‘purple’ - the colour, but it was also Luisa. My clever, little girl.”

A pause.

She set her hand against Mirabel’s stomach.

“This is your baby, Mirabel. Not anyone else’s. And you are going to love them, just as much as I loved you and your sisters.”

Another pause.

“¿Mirabel? ¿Qué estás pensando, mi amor?”

Mirabel looked up then.

“No quiero este parásito. No quiero esta sanguijuela. Quiero recuperar mi cuerpo.” She tightened her grip on her pillow. “Quiero morir.”

~~~~~~

English translation:

“Mirabel? What are you thinking, my love?”

Mirabel looked up then.

“I don't want this parasite. I don't want this leech. I want my body back.” She tightened her grip on her pillow. “I want to die.”

[five-rivers]

Waking the Woods

AO3

Sequel to Rumors of the Woods of the Kingdom of Amity.

For @summerssixecho and @modordracena

Danny was sorting through the pantry, hoping to get all the misplaced poisons put back in the red cabinet before his parents came home the day after next.  More inedible substances would inevitably be stored in the pantry once they came back, but Danny would do just about anything to avoid eating another bezoar for just a little bit longer.  

Also, getting poisoned sucked, but that went without saying.  

His sister, Jazz, was gone, too, but that wasn’t unusual.  She’d gotten an invitation to study at the College of Elmerton, and of course she had to go, even if it was in another country.  

Which meant that he was the only one home when he heard the knock.  It also meant that he was so startled by it that he propelled his head into the underside of one of the pantry shelves at speed.

No one knocked on their door.  Ever.  Even the paying customers were more of the ‘let ourselves in’ type.  

Danny staggered out of the pantry, head spinning slightly.  Ow.  

The knock came again, this time taking on a decidedly frantic character.  Danny shook himself, and patted his head down.  No blood.  Great!  He walked to the door, half convinced that he’d find someone who was both out of town and very lost, but determined to be polite.  Show people it was possible for a Fenton to have manners!  Not their fault he smacked his head into the shelf.  

He slid open the door and immediately got punched in the face.  

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry– Where did the door go?”

“It slides,” explained Danny, clutching his face.  “Sideways.  Ow.”

“I’m really sorry, I was just knocking.  I didn’t realize–”

“I know, I know.”  Probably, the whole ‘nobody knocks’ thing was the only thing keeping this from happening much more often.  He peeled his hands away from his face and took in his visitor as well as he could, given his temporarily blurry vision.  

Dark skin, yellow cloak, vividly red hat that had to be violating at least a dozen sumptuary laws…  There was only one person Danny had ever met that dressed like that.

“Tucker?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Tucker, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Surprise?”

“In more ways than one.”  Danny touched his face tenderly.  “Ow.”

“I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Danny, deciding not to mention that he’d done much worse to himself not five minutes ago.  “Come on in.  What are you doing here, anyway?  I haven’t seen you since, uh…”  When had it been, anyway?

“Since I got apprenticed, I know.”

“Yeah!”  Tucker hadn’t been happy about it, but as his parents had said, felting was good, steady work.  People always needed cloth.  “Don’t tell me you’ve already finished your apprenticeship.”

“Uh, no.  It is sort of about that, though.”

Danny paused, halfway to the living room.  “You’re not running away, are you?”  Tucker had never seen the type, but it had been years.  

“No,” said Tucker.  “But, uh.  It’s sort of complicated.  It’ll take a little bit to explain.”

“Alright,” said Danny, continuing into the room until he could perch on the edge of his mother’s rocker.  “Go ahead.”

“Right.  So.  Every ten years or so, the weavers’ and felters’ guilds get together to negotiate with the shepherds about prices.  Tanner’s guild, too, sometimes, but not this year.  This year, my master got chosen to go.  Which meant I was at loose ends."

"So you came to visit me?" asked Danny, touched. 

"Um.  No.  Maybe I would've, but at the same time, the pages at the castle all came down with carbuncle pox–"

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that."

"So, the pagemaster asked the guilds to send apprentices to fill in for them."

"And you were sent because you were at loose ends."

"Right."

They stared silently at each other.  Just when Danny was about to prompt Tucker to continue, because that had explained nothing, the other boy exploded.  

"I was sent to give a message to the princess and she had a book out about Rangers, like the one your mom always had, and I asked her why she was looking up Rangers and she said it was for a personal project and she asked me why I could read - because apparently royalty think guild apprentices can’t read, go figure, she sounded impressed, though - and I told her that I’d always wanted to join the monastery, but money, and then, you know, she was surprised I could read, I wanted to say something impressive, not be written off, and I said I knew a Ranger family, and then she said that if I could get a Ranger to help with her project, she’d pay off my apprenticeship and recommend me to the head monk, and I said I could definitely, one hundred percent do that and you’d be happy to help.  So, uh.  Yeah.  Yeah, then I came here.  What’ve you been up to?”

Danny's jaw had dropped at some point during Tucker’s ‘explanation,’ but he gathered himself.  "The attic, I guess.  Tucker…  I'm not a Ranger."

"But your parents were."

"Not… not really."  Jazz, at least, had thought they were doing the whole Ranger thing to embarrass her.  The Fentons were alchemists by trade, if not temperament.  Rangers didn't really exist any more.

"Grandparents?"

Danny shrugged.

"Come on, Danny, you're literally my only hope."

"Why do you even want to join a monastery anyway?"

"Because that's where all the books are."

Danny rubbed his head, winced, and thought about it some more.  "This project isn't some creepy rich person thing, is it?"

"What?  No.  The princess is our age!"

"So?  I'm self‐aware enough to realize that I can be creepy about…" he trailed off, blushing furiously.  "Things."

"She's a girl!"

Danny blinked.  “So?”

Tucker stared at him.  He stared at Tucker.  

“She legitimately needs a Ranger.”

“What for?  It isn’t like there’s any magic in the woods anymore.  They’ve been mapped.”

“Apparently not,” said Tucker.  “Look, I know you haven’t seen me in a long time, and we’re not close friends anymore, but you have to at least be curious.  And you’d get to meet the princess.”

Danny sighed.  “Alright, alright.  I am curious.”  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked all those questions.  “Where am I supposed to go and when am I supposed to be there?”

“The princess wants us to meet her at the castle at noon.”

“Tucker,” said Danny.  

“Yes?”

“You want me to go to the castle.  At noon.  Today.  Looking like I just got beaten up.  And convince the princess, who has apparently done a lot of research, that I’m, what, an apprentice Ranger?  Is that even a thing?”

“An experienced Ranger.  I, uh, might have played you up a bit.”

“Tucker,” said Danny.  “You were wrong.”

Tucker hunched his shoulders.  “About?”

“Us not being close friends anymore.  You see, if we weren’t, I would be kicking you out right about now.”

“Noted.”

.

Danny did not run around like his hair was on fire for the next hour, although at one point he came perilously close to actually setting his hair on fire.  

An hour was not long enough to prepare for this.  For that matter, days wouldn’t be long enough to prepare for this.  He was an apprentice alchemist, barely, not a monster-hunter, not a warrior of any stripe, not a mage, not even a historian.  

But on the off chance that there was magic… or a creature or some sort…

He packed his travel kit with a few randomly chosen vials of caustics and poisons, making sure they were carefully separated from the vials and flasks carrying more benign brews.  Glues, solvents, and cleaners went in another compartment, salves and topicals in yet another, and things you were actually supposed to eat or drink in a fourth.  

He felt woefully underprepared.  

Tucker was really lucky he didn’t have any other friends, darn it.  

His eyes strayed back to the lockbox in the back of the storeroom.  He shouldn’t…  But odds were, the princess was delusional or just getting scammed.  He could put everything back before his parents got home.  And if the princess had found something magical, wouldn’t it be better to have something that could affect it?  Even if it was old and super questionable?

With a skill born from his parents always losing their keys, Danny picked the lock on the lockbox.  Within were two vials.  One was pale green, with a dark, glittery red mixture inside.  The other was coated with crackling, peeling red and contained a liquid that glowed green through the cracks.  The reason for these color choices was, Danny assumed, because one of his ancestors was a sadist of some variety.  

He checked the labels to make sure they were what he remembered.  Tincture of Sanguiflora magicidium in the green vial and mana pondalorum physick in the red vial.  He triple checked his memory of their effects against the booklet in the lockbox.  Only then did he put them in their own, separate, compartments.  

He was ready to go, and absolutely sure he was going to regret this in at least some way.  

Welp!  At least it’d be interesting.  

.

Danny had never actually been to the castle before.  His parents were… Well, even if they were the absolute best alchemists in the kingdom (a disputed title) they weren’t exactly welcome around anyone who might not want their clothes ruined.  Or their houses.  Or their health.  Even beyond the Ranger thing, they were pretty eccentric.  

The castle was impressive, he supposed.  But it was just a large building.  He wouldn’t want to be a guy attacking it, he was sure.  But looking at it from the outside got old, fast.

“So,” he said to Tucker, “noon, huh?”

“You know that’s just an estimate.  Not everyone has clocks.”

“I am absolutely convinced that the royal family has at least one clock.”

“Yeah, but do they know that you have a clock?  That’s the question.  And is your clock even right?”

Danny shrugged.  

One of the guards whistled at them, and for the first time, Danny saw his face.  

“Huh,” he said, “is that Dash?”

“Might be,” said Tucker.  

“You!  Boy!” snapped Dash, who was only a little older than they were.  “Are you Tucker Foley?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And the-” Dash sneered, “-Ranger?”

“It’s not my day job.”  Or any kind of job.  Actually, was he getting paid for this?  As much as he’d like to live off air and pleasant thoughts, he did have other needs.  At this point, though, it seemed too late to ask.  

“You’re expected.  Follow me.”

Wow.  Danny didn’t know that Dash knew any words as long as ‘expected.’  Shocking.  Maybe being around all these high-class people was starting to rub off on him.  

Not far inside the gates was a…  Alright, Danny didn’t know what was going on, but it had the energy of people preparing to go somewhere, so.  Yeah.

“Your majesty, I’ve brought the felter boy and his… friend.”

“I’m sure they have names,” said a girl who was wearing a surprisingly practical riding dress, “and I know you know at least Tucker’s.”  She turned slightly towards Danny.  “And you are?”

“This is, uh, Danny, Princess Samantha,” said Tucker, bobbing bow and elbowing Danny in the side until he got a clue and did the same.  

“I’ve told you, you can call me Sam.”

“R-right.  Sam.”

Everyone in the vicinity except the princess shot them a glare so venomous Danny was tempted to get out a bezoar (ick).  The princess didn’t notice.  She was too busy examining Danny.  He straightened under her sweeping gaze.

“You don’t look like a Ranger.”

“My parents have more experience.”  Or so they claimed, anyway.  “There’s not a lot of call for Rangers these days.”

“Well, you’re the first one to come to me with even a lick of authenticity, so I suppose you’ll do,” she said, finally.   “The Fenton line, correct?  Branch of House Nightingale?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “I suppose?”  He’d heard some things like that, but if he had any Nightingale ancestors, they were buried beneath far more common people.  

“I think you might actually be the last survivors of that house.  Do either of you ride?”

Danny and Tucker shook their heads.  

“More’s the pity, although we won’t be moving at much more than a walk with all the people who insist on coming with us despite their lack of interest in our nation’s heritage.”  She sniffed.  “You will be coming of course, Tucker?”

“‘Course he will,” said Danny, looping an arm around his shoulder.  “We used to be a team when we were kids.”

“Oh?  Goodness, that almost makes me reluctant to send you off to a monastery.  There are so few people with any Ranger training left.”

She turned away, back to her preparations, and Tucker threw Danny’s arm off and glared at him.  Danny grinned lazily back.  Served him right.  Danny could spread the misery around a little bit.  

.

It was true that the princess’s retinue did not move at a rate faster than a walk.  This was, however, at least partially because the princess kept stopping to give alms on her way out of the city.  It seemed the city’s population of beggars had learned her preferred routes.  

“Hey,” said Danny, “this was a one day sort of thing, right?  It’s okay that I didn’t pack stuff for overnight?”

“No, it should be fine, I think,” said Tucker.  “But there’s like a hundred people here.  Someone will have spare stuff.  Besides, if it goes much longer than that, we can just leave.”

Danny nodded.  “That’s true.”

.

When they finally reached the forest, they walked for another hour and a half, this time stopping so that the princess and her ladies could coo at the half-feral forest cats that sometimes watched their progress.

Alright, Danny cooed at them, too, and since he and Tucker were on foot, they had a much better chance of petting them, something he felt just a little smug about.

The first hour of that was on a well maintained road, the last was on a path that looked to be newly cut through tangled underbrush and fallen trees.  Much to the displeasure of the princess’s guards, she decided to dismount and walk next to Danny and Tucker for this part of the journey.  She called it ‘bracing.’

“We only found this because of the late storm during the drought last year,” she said.  “Father sent the fire watch to make sure there hadn’t been any bad lightning strikes close to the city, and one of them found it.  I spent months convincing Father to let me investigate.  I’m hoping that soon it will be something I can share with everyone.”

Danny cleared his throat.  “With this all being so last minute, Tucker didn’t actually get a chance to tell me what ‘it’ was.  Um, Princess Samantha.”  He had no idea how often you were supposed to address royalty by title.  It didn’t come up all that often in his life.  

Samantha’s smile faltered, slightly.  “It’s Sam.  And we’re not sure, actually.  That’s one of the reasons we wanted a Ranger.  I thought that you might recognize it from your training.”

“I don’t know how likely that is,” cautioned Danny.  

Samantha shrugged.  “It is only one of the reasons.  But you don’t have to be pessimistic.  I’m well aware that this endeavor might come to nothing.  It is one thing to hope to reclaim a country’s magical heritage.  It is another thing entirely to actually do it.”

“So… you don’t believe magic is getting used up?”

“I’m not sure.  I think it might have been…  But I have hope that magic is something that can be restored, renewed, and used more wisely.  Other places seem to have managed that, at least a little.  It would be a shame to give up on it entirely, wouldn’t it?  It was a wondrous thing.”

“Sure,” said Danny, “but there were also the monsters.  That’s what the Rangers were for, a lot of the time.”

“Even so.”  She fell silent for a while.  “Have you ever heard of the trap-rabbit?”

“No.  Tuck?”

Tucker shook his head.  

“They used to be quite common here, is my understanding.  The walls of my nursery are painted with them.  They don’t exist anymore.  It’s a sad thing, I think, for that to happen.  I would not wish it to happen even to monsters.”

Tucker made a face.  The princess saw it.  

“I have read the stories,” she said.  “In them, we strike first as often as they.”

“But those are stories,” protested Tucker.  

The princess shrugged.  “As is any history you did not witness personally.  But even we can’t return things to what they were, don’t you think learning what was is still a worthy goal?”

“It sounds like one, anyway,” said Danny.  “I’ve never really thought about it.”

They emerged into a clearing around a large pond.  On the other side of the pond was a huge tree with great, drooping branches.  The branches swayed in the wind, momentarily revealing something made of stone.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” asked the princess, stepping onto a path that led around the side of the pond.  It was made of uneven pavers and looked ancient.  

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “I didn’t know trees like that got that tall.”

“Neither did I,” muttered Tucker.  “What’s under there, though.”

“You’ll have to see,” said Samantha- Sam, skipping down the path.  

Danny started after her, and immediately tripped.  He just barely caught himself before face planting and possibly having a very expensive and dangerous accident with his travel kit.

He maybe wasn’t as recovered from his head injuries as he’d thought.  And, yes, he was counting Tucker’s accidental punch.  

It was fine.  

The stone beneath the tree was part of a structure, obviously made by intelligent hands and at least as old as the paved path.  There didn’t seem to be any way into the small building, just some words carved into the side.

“Do you recognize it?”

Danny shook his head.  “But there’s always been lots of different kinds of ruins.”  He walked around the structure, going slowly.  “Reminds me a little of shrines in old temples.  Those are open-sided, though.”

“I know,” said Sam.  “The tree doesn’t mean anything to you, either?”

“Should it?”

Sam shrugged.  Away from the shadow of the tree, her retinue was setting up camp.  They seemed more than happy to let the three of them investigate the maybe-shrine on their own.  Well.  Mostly.  A couple very formidable looking ladies were watching them like hawks, and a bald man had taken out a stool and a thick, dusty book to read in the shade.  

“I don’t think so…  It’s kind of similar to that one story, though, isn’t it?  The one about the tree of life and a sacred pool.”

“It is.  The water seems to be just water, though, and the fruit is just fruit.”  

“Might be where the story came from, though.”

“Maybe,” agreed Sam.  “What do you think of the writing?”

Gods, that was not his area of expertise.  Still, he stepped closer.  “Hm,” he said.  “It’s very writing-like.”

Sam looked at him, concern on her face.  “You can read, yes?”

“What?  Yeah.  Just give me a second.  This isn’t regular writing.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’ve gotten someone else to translate this already, right?”

“My tutor, William Lancer."  She gestured at the bald man, who briefly glanced up from his book.  "It’s good to have a second opinion.”

Danny nodded and called up his admittedly meager knowledge of this sort of thing.  He knew some, because a lot of alchemical texts were written in the old language, but he wasn’t exactly spending his days practicing it.  

“Um,” he said, intelligently.  He was starting to see what Tucker meant about wanting to impress her.  “The first binding, valued more than coin, valued more than land, but spent on it nonetheless, by those who do not own it.  When it is gone, dust is left.  Heart of the land, spend yours before your people.  We shall… wake?”  Danny paused.  “Is that ‘wake?’”

“‘Open,’” said Sam.  “We think answering the riddle might open up the… shrine, for lack of a better word.”

“Mm,” said Danny, who had usually seen it in the context of sleeping medicines.  “Is it the same on all sides?” 

“As far as we can tell.”

“Dust is, um.  Huh.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing when he jostled his head.  “I think this dust might be the same dust as grave dust.  Does that help?”

“This isn’t one of those animal sacrifice things, is it?” asked Tucker.  “Or, uh, human sacrifice?”

“We thought of that,” said Sam.  

Tucker moved away from her.  

“But, ah.  Blood magic tends to be… unpleasant.  We thought we’d avoid that.”

“Might still be blood magic,” said Danny.  “I mean, blood fits, doesn’t it?  Blood relations are the first tie you have, it’s more valuable than money or land, but people still fight wars for those things, they just try to spill other people’s blood.  When it’s gone, you’re left with grave dust.”

“I would prefer not to get sacrificed,” said Tucker.  “If it’s all the same to you, your highness.”

“Tucker, if I was that desperate to get in, I’d just hire people to pull it down, or get a battering ram.  I’m not going to sacrifice anyone.  But… heart of the land?  We thought perhaps wood doves, because of the crest…”

Danny shrugged.  “At that point, it might as well be talking about your blood.”

“Mine?” asked Sam, scandalized but intrigued.

“Sure.  You’re popular, right?  Or at least, you’re royalty.  That’s sort of like being the heart of a country.”

“Couldn't it just be talking about the word, too?" asked Tucker, looking faintly ill.  "Couldn't it be that you just have to say the word blood?"

"I don't know, we've said blood a lot just now."

"But not in the old language," pointed out Sam.  

"Sure," said Danny.  "Sang."

Nothing happened.  He shrugged.  

"Maybe you need to say it," Tucker said to Sam.  

"Sang." 

Still nothing.

"Bleeding it is, then."  Sam pulled an unreasonably large knife from the vicinity of her corset. 

Tucker jumped away, and even Danny took two hurried steps back, ready to throw himself behind the corner of the building.  The ‘supervising’ adults were unalarmed.  

But the princess just pressed the blade to her thumb and held it out to the structure.  

Nothing happened.  

“Maybe you need to bleed on it?” suggested Danny.  

“You don’t want to get an infection, your highness,” said William Lancer, not looking up from his book.

“I know,” said Sam.  She pressed her thumb against the wall, just under the carved riddle.  

For a long moment… nothing happened.  

But then the walls shuddered and began to drop into the ground, leaving only the pillars at the corners to support the roof.  

“Yes!”  Sam pumped her fist and ran in as soon as the walls got low enough.  

This, finally, stirred the watchers to action. 

Danny and Tucker exchanged a glance.  It'd be bad if the princess were cursed, wouldn't it?

Danny hopped over the wall next.  The interior was… Not much of one.  He didn't know what he expected of a ten foot by ten foot building with no walls.  

"Look," said Sam, pointing up.  

"Oh, wow," said Danny, all awareness of what the princess’s minders were doing falling away from him.  The pillars might not be much to look at, but the ceiling…  Danny had just enough experience at art to understand what had gone into carving and painting it.  It was the night sky, as viewed from below trees.  Each leaf and needle was picked out in exquisite detail, perspective perfect.  And the stars… as an alchemist, even an apprentice one, Danny had to know when the stars were right.  These stars were accurate.  They were even accurate to this time of year.  Even the moon was right, its face a careful reproduction of what was really there.

“The floor, too!” said Sam, bringing Danny’s attention to the stone tiles and the small flowers and leaves painted on them as well as… were those map lines?  Danny wasn’t sure.  “This is marvelous.  Do you suppose the pillars are meant to resemble tree trunks?  I didn’t see it before, but now-!  Even if this was it, it’s worth it!”

“It is pretty,” said Tucker, finally following them in.  “Wonder what it was for.”

“It hardly even matters.  That is, it matters, of course, but look at it!”

They looked.  

And while they were looking, the walls shot back up, leaving them in pitch blackness.  

“Ah,” said Danny.  “Somehow, I feel like we should have expected this.”

“Bleed on the walls again!” suggested Tucker in a not at all panicked voice.

There was some shuffling as everyone ran into one another.  

“It’s not working,” said Sam.  

“Well,” said Danny, “at least there’s still the battering ram option?”

“That only works if there’s nothing inside the thing you care about breaking.  Do you– No, I suppose you wouldn’t.  What was the point of this, anyway?  To trap princes and princesses?”

Danny shrugged, even though no one could see him.  

“I don’t suppose any of you have flint or matches?” asked Sam.  “Candles?”

“Some,” admitted Danny.  “But you don’t really want to light a fire in a closed space like this.  Oh!  Wait!  I do have something.”  He opened the top of his travel kit.  The glowing mana pondalorum physick was immediately visible.  The red coating of the vial blocked most of the green light, but in the otherwise absolute darkness, it seemed to burn.  

“What is that?”

“Mana,” said Danny.  “Or water with mana in it.  Some of the old books aren’t super clear.  My parents saved it from way back.”

“Did they save anything else?” asked Sam, her eyes wide.  She reached for it.  

Danny pulled it back, towards his chest.  He had not anticipated curious royalty as a threat to his ‘not getting in trouble with my parents’ plan, but in retrospect he could see that was as obvious a risk as getting stuck in a weird possibly magical ruin.  

“Yeah,” he said, “there’s also the magicidium mix.  It’s, um, emergency magic antidote.  Magic killer.  So, if one of us gets cursed, you want to grab the green vial with the red stuff in it.”

“And, what, drink it?” asked Tucker.  

“Or dump it on them.  Drinking it is better, but, you know, curses…”

“Right,” said Tucker, nodding, “I absolutely know curses.”

Danny had doubts.  But he also had better things to do, like examining the inside of the walls.  He raised the vial, glancing up as the green light was reflected off the painted stars.  For a moment, he thought he might have caught a glimpse of something else, then the moment was gone.  

“Hey, why don’t we just dump the magic killing stuff on the walls or something?” asked Tucker.  

“Because it’s probably magic that makes them move,” said Sam.  “Not magic that keeps them in place.”

The walls had writing on them.  He turned to the nearest one, and brought the vial closer.  “That’s different from the outside, I think?”

“What does it say?” asked Sam.  

“Give me a minute,” said Danny.  “It’s really hard to see.”  He squinted at the writing.  “This is a lot longer,” he said with some dismay.

“You can read it, though, can’t you?”

“Just… don’t rush me.”  Danny chewed his lip, then read slowly.  “Beat true, oh heart, with wisdom and wit, for without these passion lies silent.  Um…  Those who would be woken, must be named.  Those who would be named, must be woken…  No.  Those who are named will be woken.  Speak, therefore, the names of…”

“What names?  Ours?  Mine?”

“Give me a second.  The names of… Okay, I’m not sure if this is just a poetic way to say sleep or not.  The names of those beneath the stars, for you must know them whether it is day or night.  Say them, wake them, walk into the light.”

“You think beneath the stars means sleep?  Those are completely different!”

“And beating around the bush is completely different from avoiding a topic,” said Sam.  “But they mean the same thing.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “The stuff I learned from is big on metaphor, but it was, you know, formal.”

“We’re going to die,” said Tucker.  

“We’re not going to die.  Let’s start with our names.  I’m Sam.”

“Danny.”

“Tucker.”  Tucker looked around, nervous.  “Do you think it wants our full names?”

“Yeah…” said Danny, also apprehensive.  “Magic usually does.” Not that he really knew, but that was the way it was in stories.  So.  “Daniel Vladimir Fenton.”

“Oh, gods, that’s your middle name?”

“Shut up.  I know yours is Meredith.”

Sam rolled her eyes with her entire body.  “Princess Samantha Annamarie Laurel Caspera Manson of Amity, Duchess of Beau.  Your turn.”

“Tucker,” he sighed, “Meredith Foley.”

“Alright,” said Danny, “maybe it means something else when it says all.”  

“Like what?  We’re the only ones here.”

Sam had started picking at her lip.  “We are,” she agreed.  “But…  The floor, it was a map, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “I really hope you’re good at geography.  I’m not.”

“You’re a Ranger.”

“That has nothing to do with geography.”

Sam turned, surveying the room.  “What if it’s not the map, but the trees?”

“The… sculptures?”

“They’re under the stars, too aren’t they?”

.

The next half an hour or so was spent desperately trying to name… everything.  Danny and Tucker just recited every tree name and plant name they could remember - and some animal names just in case - while Sam was a bit more methodical.  Danny and Tucker’s frenzy was only occasionally interrupted by Sam saying something like Elmerton, Casper, Axion, Floode or Eerie.  

As a result, they had no idea who it was that finally triggered the walls to slide down again.  Danny, for one, didn’t really care.  He threw himself out as soon as he was able, and the others seemed to have the same opinion.  

He knelt on the grass and tilted his head up to catch the sparse sunlight filtering through the branches above him.  In doing so, he saw that everyone who had been there before was gone.  

“We weren’t gone long enough for everyone to have left, right?” asked Danny.  

“No,” said Sam, “not at all.”  She climbed to her feet and walked past him, examining the ground.  “It’s like they were never here at all…”

Tucker gasped and pointed up.  “Look at the tree!”

Fruit hung from its branches, heavy, round, and red.  

“What is that?” asked Danny.  

“You don’t know?”

“No.  I’ve never seen a tree like that.”

The walls of the small building grated as they started rising again.  Danny, Sam, and Tucker turned back to it, slowly.  Dread bubbled up in Danny’s stomach, creeping along his spine.

“Maybe we should just go back to the city,” said Danny.  

Sam shook her head.  “There’s no guarantee the city will even be there.”

“There’s no guarantee it won’t be.”

“And there’s no guarantee that stupid thing won’t disappear one of us if we look at it funny,” argued Tucker.  “Let’s cut our losses.”

“There must be a reason for this,” insisted Sam, crossing her arms.  “They wouldn’t just make all this happen for no reason.”

Danny eyed her suspiciously.  “There’s something else, isn’t there?  Something you know about this.”

Sam tapped her foot.  “Maybe,” she allowed.  “Nothing solid, mind you, but one Ranger journal I found suggested that this place was used by the old kings to petition the woods, and that they needed both royalty and Ranger to do it.  That’s… one of the reasons I wanted someone like you to come.”

“Petition it for what?”

“I don’t know.  It didn’t say.  It was one sentence in thousands.  It could have been anything.  Good harvests, few wolves, killing the Pariah King, whatever.  It might not have even been talking about here at all.  I just thought…  If there was anything left…”

“Clearly,” said Tucker, “there was something left.”

“Right,” said Sam.  “But it didn’t say anything about making people disappear.”

“It didn’t say anything about anything, is what it sounds like,” said Tucker.  

“Yes, but…”  She trailed off.  “Don’t you think it’s more likely that we were moved?  Considering.”  She gestured at the peaceful and undisturbed clearing.  “Even the path we came in on is gone.”

Danny hadn’t noticed that, but it was true.  The border of the clearing was entirely overgrown, with no sign that people had broken through the shrubs and small trees there.

“I think,” she said, “that to get back, we have to keep going.”  She looked between the two of them, then at the building, squaring her shoulders.  “I am sorry I brought you into this, but it’s done.  Let’s at least work together to get out of it.”

There wasn’t much choice, was there?  “Alright,” said Danny.  “Let’s go.”

The words on the walls were, predictably, different than they had been before.  Danny was getting used to this already, somehow.  “This is the wisdom of the land, that when the land drinks, the people shall drink, and when the people drink, so shall the land drink, and that when the land is fed, so shall the people be fed, and when the people are fed, so shall the land be fed.  For water to be received, it must be given.  Should salt be given, then salt shall be received.  The land that is fed on blood shall also bleed.  The seed that is planted will grow.  That which wakes will be woken.  The…”  Danny paused. 

“And you were doing so well, too.”

“Listen.”

“Sorry, it’s only… at least the last one had a clear instruction.  This sounds like some kind of philosophical statement.  Not that there’s anything wrong with those.”

“I’m not done yet,” said Danny, plaintively.  “I haven’t seen this word before.  I think it’s a person?  And they’re getting whatever they’re doing done to them?  It goes on like that for a while longer.”  He ran his finger down the line.  And then it says, because the people and the land are one, only about a dozen times.”

“Why would it say it a dozen times?” asked Tucker.  

“It uses a different word for land each time.”

Sam frowned at him.  He wasn’t looking at her, but he could feel it.  “What?”

“Like, mostly it uses the word for land that has trees on it, but–”

“You mean a forest?  Or wood?”

“No, there’s a different word for a forest.  Actually, there’s specifically a word for land that has a forest on it, as opposed to just trees.”  Which Danny only knew because a lot of alchemical potions had dirt as an ingredient.  Incredibly specific dirt.  “And there’s a different word for soil.  Or for unoccupied land.  It’s… the old language is weird.”  There was a reason it wasn’t spoken anymore.  

“And that’s it?”

“No, there’s one more line.  Show your intentions: to eat, and to be eaten.  No, wait, that doesn’t make sense.  That must be feed.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” said Tucker.  

“At least it’s an instruction.”

“Maybe we’re supposed to eat the fruit.  I might do that anyway, actually,” said Danny.  “What?  I’m hungry.  I didn’t eat anything at midday.”

“But what if you eat it, and then it eats you?”

“At least I won’t be hungry?”

“I think the bigger problem here is what if it’s poisonous,” said Sam.  

“Is that really the bigger problem?  Really?”  He gestured around himself.  “I’m going to eat one of those fruits and, uh.  Water the tree.”

“You can say you’re going to pee on it,” said Sam.  “I have bodily functions, too.”

“Whatever.  If that doesn’t work, we can try something else.”

Sam squinted at him.  He got the impression it wasn’t an expression she wore often, but it suited her face very well.  “You know, I expected a Ranger to know more about all of this.”

Tucker made flailing motions behind her.  

“That’s–  In the spirit of honesty, no one in my family has done real Ranger-ing since my grandfather disappeared when my mom was a little girl.”

“The woods do disappear people, oh my gods–”

“My parents just like camping and pretending there are still monsters, and Tucker said you needed someone, so…”

Sam’s whole face twitched.  “I see.  I suppose we can’t say we aren’t similar, then, with respect to false pretenses.  But… let’s not do that anymore.  For the sake of not dying.”  She paused.  “Is the red–”

“It’s really anti-magic.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped.  “At least there’s that.  If the fruit starts turning you into, I don’t know…”

“A wolf,” suggested Tucker.  

“Why not?  A wolf, I’ll make sure to pour it down your throat.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “And if it’s poisonous, I’ll eat a bezoar.”  

“What’s that?” asked Sam.  

“Thing that helps with poison.  It’s gross, you don’t want to know where they come from.”

“I thought we were being honest–”

“It’s a stone formed in a someone’s stomach or gut,” said Danny.  “Like a gallstone.”

Sam looked fascinated, if disgusted.  “Does… does that actually work?”

“I’m… not actually sure.  But it can’t hurt.”

“I don’t know, it kind of sounds like it could be poisonous on it’s own.”

That was what Danny said to his parents, but did they listen?  No.  

He shrugged at Sam walked away from the building and towards the shore of the pond, where the branches trailed in the water and the fruit was easier to reach.  He pulled one off and rolled it in his hand.  It felt like a plum, even if the size and color was off.  

“Danny, are you sure,” started Tucker.  

"Am I sure what?" asked Danny, opening his kit.

"What are you doing?"

Danny looked down at the beaker in his hand, then back up at Tucker.  "Testing for common poisons?"

"Oh.  I thought you were just going to eat it."

"No, that's weird."  He set up his materials and poked a hole in the fruit with his knife to get some juice.  He let it drip into the containers, then stood up to throw the punctured fruit into the pond.

"Maybe we shouldn't throw things into the potentially magic pond," suggested Sam in a way that wasn't very suggestion-like.  

Danny shrugged at her, wondering vaguely if shrugging at royalty was a punishable offense.  Something caught his eye.

“Hey, there’s a bucket here,” said Danny.  “Do you think we’re supposed to do something with the bucket?”  He walked over and picked it up.

"Maybe it's to actually water the tree," said Tucker.  

"That makes sense," said Danny.  He tossed the bucket at Tucker.  Tucker fumbled it.  

“Why me?”

“I’ve got to watch this,” said Danny, pointing at where the fruit was reacting or not reacting to the chemicals in the beakers.  “And, well…”

“Dear gods,” said Sam.  “You had better not be about to say that I’m somehow unable to fill and carry a bucket because I’m a girl.”

“No.  I just thought you wouldn’t want to.”  And she could probably make life very hard for them if they annoyed her too much.  

Sam scoffed and took the bucket from Tucker.  “I’ve got it.”  

“Alright,” said Tucker.  “She’s got it.”

.

The tests for poison came back negative, so…

Danny bit into a fruit he’d just picked and blinked.  “Oh, these are actually really good.”

“We’ll take your word for it.”

.

“Look,” said Tucker, “That thing’s not doing anything, so I’m going to see if I can find the main road.  I’d prefer it if you came with me, but…”

“Might as well,” said Danny.  

“Fine,” said Sam.  “But we’re going to take precautions to make sure we can get back here.”

“Like what?” asked Danny.  

Sam pulled out a clue of string from… somewhere.  

“Do you just carry that around?”

“Of course.  String is useful.”

.

It turned out it didn’t matter.  No matter how they left the clearing, they wound up back in it.  

.

"It's been a couple hours," said Danny as they laid on the ground under the tree.  "I probably would have died by now if there was actually poison in those fruits."

"Mhm," said Sam, contemplatively.

"Just a question, but, speaking of which, have either of you noticed the sun getting lower?"

"No," said Sam.

"Nope," said Tucker.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."  He looked up at the still-blue sky.  “You guys are going to have to eat or drink something eventually.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker.  “But I’ve been thinking, and… what if it takes us someplace worse?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  

“Staying isn’t an option.”

“It could be.  Maybe the fruit grows back, or there’s fish in the pond.”

“Have you seen any fish?” asked Danny.  

“No.  Why?”

“Sometimes people use fish as fertilizer.”

“We don’t have anything to catch fish with.”

“We’ve got string and the fruit.  Maybe we can find some worms, too?”

“Might as well,” said Sam.  

.

None of them were particularly skilled at fishing.  No fish were caught.  

.

Sam chewed on the fruit.  “You know,” she said, “if it weren’t for the mortal peril and all, I’d say this was pretty good.”

“It is tasty,” allowed Tucker, who was pausing to glare at the fruit between every bite.  

“No, I mean all this.”  Sam waved at nothing in particular.  “It’s nice.  Fun.”  

At least someone was having a good day.  He’d been trying to ignore the swollen lump on the back of his head and his black eye, but it hadn’t really been working.  

Under other circumstances, though… He could see hanging out with Sam and Tucker being fun.  The odds of that happening if Sam went on with princess-ing and Tucker became a monk were pretty low, though.

“I don’t think I’ve done anything without being watched by half a dozen people since I was eight.”

“Anything?” repeated Danny.

“Anything.”

Danny didn’t want to ask, but the question was there, in his head.

“Yes, in the bath, too.”  She sighed and held up the fruit pit.  “I suppose we should bury these?  Over there, maybe?”

“Can’t hurt,” said Danny.  “Anyone have a shovel?  And– Oh!”  He opened up his kit.  “We can use this!”  He held up a vial of white powder.

“What’s that?”

“Niter!”

“... Doesn’t that explode?” asked Tucker.

“Sometimes.”

“Why do we want to explode anything?” asked Sam.  

“We don’t.  It’s fertilizer.”

“But it’s white.”

“So?”

Tucker sighed heavily.  “Maybe we can use the bucket as a shovel?”

.

Sam patted down the last bucket-scrape of dirt with a gleeful expression.  They were all pretty grimy at this point, but it looked like she was enjoying it.  

The scraping sound wasn’t exactly music to Danny’s ears, but it was still something.  They ran to the building.  Three of the walls had dropped.  The one nearest to the pond had remained standing.  

Danny swallowed.  Something felt… Not wrong, exactly, but there was a strong sense of meaning.  

“Hey,” he said, before Sam and Tucker could step in, “wait.  Maybe only one of us should go in.  Just in case.”

“In case what?  We’re already in a bad way,” said Sam.  “We might as well face this together.”

Danny nodded.  “Yeah, but this feels…  Different.  If everything’s fine, you can come in, too.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny, “but you wanted a Ranger for a reason.”

“Yes, but we’ve established you aren’t one.”

“I’m enough of one for us to get here, right?  If I get stuck in there, you can always plant more pits and open it back up.”

“And who knows if we’ll be in the same place?” asked Sam.  

“Just… humor me on this,” said Danny.  “And remember, if I do get cursed, we have the magicidium.”

“There has to be an easier name for that,” muttered Tucker. 

“Sure.  Blood blossoms.  They’re called that because they’re red.”

Tucker spread his hands.  “Then why–”

“I like saying it.  It makes it sound cooler.”

Sam raised her hand, stopping them.  “You know you’re the only one who can read the old language, right?  You’d be the one going in to look at what’s written there.”

“I know.  I’m the one who suggested it.”

Sam groaned, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her wrists.  “I should have learned the old language instead of Elmerian.”

Danny shrugged.  “There’s always the future?”

Both of… oh, he might as well call them his friends, at this point… glared at him.  

“Fine,” said Sam, “but if you do get cursed, I’m going to say I told you so.”

With trepidation, Danny crossed into the building.  The floor and ceiling hadn’t changed, but the only upright wall was now packed with writing.  He craned his neck back to see what was on top.  The words almost seemed to glitter.

“This is a lot,” he said.  

“Can we come in now?” asked Sam.

“Not yet,” said Danny.  “Let me translate this first.  Children of the land, know this, we, your forefathers, and we of the land have built this path to see the… obscured?”  A shadow fell across Danny’s view of the carving, making the words seem to flash.  He stood on his tip-toes and leaned closer, squinting.  “To understand the world… beyond?  Within.  The world within the woods, and you have come because they have failed and you wish to repair.”  He put his hand on the stone as he leaned still closer, nose almost pressed against the stone in an effort to see just a little better.  It slid into a comfortable depression and he continued to read.  “Let the bright magic– mana– let mana alter–”

Light flared across his vision, then everything went dark.  He yelped.  

“Danny?!”

“I’m–  Hells and heavens–”   He rubbed his eyes.  “The sun didn’t suddenly disappear after that flash, did it?”

“No.”

“What flash?”

He’d been afraid of that.  “I’ve been cursed.”  His heart did a funny twist at the admission.  

If his parents were here, they’d be thrilled.  

Actually, probably not.  If they’d been cursed, they’d be thrilled.  They’d still be upset about him getting cursed.

“What?”

“I can’t see anything.  I must have triggered it somehow–”  He shook his head, as if that would throw off his blindness.  “The word obscured.  I thought it was just the lighting, but maybe it really flashed?  Um.”  He turned around, carefully.  “I think it was just the words that triggered it, but I’m going to walk in your direction…”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tucker, “you’re going the right way.”

“Just stay straight,” encouraged Sam.  

The building was barely three strides across, but at the same time it was the longest walk he’d ever taken.  He was relieved when Sam and Tucker grabbed him.  

“Alright, so, if you guys can open my kit and get out the magicidium–”

“Blood blossoms.  Let’s call it blood blossoms.”

“Whatever you want,” said Danny.  

“They’re red, right?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, and sparkly.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Good,” said Danny, holding out his hand.  “Can you–  The cap?”

Sam pressed the vial into his hand, her fingers lingering around his as she made sure he had a grip on it.  

“I should just need, like, a sip,” he told himself.  He raised it to his lips, drank, and immediately knew that what he had in his hand wasn’t the blood blossom mixture.

With a calm he didn’t feel, he lowered the vial. 

“Can you see, now?” asked Sam.  

“No,” said Danny.  “I can’t.  What color is this?”  He held up the vial.

“Red,” said Sam.  

“The vial is red,” clarified Danny.

“Yes, that’s what you said, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Danny, closing his eyes.  “That’s- The blood blossoms are red.  But the vial they’re in is green.  This is the mana, isn’t it?”

“Uh,” said Tucker.  

“Kinda crackly glaze, glowing green on the inside?”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, weakly.  “It looked different in the dark.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, voice cracking.  “The dark does that.”

“I thought you said the red vial,” said Sam, very quietly.  “Oh, no, I thought you said the red vial.”  She sounded like she might be about to cry.

“Hey, it’s hard to tell the difference between red and green,” said Tucker, clearly intending to comfort her.    

“Genuinely, it is not.”

Someone, probably Tucker, swallowed audibly.  “You can still take the blood blossoms, though, right?”

“No!  No.  They don’t react well with concentrated mana.”

“By not reacting well, do you mean–”

“Niter isn’t the only thing in my kit that can make explosions.”  He swallowed and opened his eyes.  He still couldn’t see anything but this still felt more like facing things.  “This is fine.  I’m just blind, not dying.”  Probably.  “We’ll just be relying on more guesswork than before.  Or I can try to figure out what it’s saying by touch?”

“No,” said Sam, grabbing his wrist, “do you want to get more cursed?”

“Carefull,” he hissed.  “We don’t want to spill this here.  Where’s the stopper?”

“Here,” said Tucker, taking the vial of mana from him.  

“What else do you remember from what you were reading?  Before you were cursed?”

“I don’t know.  Something about letting magic change you to be…  Something.  And then something about guarding both sides on the next line down.  Or fighting.  Maybe something about waking up.  I don’t remember.”  

“Danny,” said Tucker, “your eyes are glowing.”

“They’re not, like, melting or anything, are they?”

“Just glowing.  The same color as the, uh, stuff.  The mana.”

“And your hair is turning white,” added Sam.  

“Oh, that’s great.  Maybe I am dying.”

“Don’t say that,” said Sam.  “Maybe- Maybe this is magic changing you, and we just have to let it run its course.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Neither do I, but it’s that or you explode, so forgive me for a little optimism!”  She’d never dropped his wrist, and now she trapped his hands between hers.  “I don’t want you to die.”

“Neither do I,” said Tucker.  “You’re my best friend.”

“We haven’t seen each other for years,” said Danny, trying not to sound choked.  “Come on.”

“Hey, some friendships are timeless, right?”

Sam sniffled.  “Even short ones.”

Gods, he really might be dying.  

“Does that mean I can tell people I’m friends with a princess?”

“Only if you want my mother trying to get you executed.”

“That’s not a n–”

The sound of the wall behind him dropping made Danny jump.  But what made him spin was that he could see light coming from behind him.  

Footprints made of flowers glowed on the ground.  A rectangle in the dimensions of the far wall was cut out of the darkness surrounding him.  Beyond it…

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Do you guys see that?”

“Do you?” asked Sam, suddenly sharp.  

“Maybe.”  He took a deep shuddering breath.  “Were there steps leading down to the pond before?  And was the pond glowing?”

“No,” said Tucker.  “But we don’t see that.”

“We see everyone,” said Sam.  “The way out.  The knights are there, someone must have sent for them.”  She laughed.  “We can get out.  They must not be able to see us, though.”

“I don’t think I can go that way,” said Danny.  “I don’t see it.”

He could only see the ancient and watchful trees that surrounded the clearing, the faintly luminous waters of the pond and the steps that led down to them.  Images of trees, not quite reflections, swayed on the pond’s glowing surface, seeming to extend into the depths.

“You should go,” he said, faintly.  “Now.  You don’t know if you’ll get another chance.”

If his heart had been twisting before, it was shuddering now.  

“No,” said Sam.  “No.  I started this.  None of this would have happened if I didn’t bring you here.  I’m not going to leave you.  We’ll go down to the pond with you.  Or at least I will.”  The last was said with an edge of challenge.

“Me, too,” said Tucker, though he seemed far less certain.  “I got you into this mess, Danny.”

“I don’t know that I’m going down to the pond,” said Danny, both touched and annoyed.  “And you don’t know if you can, if you can’t see it.”

“It’s where the path leads,” said Sam, stubbornly.  “Didn’t you read that that’s why this place was built.”

The footprints.  Danny closed his eyes briefly, and nodded.  “Walk where I walk,” he said, putting his foot squarely on the first print.  

He wasn’t sure if it was just the magic doing weird things to his vision, but as he got closer to the opening, the prints seemed to shift when he wasn’t looking straight at them, taking shapes other than a human sole.  He tried not to think about what that might mean.

He stepped out of the building.  Sam and Tucker walked out after him.  

“Wow,” said Sam, looking around.  “That’s… definitely different.”  She waved her hand in front of her.  “It’s like the air is glowing.”

A breeze stirred the waters of the pond to lap at the lowest step.  It felt like they were beckoning him down into that even stranger forest beneath its waters.

He pulled the strap of his travel kit off over his head.  “Here,” he said, handing it to Tucker.  “Just in case.”

“We’re going to be with you,” said Tucker, trying to push it back to him.  

“Yeah, but… Let me go first, alright?”

He stepped down and forward, once, twice, and his foot broke the surface of the water–

.

A forest is not a single thing.  It is a vast and sprawling ecosystem, containing within itself multitudes.  Creatures, plants, and even decay.  Life, limited and not.  Water, from beneath the earth, from the sky, from the rivers and streams, from the lakes and the ponds.  Air and soil and stone.  Death that becomes life and life that becomes death.  The trees stretch upwards.  

Yet, it is a single thing.  

Truthfully, sometimes it is even a single life.  A thousand trees with a single root.

And, here, there was magic.  

The woods woke, stirred from slumber by the ripples of a stone thrown into still water.  

A stone is changed by water.  A stone is changed, also, by the root of a tree piercing through it, dividing it, scattering it.  A stone may be shaped.  A stone may be changed.  But this stone was clay.  This stone was flesh.  This stone was a seed that might yet grow.  This seed was a star that might yet shine.  

They were awake.  

They were awake, and, so, they would wake.  

But the people were the land and the land was the woods, and the heart of the land had long ago promised a champion to the people, a guardian at both sides of the gate.  A contract that was wisdom.

The seed was well rooted, but the star was of the air, and there was accord between heaven and earth.  This satisfied.  But the price of knowledge was always the destruction of ignorance.  

This was the past:  The sword, the spear, the fire, for evil is the reward of evil, and sown salt shall reap no harvest but salt.  Monsters met with monstrous ends, even the monsters who called themselves men.  

“I don’t want to be a killer,” whispered Danny, “I don’t want to kill people.”

Then he would not be, and the gifts of killers would not be his.  

This, too, was the past: The wall.  The tower.  The rope.  The net.  The maze.  The binding word.  The sacrifice.  The promise.  

It shall be kept.  

“It shall be kept.”

And this was the past:  The house that was built under ax and saw, a home for a gardener.  The books that became forests of their own.  Long memories and longer stories, passed on forever.  The campfire and the meal shared.  The trees tended, and new growth rising from ashes. 

“I can do that,” said Danny.  “I can be that.”

The heart of the land sent forth a gift, with passion, wisdom, and wit, and it was received.  That which gives is also given, and that which is gifted may also receive.  There were gifts.  There were expectations.  A gift must be given in turn.

And the fruit of the trees shall sustain.  And the branches of the trees shall shelter.  And that which is protected shall protect.

And this was the future.

.

Danny crawled out of the pond, gasping.  Hands - familiar, now - pulled him up and out.  

“Oh, gods, Danny–”

“What?” he managed, spitting up water.  

“There’s stuff growing on you–”

“Your ears–”

“Princess Samantha!”

Something heavy and hard jostled into their little group, knocking Danny back to the ground.  He could feel it.  The ground.  All those little lives and deaths.  The things growing, hungry, wanting, needing– All the things he could give them–

“Stop this at once!” demanded Sam, bringing him out of… whatever that was.  He looked up and around, and was impressed by how many sharp, shiny, pointy things were pointed in his direction.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but was thwarted by his body deciding it just wasn’t going to do that.  His whole body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together with new parts.

… Which might actually be what happened.  The… presence in the woods within the pond had been…  It had been an experience.  One he wasn’t keen on repeating in the near future but nevertheless ached for.  

His head didn’t hurt anymore, at least.

“Back foul beast!” shouted one of the knights with a spear, his voice reverberating within his helmet.  “You will not lay your hand on the princess–”

“I was the one touching him!  He’s not a beast– Let me go!  Tucker, say something!”

“Please don’t kill us!  Danny’s just cursed!”

“What manner of curses have you wrought upon the princess!  Release her from your geas, monster!”

If Danny wasn’t so scared right now, he’d be laughing.  Who talked like that?

But he was scared.  He needed to get away.  He needed speed, swiftness, and the agility, or at least the size, to avoid all these spears and swords.  

Which was a ridiculous thought to cross his mind, because it wasn’t like he was going to pull any of those things from thin air.  

Except he did.  Change rippled over his body, throwing off white sparks like from fireworks.  Fingernails to claws, hands to paws, ears sharp, tail -  He ran, four-footed, between the feet of the nearest knight, body stretching and contracting in his flat-out sprint as if he knew what he was doing.  

He had no idea what he was doing.  

A spear impacted the ground in front of him, and he startled sideways into a horse’s path.  Everything was so much larger than him, now.  He lashed out, claws raking across the horse’s nose, and the horse reared back, dumping its rider.  

It occurred to Danny, then, in a sort of vague, panicked sense, that whatever he’d turned into, he could cause a lot of chaos.  

The next horse he saw, he went for the eyes.  

He neglected to realize that, as small as he was, chaos might affect him more than it usually did.  

Still, he made it to the brushy edge of the clearing in what he hoped was one piece.  He crawled underneath it, hopping through thin spots whenever he was able.  A tree rose up out of the shrubby mess like a godsent miracle, and he climbed up it, sinking his sharp claws into the bark, until he got to a branch that could support his weight.  His real weight, not whatever he weighed now.  

He huddled down, trying to remember what the change felt like, trying to will it to reverse, to make him himself again–

Slowly, his body returned to normal, fur fading back into skin, claws becoming nails once again.  His clothing, sans shoes, rematerialized from somewhere.  But… This wasn’t what his body had been like when he’d crawled out of the pond.  It had been different, then.  He could feel it.  He knew it.  

The tree he was perched in was not the presence below the pond, but that was a matter of degree, not kind.  The roots of the woods were tangled and reached as far down as the branches reached up.  To stone.  To star.  

It was quiet.  Steady.  Already established.  It didn’t need things from him, not like the ground.  Not right now, anyway.  

But still, it whispered to him, and he knew.  This was no more him than the forest cat's body he'd worn moments ago.

He curled in on himself and cried.

.

Tucker found him first, over a week later.

Although, it might have been better to say that Danny let himself be found.  Shapeshifting into a cat or squirrel helped with hiding, funnily enough.  

Shapeshifting was fun, even if it wasn't worth… everything else.  At least, so long as he was in the trees.  With his feet on the ground, listening to everything beneath them, without the lightning focus of fear, he couldn't direct it.  What he was fell apart into… this.  

Not the same as he'd been as Sam and Tucker dragged him from the pond, but more like it.  A shape closer to what he was wanted to be rather than what he wanted to be.  

But he'd seen Tucker coming, and he didn't want to talk to him while hiding in the trees.  That would be wrong, he felt.  

So, he walked into the middle of the road in front of Tucker, moss and grass curling up around toes that weren’t shaped right.  His fingers were long and sharp and so were his teeth.  He had no idea what his face looked like right now.  He hadn’t been brave enough to check… assuming, of course, that he could even tell by touch.  He could have stripes right now and not know it.  

He hoped he was, at least, recognizable.  

“Danny, gods.  We thought you were dead.”

Oh, good.  At least that fear was unfounded.  

“Hi, Tucker,” said Danny.  After not talking much for a week, his voice was scratchy.  

… Or maybe that was the crying.  Who knew?

“Oh my gods.”  Tucker drew his hands down his face.  “I can understand why you didn’t come back to the city with…”  He gestured at Danny’s entire body.

“That’s not why,” said Danny, before he could continue.  “I can’t leave the woods.”

“You what?  What do you mean, you can’t leave?”

“I just can’t.”  He’d tried to leave, at the beginning, but it didn’t work.  He could walk to the border of the woods, where they opened up into the fields immediately around the city.  He was quite comfortable there, even, standing under those branches, looking out.  But he couldn’t go any further.  

“Because of the curse?”

“I guess,” said Danny.  “There’s not really anything else, is there?  There’s not something that just makes people stop for no good reason.”  

“Can you– I brought the blood blossom stuff, can you take it?  Maybe–”

“No,” said Danny, firmly.

“But–” said Tucker, pulling the green vial out of his pocket.  

Danny wanted to cringe away from it.  “Just.  No.  Tucker…  I’m not sure how much…”  He wasn’t sure how much of him was left that wasn’t magic.  “Sometimes, when curses really take hold, it doesn’t–”  He sucked his lips in and regretted it as his long teeth scrapped at them.  “What do you think happens when that stuff is put on something that is magic?”  Danny tilted his head to the side and tried to smile again.  “It’s been over a week.”  

He watched Tucker’s face shift as he realized what that might mean, and his smile fell as well.  

"I've seen my parents come through a few times," he said, just to say something different.

"Did you talk to them?"

"No." He grimaced.  "Apparently, I'm a creature now.”  He ignored that he’d said as much to Tucker just moments ago.  “It didn't seem… smart."

"That must be…"  Tucker paused to search for an appropriate adjective.  "Hard."

"Yeah."  He'd been wondering if Jazz had come home.  If she was looking for him, too, or if she was still in Elmerton.  If she knew.  But he didn’t want to ask.  

"Sam will want to see you."  Tucker bit his lower lip.  "She kind of… asked if I would look.  I was going to anyway!  But… I can tell her I couldn't find you, if you don't." 

“No, I think I’d like that, actually.  She was right.  It was fun, before.”  He sniffled.  “Maybe we can even try to find what she was actually looking for.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Tucker, aghast.  “Messing around with all of this cursed you to have weird ears and be stuck in the woods for who knows how long.  Let’s just forget–  Well, I mean, avoid anything else like this as much as we can.”

The woods leaned in around them.  “I don’t think it works like that,” said Danny.  “Things are waking up.  And I think… I think the only reason Sam was able to find the- the path was because the woods were already waking up.  And some of the things… I don’t think they’re good, Tuck.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” squeaked Tucker.  “You know your eyes are glowing again, right?”

“Are they?”  He blinked and shook his head.  “Have you been looking for me the whole time?”

Tucker laughed nervously.  “No.  There’s, uh.  Turns out that if you disappear with the princess there are questions.  Lots and lots of questions.  So many questions.”  He shuddered.  “And my master is angry at me.  And the guild is angry with me.  But I’m fine!  What- What have you been up to?  What else have you been up to?  I, uh.  Ha.  Ha?"

A wry smile twitched the corner of Danny's lips.  "The tops of the trees, I guess." 

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

🗒️ Vandal 🗒️

Word Count: 16,000+ (And nobody asked for any of it!)

Summary: A quiet high school student looks a little too closely at the tragic events afflicting their hometown. Can you uncover the truth while keeping your own secrets hidden? Or will a lapse in judgment expose you to a world of hurt? || Kol x disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: Some language, references to blood and gore, Kol being a psycho, and some dubious consent but nothing violent or graphic. This turned out a little more Yandere than I intended. Just expect ya gal's general tomfoolery.

A/N: Howdy-doo, this is your captain speaking. I know I promised a lot of you that I would have the sequel to Run for Your Life finished last week, but it's still not done and I'm really sorry. I wrote this instead. Please forgive me. I hate letting y'all down but inspiration has been really low as of late and, as some of you know, I've been facing some very serious struggles with people in my life. My sense of self-worth has been suffering, but writing this fic has been my best escape. So again, I'm really sorry to those who were expecting the Klaus fic, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

🗒️ Story Begins Below 🗒️

When Niklaus Mikaelson confined himself to his studio, it was common knowledge among all parties of blood relation to the original hybrid that any sibling who valued their breathing privileges should promptly vacate the premises until such a time as that tortured artist ceased muttering his internal monologue aloud. 

Kol, for one, was quite fond of his breathing privileges, thank you very much. 

Ugh, breathing. 

The one thing he’d never thought would require adjusting to through the centuries was now yet another factor among a dozen others that required getting used to. 

The air of this new age he’d found himself in was thick and hazy with chemicals and other nonsense he didn’t care to think about. Drawing the filthy mixture into his lungs required significantly more effort from him than it used to. He wondered vaguely how the humans surrounding his seat at the bar of this stodgy town’s only decent restaurant did it with such ease. It must’ve been tiring. Perhaps that was why so many of the patrons around him seemed content to spend their morning religiously devoted to quaffing down as much of that - oh, what had Mary-Alice called it? - caffeine stuff as they could possibly contain. 

Though the name would suggest otherwise, Kol figured the only way the Mystic Grill, as the place was called, could remain in business was to serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks. Hence why the place was packed with half-conscious teenagers at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, stopping off for something to eat on their way to school. How did Rebekah enjoy this? Though she’d accompanied him to the grill, Kol’s sister had been quick to grab her coffee and ditch him. She wanted to arrive to school early so she could “talk”. (The notion tempted Kol to impale himself on a billiard cue.) 

Rebekah was also rather upset with him, or more specifically, his newfound enrollment in her high school. There was nothing he could do about that, however. If it was up to him, Kol would choose to spend his time literally any place else. Unfortunately for him, after that little incident with Rebekah’s date, mother dearest had been contemplating ways to keep him in line. High school was evidently what she’d come up with. It was Finn’s idea actually. Kol’s eldest brother - dull lout that he was - had suggested that perhaps attending high school with his sister would provide a convenient way for Kol to catch up on recent history, as well as assist him in developing some control over his appetite seeing as each family member had given their word not to shed the blood of any locals. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Esther had done more than just readily agree. She’d also cast a tracking spell on him. If he strayed beyond the town’s limits, she would know. 

Rest assured, he would find a way to weasel out of it - that was certain. But for now, Kol was stumped. This resurrected version of his mother wasn’t quite so dismissive of him as she’d been in Kol’s human life. He should have liked that - should have reveled in it. Yet, having her attention this time around came with a cold harshness he wasn’t so fond of. For now though, he would have to endure his punishment. Thanks to Klaus, he couldn’t even skip out.

Thus Kol found himself in an overly crowded restaurant, at six in the morning on his first day of school, surrounded by teenagers.

Kol desperately wished he could eat one or two of them. 

They were so rowdy and obnoxious. The whole world it seemed had grown significantly louder since he’d been daggered in nineteen fourteen. So much information assaulting his senses constantly. It was maddening. Being surrounded by thirty or so warm bodies didn’t exactly help. The chorus of their heartbeats fell on his sensitive ears like the cresting of ocean waves and like a riptide, he would surely be carried away if he allowed himself to listen much longer. 

The boy’s throat burned. He was hungry. Always hungry. He could practically taste the relief on his tongue. The high he could get from just one little cheerleader…

Kol got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and shoved his way out the door, cursing Finn’s name to Hel and back. He reached the end of the street and stopped. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kol rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Wrong move.

A gentle autumn breeze swept past and carried with it a hint of something sweet. No, that was too tame. That scent on the air was like pure sugar and spring water, something like berries and roses and cotton candy all rolled into one supremely tempting aroma so overpowering he nearly choked. White hot pain shot through him and his mouth watered. He was standing in the midst of town square before he even realized he’d moved. 

There, kneeling hunched over on the ground, all alone in the early morning, was a young woman who looked about the same age as he did. Any view of her face was obscured by the curtain of her hair as it fell around her in something of an untamed mess. Her clothes, nothing fancier than a t-shirt and shorts, were rumpled and irreparably stained with just about every color one could imagine as she focused intently on whatever she was doing. Scattered all around her were about a dozen cans of paint and at least a hundred individual sticks of chalk in a variety of shades. She was decorating the walkways, Kol realized as he watched her dip her hand directly into one of the cans of paint before slathering the color over the flagstones she was working on. Once satisfied that the area was evenly covered, she sat up.

The girl paused to wipe her hand on a wet rag before shuffling back around to a different section where the paint looked a little drier. 

Kol had just enough time to register the pattern of scrapes that decorated her hands and knees before that delicious scent washed over him again. It was stronger now that he was so close and like a punch to the gut, just a whiff of it knocked the wind out of him. His throat seared and his fangs ached. She was right there in front of him, trickles of blood seeping from her hands and knees - rivers of temptation. Whatever ichor was rushing through that girl’s veins would certainly be divine. Kol wanted it. He wanted to taste her warm human skin - wanted to lick the scarlet from those teasing little scrapes she’d made. No one was around. He could have that sweet, sweet crimson ambrosia all to himself. 

There was just one problem. This girl was a local. Her residence was clear from the tags dangling from her backpack which she’d tossed a few feet away. Kol couldn’t eat any of the locals, he’d given his word on it. 

Unfortunately for him, that boy’s sense of honor apparently wasn’t enough to keep his legs from moving. He was standing over her shoulder in a matter of seconds. His looming shadow must have caught her attention because the girl paused her work (she was rubbing lines of chalk into the paint now) and twisted around to look up at him, squinting against the rising sun at his back. Her cheeks were twinged with a delicious shade of pink, likely due to the warm, humid morning, and she smiled in a friendly, albeit slightly confused way.

“Hey!” She greeted - voice practically a chirp. The girl lifted a hand to her face in an effort to further block out the sun, but the offensive light couldn’t dampen her smile. Kol fought the urge to roll his eyes at her sunny disposition.

“Good morning, darling.” He flashed her a grin - the crooked one that made girls like her faint. Kol gestured to the swirling mix of hues currently stinging his eyes. “What’s this going to be?” 

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Could you say that a little louder?” She asked. Her voice was soft but rich with a delicate, wispy quality to it like a warm caramel stretched apart. He supposed it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to.

“Are you painting something specific or is it more abstract?” He wondered, raising his voice a little. Abstract was certainly the most polite term for eyesore, he thought. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! It’s Mystic Falls,” She said brightly. Then she paused. Her face scrunched up a bit and even Kol could admit it was a little endearing. “Um, I mean, not the town, but like, the falls as in the waterfalls… yeah.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper at the end and she cast her eyes away. 

Kol hummed. “I see.” He didn't actually care, however. He’d seen enough. This girl, tantalizing as her blood might be, wasn’t worth his time - nor his mother’s wrath should he break his oath. There was no thrill in chasing someone like that, girls like her gave in too easily. 

Without warning, the little artist stiffened and whipped her head back up to face him, drawing Kol from his thoughts. 

“Say, what’s the time?” She wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Her lips looked rather tasty when she did that.

Kol raised a brow and checked his watch. “Ten to seven,” He answered. 

She cocked her head again. “Sorry, what?”

“Ten to seven,” He repeated a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Bloody hell!” The boy huffed. “It’s six-fifty! Are you Deaf?”

She snorted. “Uh, huh. Yeah.” Kol’s eyes narrowed but the girl only turned her head, shoving a lock of hair back to reveal some technological array perched over her ear. The artist shrugged and faced him again. “It’s the accent, I think. Plus, it ain’t my fault you mumble. What time did you say it was again? I forgot.”

It wasn’t the disability that annoyed him, he wasn’t that shallow. It was her attitude he couldn’t stand. 

“Six. Fifty. One,” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “CRAP!” 

The annoying little artist sprang to her feet, scooped her bag from where she’d flung it, and dashed off just like that. He huffed at her lack of tact - not so much as a word of thanks. It was probably best for both of them if they never saw each other again. That mouth-watering ray of sunshine was unlikely to survive another encounter with him.

As he debated whether or not to just wander around aimlessly for the remainder of the day, Kol caught sight of an object that must have tumbled out of the artist’s bag. Only the slightest bit curious, he bent down to pick it up. Upon taking a closer look at it, Kol raised a brow. Well worn and faded, the sketchbook in his hands was nothing special - almost every artist had one, that was no surprise. What caught his attention, however, was the design on the cover, or more accurately, what had been made of it. Whereas the front of the sketchbook had once depicted a quaint scene from what he recognized to be the story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with little Alice looking up at the Cheshire Cat perched lazily in a tree, the girl had turned it into something far more sinister. 

For one thing, she’d given Alice a broadsword. Her dress had been redecorated with dirt stains and blood. As for the Cheshire Cat, the artist had transformed the feline into a marionette with blood-stained teeth and dreadful claws. The background had been scribbled out with a black marker. All save for a grinning silhouette, tugging at the strings of its Cheshire Cat puppet, and a line of bold, bloody letters spelling out the phrase: “We’re All Mad Here.”

It was a delightfully grotesque perversion of a story Kol had rather enjoyed reading when it was first published. Perhaps that girl wasn’t quite so boring after all. 

Kol smirked and slipped the sketchbook into his own school bag. Serves her right for being so disrespectful. Besides, the book was steeped in that exquisite aroma of hers, and if he couldn’t devour the poor thing then keeping a little memento was his next best option. If she wanted it back, she’d simply have to prove herself deserving of it. Until then, that little book of horrors was all his.

Who knows what he might do with it?

No matter what, this was bound to be… entertaining.

***

You’d never liked cheerleaders. They’d always seemed so shallowly chipper - the sort of nice that giggles behind a person’s back. Most people said you were just jealous, wishing you could have their beauty, body, or popularity. They were wrong, of course, cheerleading simply wasn’t your thing. As for appearances, at least you were confident enough in your looks that you didn’t require validation from fellow minors. You never corrected the masses though. You let them think whatever they want. (After all, you had other, more important things on your mind.)

All feelings about cheerleaders aside, they were excellent subjects for drawing poses. It was them or the football team and you couldn’t be paid enough to go anywhere near them. Besides, you had already obtained permission from the members of the cheer squad to sit in on their practices. They figured you must have been lonely and seeking their approval. You didn’t correct them either. The girls on the squad were nice enough, though you didn’t know any of them very well. Just some first names. 

Caroline, Bonnie, Amber, Laura, Rebekah. 

Now that Rebekah was an odd one. She sort of unnerved you. Like the rest, the British blonde was nice enough, but something about her wasn’t quite right. She’d just dropped off the map for a month and a half and then showed up today as if she’d never been gone. Then there was her relationship with the other cheerleaders. Half of them avoided her like the plague and the other half worshiped the ground she walked on. It wasn’t normal.

Life isn’t like the drama shows all over tv. Kids in the real world don’t act that way. 

You hadn’t grown up in Mystic Falls. Your parents moved your family into town one year ago. Though you were just a sophomore then, you knew enough to understand that something about this whole town and everything that had been happening within the last year just wasn’t right. Within your sophomore and junior years alone, no less than twenty-six kids were reported missing. At least six were later confirmed dead.

Was it really any wonder you kept to yourself? 

You were fine with being alone. It didn’t bother you. 

What bothered you was that you had somehow lost track of your sketchbook. That bundle of pages hardly ever left your person. You never went anywhere without it, and yet when you had sat on the bleachers and reached into your backpack to pull it out, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found. Who knew what small-town hic had gotten their grubby little hands on it? 

Alright, that was mean. You just wanted your book back. The idea of someone else flipping through your sketches irked you to no end.

“Well hello again, darling!” A semi-familiar voice rang out from behind you on the bleachers and you twisted around to face him. Had that kid been up there all this time? The boy grinned down at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You offered him a tight smile. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “Fancy that.”

The boy was pretty, that was for sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a sharp jawline. Not to mention that smile, you’d sooner light yourself on fire than call it “dazzling” but you would like to draw it sometime. All in all, he was probably the closest thing to masculine perfection you would ever lay eyes upon. But you weren’t dumb enough to judge a person off of looks alone. 

Though you had nothing to go off of aside from your brief meeting that morning, you didn’t quite like that kid. On the surface, he seemed alright. A little impatient but still pretty normal. It was the way he looked at you… it reminded you of the feeling you got back in your old town whenever you noticed that your best friend's pet boa constrictor was watching you from inside its tank - how its eyes would follow you no matter what you did. It wasn’t an exactly pleasant sensation. Those onyx eyes of his - when you looked into them, you couldn’t see much of a person looking back. His eyes sparkled when he smiled but behind them… behind them there was nothing. A charming grin without a person inside.

The boy’s odd smile only broadened. 

“You know, I-I didn’t take you for the cheerleading type,” He said. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, squinting against the sun in your eyes. Did he always have to position himself so you had to blind yourself to look at him?

“I’m… not.”

He chuckled. “Obviously.” Climbing to his feet, the boy hopped up onto the seat in front of him and walked gracefully down to your level - at least, as gracefully as one can while walking on bleachers. You should probably warn him about the-

“Careful, that next one wobbles,” You spoke up. Your voice never seemed to come out as loud as you intended, yet he didn’t seem to have a problem catching it. 

“Ah-” He tested the next row with his foot and stepped over it lightly. “Thank you very much.” He grinned again as he jumped down beside you.

The boy was much too close for your liking. 

“You’re welcome,” You mumbled, shuffling away slightly. He only leaned in closer.

“So, if you’re with the cheerleaders, but you’re not one of them, then what does that make you?” He wondered, oblivious or insensitive to your discomfort. You couldn’t tell which. “Unrequited lover or wannabe?”

He raised a brow, smirking in a way that appeared bemused but you could sense its condescending edge. You just shrugged. He could think whatever he wanted. 

He was baiting you, that you were sure of. The dark-haired senior wanted you to answer. He waited for you to answer. But his was a lure you weren't going to bite.  You just kept on drawing - filling in lines, and fine-tuning expressions. You were sure he would give up eventually, kids like him always did.

“Are those your chemistry notes?” He asked finally. 

You hummed and nodded. You’d never been too much of a talker. It had nothing to do with your hearing loss, or maybe it did. That was just who you were either way.

“And you’re sketching in them?”

You shrugged. “Lost my sketchbook.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” At least he had the decency to sound sympathetic. “Did you have it this morning?” You nodded. This boy was persistent, you would give him that. He kept talking. “I see… Well, I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I would have loved to see it,” He said. 

Your lips twitched up in a smile. You wouldn’t have shown him anyway, but that didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

"You never answered my question," He pointed out. He was trying to get to you - get closer to you - and while any other girl would do backflips for the attention of a boy like him, you weren't any other girl. If he wanted to know you, then you couldn't let that happen. If you did, he might figure out your secret. Then you could lose everything - your education, your clean record, and the only money-making opportunity you were likely to get in this tiny, provincial town.

"I know." You sighed and closed your substitute sketchbook, just a little fed up. Maybe it was time to let the sunny, shy-girl facade drop. Perhaps a quick glimpse of who you really were would deter him. "But you're here too. So which are you? Unrequited lover or wannabe?"

The boy threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. His laugh sounded like a stone splashing into a calm pond. Sudden and unique - one of a kind. When his gaze returned to you, he seemed to look you over as if reevaluating his previous judgment of your character. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and shrugged. 

"That's a fair point you make there, darling. I'll have to disappoint you, however, as I am merely here to pick up my sister." He gestured to the girls practicing on the field and then shot you a smirk. The boy held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, darling. I'm Kol, Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, weary.

"I…" 

Glancing up, you met the endless black pits that were his eyes. Your stomach felt queasy. Better to be safe than sorry.

You pushed his hand away. "I… don't particularly care." 

Without another word, you packed up your things and skipped down the bleachers. Exiting left of the football field. 

Perhaps you'd left him stunned. You didn't bother looking back to check.

You started seeing Kol quite often after that, which wouldn't have been weird had he not been a year above you. If it wasn't coincidence that saw you sharing both lunch period and study hall with him, then you didn't want to think about what it was. He kept his distance, which you appreciated. Kol didn't approach you for a while, but whenever you were in the same room with him you couldn't seem to shake a feeling that you were being watched. Closely. 

The day that pattern changed was the day you walked down the hall and found yourself greeted by photocopies of your art taped to every locker. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes landed on that first row of metal doors. The papers fluttered in the wind generated by passing students but you would recognize your art anywhere. 

It was one of the pages from your sketchbook - one of the sketches no one was supposed to see. 

This one depicted the football team, gathered on the field for practice. The sky above was dark and they had their helmets off. Each player's complexion was ghostly pale and their glowing red eyes all stared soullessly at the viewer. Their expressions displayed no emotion, but together they stood in a threatening formation. You had taken inspiration from both classic zombie movies and The Matrix for that sketch. In the top left corner, you had etched the title. You called it "The Hive." 

The only problem was, you hadn't exactly obtained the team's permission to draw it. 

To make matters worse, someone had added an inscription to the image that read: "Members of The Hive possess no individual thought or personality. Furthermore, they acknowledge only other facets of their collective consciousness." The words were scrawled across a crumpled sticky note attached to the top right-hand corner of the page. You hadn't written those words, but it sure looked like your handwriting. Your name was even signed at the bottom.

Someone had stolen and altered your sketchbook, and now they were using it against you.

Panic and paranoia welled up inside you. Clutching your books to your chest, you quickened your pace, catching glimpses of more and more hallways decorated with your sketch. Whispers followed you as you rushed down the hall to your locker, hoping to escape and find solace in your first class of the day, but you had no such luck. Reaching your destination, you gasped at the sight before you, recoiling in shame and confusion. It was like a shot taken straight from a television drama. This thief - whoever they were - had covered your locker with copies of that picture. 

Who would do something like this? You had only been in town a year - you wouldn't have thought that long enough to garner this degree of animosity from anyone.

"What the actual hell, Y/N?" A student exclaimed from down the hall.

Your mouth hung, gaping in shock and you floundered for something - anything to say. There was nothing. No defense. 

"Yeah, Y/L/N! What did Matt and the team ever do to you?"

Your eyes widened. "What?" You shook your head, blinking rapidly as you tried to explain, but your voice refused to rise over the commotion, accusations, and judgment. "N-no, they didn't. I mean, I wasn't trying to-to…"

"You realize how sick this is, right?" Another kid demanded, closer to you this time. "Like, seriously. Judgy much?"

"No, it's not like that," You insisted. It felt like your whole world had been tossed upside down. "I-I just-" You stammered, hapless. For once, it was the people around you who couldn't seem to hear.

"What a creep," Muttered someone else as they passed close enough for your hearing aids to register. Was that what everyone thought of you?

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" Your heart sank. Shame overwhelmed you and you buried your face in your hands, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Your heart felt like a voodoo doll, impaled with all sorts of pins. You'd never felt impressed to explain yourself to anyone. You had never cared what anyone else thought of you. But when you had imagined all the ways your life might fall apart, this wasn't one of the ways you had envisioned. That drawing and the dozens of others like it - they were yours. 

You wished you'd never made them in the first place.

Shaking your head, you switched off your hearing aids and hugged your arms around yourself, perfectly content to stew in your own misery. A dull roar met your ears as students passed by. None stopped to address you. A few of them tossed crumpled-up photocopies of your sketch at your head but you ignored them.

Then a hand settled itself on your knee. 

Startled, you peeked between your fingers, expecting someone like the assistant principal or guidance counselor to be kneeling in front of you. Instead, you were met with the concerned countenance of none other than Kol Mikaelson. 

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. 

He proffered a gentle smile and said something, but his words were lost to the prattling hum that encompassed your world without hearing aids. You preferred it this way. It was your natural state. You saw instead of listened, it was what made you such a good artist. Or so you'd thought.

You shook your head at him weakly, pointing to your ears, and mouthed, "I can't hear you."

Why was he here? Was he just going to tease you as he had a few weeks ago on the football stands? 

Kol nodded. "I know," He signed. His movements were small and lax - nonthreatening. 

Unsure how to interpret his sudden kindness and understanding, you shifted to sit up a little straighter, eyeing him. Kol's lips pressed into a thin line that tried to look like a smile. Without warning, he removed the textbooks resting in your lap and stood.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" He sighed, offering you his hand. Hesitantly, you reached out and took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You stiffened as the boy let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you swiftly against his side, shielding you from the view of others in the hallway as he hastily but gently herded you down crowded hallways and out the heavy steel front doors. 

Just outside the school, there were picnic tables set up where students could sit to study or eat lunch. Those were deserted by now as first period was speedily approaching. Kol guided you to one of them and dropped your books on the table, gesturing for you to sit. You weren't overly fond of being told what to do, but you figured this was probably Kol's best effort to be nice so you obliged. He sat down in front of you and cupped your jaw in his hand. With his brows furrowed and expression drawn the boy seemed to be inspecting your face, though for what you couldn't be sure. 

Absently, you noticed that his hands were very warm despite the changing season. (Why that thought made your stomach queasy was a question for another time.)

Kol's thumb brushed over your cheek and you wanted to look away to hide the flare of heat that consumed your cheeks, but he wouldn't let you. 

"Well, you're not panicking," He observed after what felt like an eternity. "That's good." 

His words were muffled without your hearing aids but now, away from the commotion of the bustling hallways, you could understand him well enough. 

You gave a small nod and, refusing to meet his eyes, focused instead on the grass beneath your feet. 

"I'm fine," You whispered. Your voice was a little hoarse but he didn't know you well enough to recognize that. 

"Are you sure?"

The question was inevitable, yet you found yourself scowling anyway. 

Of course you were fine. You were always fine. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn't want his pity, that you weren't some distressing damsel and that he needed to mind his own business. You weren't some charity case he could use to prove to all the senior girls that he could be a sensitive boyfriend. (You'd been there once. You weren't going through it again.) But, as always, the boldness in your head could never seem to leave your lips.

"It's not your responsibility to take care of me," You told him instead. In your lap, your hands fiddled and tugged on the too-long sleeves of your sweater. You'd gotten chalk on your jeans again.

He let his hand drop and the swirling autumn winds cooled your cheeks. You sort of missed the warmth.

"I know that." Kol's concern morphed into a smirk. This was it. You prepared for the incoming ridicule. It never came. "You don't like anyone getting close, do you?" He guessed, casually leaning back as though he already knew the answer. (And respected it.) "Makes you uncomfortable, I'd imagine."

You shrugged and picked at the loose threads on your sleeve. Honestly, he was right - you were just a bucket of trust issues in a Technicolor wrapper. But was that any of his business? No.

"Why are you here?" You wondered in lieu of an answer. 

Kol raised a brow. "Apologies, darling. I was unaware that it's illegal for a bloke to be a good friend 'this side of the pond." 

"It's not illegal," You said. Your eyes narrowed. "But we're not friends."

You'd made a handful of friends since moving to this town. None of them had come to your aid. Then again, none of them knew about your sketchbook.

Kol smirked. "Consider this an application then!" He surmised, eyes glinting. Those unnerving tar pits seemed a little less dead today than they had before. What changed? He chuckled, amused at your loss for words, and continued. "Besides, I get the feeling I'm just about the only one who knows that sketchbook of yours was stolen from you. The only thing I want to know is, what made you draw that picture?" 

Maybe… if you told him the truth about the sketches, he wouldn't look any closer. 

"I don't like Stefan Salvatore," Came your quiet answer. 

That didn't seem to be what he was expecting, but he didn't look disappointed. Kol's lips twitched and he wet his lips in a way that betrayed a certain excitement. 

"Go on."

You took a breath.

"He and I were the only two new kids last year," You began. If you said this, you were going to sound like a lunatic, that was why you'd always opted to draw it out instead. "Strange things happen in this town, and they happen around him. No town has as many "animal attacks" as this one and those only started when he showed up. People started going missing. Some were found dead. Mr. Saltzman is our history teacher because the guy before him got ripped up right over there in the parking lot just before Stefan's first game as part of team. The police said it was a mountain lion, but I was there; I saw the body and there were no scratches. Then there's the way some of his friends a-and Mr. Saltzman look at him sometimes - I've seen them do it - like he's about to murder everyone in the room and they don't know how to stop him."

Kol stared at you. His expression had grown increasingly weary the longer you kept on rambling. When you finally closed your mouth, he nodded slowly, brows furrowed. You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

"That is…" He trailed off. To your great surprise, however, he nodded as if he actually believed you. "Deeply disturbing, darling." Kol's eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. "You say you saw your teacher's corpse?" He asked.

You nodded. "The "bite" on his neck looked a lot more like buck-shot to me."

His eyes widened. "You think someone killed him?" He hissed.

"And the police covered it up."

"So why draw the football team?"

You hugged your arms around yourself. "Because Matt Donovan is in on it. It's him, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore - they've been acting so weird. Two months ago, Tyler and Stefan started acting really mean all of a sudden and the rest of the football team just started acting like zombies, doing anything they said. It was really freaky."

"And you drew it so you wouldn't have to be afraid." Kol nodded, smiling softly. "Put all the horrors in a little book and out of your head."

This kid had you dead to rights.

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater. "I never meant to hurt anyone," You sighed.

"I know," He said. "For the record, I quite liked your little interpretation."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I'm not sure yet," The dark-haired boy admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, I've never known another town to have as many functions as this one."

"Right?!" You exclaimed. Finally, someone else saw it! "Smells like organized crime to me…"

"Or cult activity."

"Or that."

"Or maybe you're just a little paranoid," Kol surmised. "But if that's the case, then who am I to judge?"

For the first time in a while, your shoulders shook with a genuine laugh. 

"Thanks Kol."

"Anytime, love."

And that boy lived up to his word. Over the span of the next several weeks, more of your sketches were spread about the school. It wasn't long before your so-called friends had all cut contact. Kol became the only person in town willing to talk to you. Every time a drawing was leaked, no matter how dark, twisted, or gruesome the image, Kol was always there to comfort you and compliment your art style. 

Each drawing that circulated the school was more damaging to your reputation than the last. Anyone you thought was in on the secret of Mystic Falls' suspicious deaths, you turned into a monster in the pages of your sketchbook. 

Jeremy Gilbert became a tortured Voodoo doll. 

("Well, there's an odd comparison," Kol commented idly, inspecting the array of pages that had overtaken your locker. "I quite like it."

A student shoved past you on their way to class, ramming painfully into your shoulder. You winced, aware that the action was purposeful, but you didn't say anything. Kol, however, glared at the kid - a cold, chilling sort of glare. 

You shrugged, readjusting your backpack.

"He just always seems so pained lately. 'Looks at everyone like they're gonna kill 'em.")

Elena, his sister, you portrayed as a prim, psychotic puppet master. 

("I'm sorry, but have I done something to you?" The popular and gorgeous former cheerleader asked when she confronted you about the sketch she clutched in her hand. Seniors Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donovan stood with their arms crossed, flanking her on both sides. The sight only served to reinforce the role your imagination had given her - the girl wore her ex's around her like accessories. They were always there to cover for her strange behavior.

"N-no, it's not like that. I-I-I swear!" You stammered, eyes flicking between her broad-shouldered bodyguards. You swallowed thickly. 

"Look, Y/N," Elena sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but whatever is going on in your life, you can't take it out on me. Or anyone else." 

"That's not what I'm doing," You mumbled, shuffling your feet. She didn't seem to hear you. 

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then you need to tell someone about it," Elena said. You were only a few months younger than her, yet she talked down to you as though you were a toddler. You wished the anger that flared and frothed inside you, didn't look like shame as it stained your cheeks. "I know we're not close, but you can always tell me if something's happening, okay?"

"No thank you, I'm fine." 

"Y/N, it's okay to let someone in." The girl pressed. 

You gritted your teeth, wishing she would just go. "I-"

"Pretty sure she doesn't have to tell you anything, sweetheart," A melodiously snide voice hummed from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Kol a relieved smile. He dropped a quick wink in return before focusing on his fellow seniors. Elena and her posse seemed to tense up around him for some reason. 

"What's it to you, Kol?" Stefan demanded. 

"Oh, I dunno. Basic human decency? Nothing much," He replied. The dark-haired senior shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked, smug as a bug. 

"How 'bout you mind your own damn business for a change," Matt snapped. He almost made a move toward your friend but Elena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Kol snorted at their reactions. "Why so defensive? 'Weren't expecting this lovely young lady to have some back-up?" He slung an arm around your shoulder and began twisting a lock of your hair around and around his finger. You sort of liked him tugging on it the way he did.

"We were just a little concerned," Elena claimed.

"Right." Kol smiled thinly. Releasing his fingers from your hair, he took a threatening step forward. You hadn't realized before just how tall that boy was. "Well, as Y/N said, she doesn't need your concern. So why don't you run along and take your puppets with you." 

The three seniors reluctantly surrendered under the force of Kol's steely glare and you watched them go, hugging your arms around yourself and shivering. Kol turned back to you. His hands found their way to your shoulders and he stopped down a little to look you in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked. His eyes were still dark, but not the pits of tar they'd been before. They were more like soft dirt now, holding the promise of future life. 

Kol gently smoothed his hands over your arms, spreading a gooey, molten warmth everywhere his skin touched. There was something bubbly in your lungs and the shudder that ran down your spine this time wasn't from nerves. 

You took a breath and tried to ignore how his touch made you want to melt.

"I'm fine," You lied. You were fine. You were always fine.

The boy smiled as though he didn't quite believe you. "That's good." He tilted his head in the direction Elena and the others had disappeared to. "You were right about them, though. There's definitely something strange going on there."

You nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course, darling.")

Bonnie Bennett, by the grace of your overactive imagination, had been transformed into a wicked witch. Ancient runes glowed in the air, surrounding her dark ritual. Oddly enough, the thief had changed a few of them, though you weren't sure why.  

("If I might ask, why a witch for that one?" Kol asked as the girl herself scowled venomously at you from the other side of the gym.

He sat with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, leaning in close so you would hear him though he spoke softly, having stayed a little longer after school to help you with your chemistry homework now that no one else would. You could smell cinnamon and something tangy on his breath as his lips brushed over your ear and you tried not to shiver. The whole school probably thought you were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. 

"There's some weird looking stuff in that girl's locker," You whispered back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the daggers she was glaring at your head. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "At the fundraiser we had last year, there was this car that just caught fire outta nowhere. The thing wasn't even running and it just exploded. Everybody was freaking out and running but Bonnie just stood there, staring at it like she was possessed."

Kol glanced up at the Bennett girl again. "You know what?" He decided, tilting his head. "I can see it." He sent Bonnie a little wave and turned back to your homework. "I loved the runes you included in that drawing, though," The boy added. 

"Yeah?" You couldn't help but smile.

"Absolutely. Most of them were even correct," He shot you a crooked grin. "It was impressive."

You raised a brow. "Can you… read Runic?"

"Mmhm," He hummed, checking off another problem on your homework. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime."

You were about to ask where and when he would have learned something like that, but the question was plucked from your brain before you got the chance.

You drew in a sharp breath as his hand, which had previously rested like a ghost's on your hip, slipped deftly under your shirt. Unsure whether you liked it or not, you couldn't decide as your brain had simply quit functioning properly. All you could seem to register was that Kol was touching you and it wasn't a "just friends" sort of touch. Your cheeks felt like they'd caught fire as you glanced up at him, blinking owlishly, only to find that he was already watching you with an unexpectedly sweet smile. He studied your expression, waiting for you to protest - to say no. 

When you remained silent, that sweet smile twisted into a smirk. Leaning down, you felt a soft, tender kiss to your cheek just as Kol pressed his fingers firmly into your skin, wasting no time before he began to explore. His hand was warm, gentle, and soft as he stroked and petted your stomach. Something warm and jittery built up in your chest. It climbed up your throat, threatening to spill out. You whimpered quietly, unable to hold it back. Yet, that only seemed to encourage him. Kol hummed and slid his hand lower with another kiss to your cheek. What was that boy doing to you? Your whole body burned as he continued to fondle and caress you shamelessly. Shuddering, you bit back a moan and curled yourself closer to him, fisting his jacket as though he could hide you from the world. Kol just smirked and continued going over your homework. 

He didn't let go of you - didn't stop touching you - until the bell rang. Then he just got up, shot you a wink, and left without another word.)

Slowly, that boy earned your trust because, though you didn't know exactly how to define your relationship with him, he was always there for you. It was nice to have someone who knew why you had drawn those pictures. Not because you were self-righteous and judgemental, but because there was something very real and very disturbing going on and you needed a way to purge the constant fear from your mind.

Kol believed you. There was something wrong with this town. You weren't crazy.

But no one else could see that. 

The day a sketch of Sheriff Forbes - Caroline's mother - made its way around the student body was the day you were called to the principal's office. The picture displayed Sheriff Forbes as a creature like the Other Mother from Coraline, dutifully sewing shut the mouths of townspeople and stitching buttons over their eyes. The Sheriff was a kind woman. She didn't deserve to be depicted that way. But at the same time, you knew she was hiding something.

So there you sat on the wrong side of the principal's desk, eyes locked firmly on your lap as the graying woman watched you with a disappointed frown.

"Y/N, this is not acceptable," She said, tight-lipped with tired eyes.

"I know," You mumbled.

"Then why did you draw these pictures in the first place?" The woman demanded. 

You shrugged haplessly. She wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. She'd probably recommend you to a mental health institution. 

The principal sighed. "Y/N, it's not my business what you do in your free time, but this has to stop. You need to stop."

"It's not me!" You protested. "Someone stole my sketchbook."

"Well, then you had better find a way to get it back, and once you do I highly recommend you burn it. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to suspend you," She said, folding her hands atop the desk. "The mayor has also been made aware of these sketches and she asked me to warn you that, should another one of these offensive images appear, you can consider her commission canceled."

Your heart stuttered and sank. 

You wanted to scream and cry and tell the world it was all so unfair but all that came out of your mouth was, "Okay."

The principal nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N."

That was your cue to leave. 

You exited her office and shut the door behind you, letting go of a long sigh. Kol was sitting outside, waiting for you. He was always there for you. Upon seeing your distraught expression, the boy got up and wound his arms around you, holding you close. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and grinding your teeth as you buried your face in his chest. 

Kol pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you alright?” He asked, just as he always did.

You took a deep breath-

(You were fine. You were always fine.)

-and let out a string of cuss words so foul they’d make a sailor blush.

He hissed in sympathy and hugged you tighter. “I take it that’s a no.”

Kol was a good friend. True, his words sometimes carried a sting to them and some of his touches lingered a little too long to be just friendly. But he was good. The two of you had come a long way since you'd first met him. When he pulled away, he probably should have rested his hands on your waist but Kol grabbed you by your hips instead. His hands were very warm and you found yourself blushing. But if you were being honest, you liked the way he was touching you - the way he had been for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, hesitantly watching your face though you refused to meet his eyes.

"No," You answered. 

Kol offered you a strained smile and tugged you back into that tight hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, gently.

Kol had been such a good friend to you. The least you could do was show him some trust.

"I'd rather show you." 

***

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand which Kol reluctantly lifted off her hip. Then, without another word - because she didn’t talk all that much - she led him off down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along, amused (and two other things he was trying really hard to ignore.)

There was this funny feeling he got when he looked at that girl sometimes, with her chalk and paint-stained clothes, messy hair, and tired eyes. It was warm and pleasant and it reminded him of how he felt after a really big feed, except not like that at all. He felt satisfied, content… full, but there was nothing sinister about it. Kol found himself unsure how to label that sensation seeing has he’d so rarely felt it and when he had it was fleeting - gone before he could enjoy it. 

This time, however, when it came, that feeling lingered.

And not because he’d killed anyone recently! Kol Mikaelson had not rubbed out a single soul in that miserable little town. (A surprise to all, certainly.) That odd feeling stayed with him day to day, and he tried to ignore how pleasant it was because surly it would disappear any day now… But it never did. Kol knew it had something to do with his little artist but, honestly, that just confused him further. More baffling still was the notion that, over the past few weeks, he hadn’t found himself craving the high that exacting death always afforded him. Sure, he felt a little… hungry (that didn’t seem like the right term) on the weekends, but then he’d see her in the hallways and he felt content again. It wasn’t the sort of satisfaction he took from any of his games either.

That’s what this whole thing had started as - what it was. (Just that he had to remind himself of that fact was unsettling.) It was just a game. He’d played it hundreds of times before with hundreds of girls like her. It was the game where he came into their lives from out of the blue, stripped away every single thing they cared about - robbed them of their friends, their reputation, their comforts, their dreams - and did that all while making them love him for it. Then, once he got them into his bed, he shattered their illusions right before he killed them.

He was so close to winning this one too. Her friends had all abandoned her, half the town was convinced she was schizophrenic, and her dreams were one little sketchbook page away from being crushed. There was just one problem. 

This time, he didn’t want the game to end.

This time, he felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in his chest (not unlike the point of a dagger) every time she flinched. Every time she switched off her hearing aids, every time she hugged herself and sighed, every time she pursed her lips on the verge of tears - Kol felt something he hadn’t felt in well over nine hundred years. Guilt. Because he was the one spreading that girl’s naughty little pictures through the halls just so she would want him around. 

Kol simply didn’t understand what made her different. She was human. She wasn’t strong or powerful or even witty. The girl was shy, she hardly said a word to anyone but him, and when some kid shouted abuse in her face she just stood there and took it. She was so plain and boring that Kol often found himself wondering why he hadn’t eaten her yet. 

Sometimes though, she surprised him. 

She surprised him when she shoved her way though the front doors in the middle of the school day. Previously, Kol was convinced that girl had never broken a rule in her life.

She surprised him when she cussed like a sailor and didn’t apologize one bit. Was a girl like that even allowed to say those words? Legally?

But most of all, she surprised him when she tugged him along by the hand in the drizzling rain through the backwoods of Virginia, off the hiking trails, and down into a ravine where she only stopped in front of a looming chain-link fence. That fence had a big, red “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

She suprised him when she was always fine. That girl accepted his hugs, his touch, his comfort - but she didn’t need it.

Thus, Kol was well and truly floored when his tiny sweet, delicious little artist dropped his hand and scrambled up and over that fence like a monkey scales a tree. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had absolutely, positively, and without a doubt just broken a law. That couldn’t be right. She was too shy to break the law. This was the same girl that apologized when she broke her bloody pencil.

"You coming or not?" She challenged. And then... Then, she smiled.

The sight of it took Kol's breath away.

That smile. He didn't understand it. Y/N was no witch - he knew that for certain. But somehow there was something magical about that smile.

There were moments - only a handful of them - like the one he was in right then. Those times were so rare but when they occurred, Kol's tiny, sweet, piquant little artist would look back at him, usually over her shoulder, and send him this... this smile. The twist of her lips he'd seen her wear when he'd first met her, the one she passed out to her so-called friends, was a fake he came to realize.

This real one was so much prettier.

Words had so rarely failed him, but there was no language Kol knew that could quite describe just what that smile looked like - what it made him feel or why. That smile of her's was just so real - so deeply heartfelt - that it always made him want to smile back. Her's was never never a silly or obnoxious grin that she gave to him. It was this tiny quirk of her lips that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow a subtle, appetizing pink. Her beauty wasn't like that of the models in those magazines Bekah liked - she wasn't spectacularly eye-catching. That girl's smile didn't light up a room, but it lit a fire in his chest the likes of which he'd never known. It twisted his stomach and Kol felt so hungry every time he got to witness that smile. Except that hunger wasn't the sinister kind he was so familiar with. When she smiled at him, he didn't want to hurt that girl.

He just wanted to pin her against a tree and kiss those beautifully curled lips until the taste of his extraordinary artist was seared into his infallible mind for all eternity.

It wasn't just lust either. It was more than that. Kol didn't want her just because she had a pretty smile. He needed her because that smile only appeared for him - no one else. Kol could make that girl smile and it had nothing to do with his physical appearance. His little artist's smile was reserved just for him simply because he was there to see it. She smiled because he existed and that idea was one he couldn't help but revel in. After all, when was the last time he got something all to himself without having to fight tooth and nail for it?

“Say, love, are we getting close to the bridge?” He wondered. It was the bridge or the falls, but he couldn’t be sure. Y/N didn’t reply. Her lovely, perfect, scrumptious little laugh was all he got in response. After a few more minutes of walking in silence - which he found he liked better than all the other girls he’d ever played with who always felt a need to fill the gap with meaningless prattle - they reached their destination.

So, Kol grinned. That was his real smile too. Only she could bring it out. "Of couse, darling."

He jumped and scaled the fence with the same ease as his quiet companion who took off again as soon as his feet hit the ground. It wasn't long before his enhanced hearing caught the sound of water rushing nearby.

Once free of the tree line, Kol glimpsed the dreary silhouette of Wickery Bridge breaking through the haze of rain and gloom. His little artist glanced back at him with something wild and ferocious gleaming in her eyes. For a moment, he was taken aback by the sight. But that moment was swiftly overtaken by sheer, lucidious excitement. He returned her smile and she bounded off down toward the water. He followed, enraptured and curious as she came to a stop underneath the bridge. 

“Alright, my sweet, I think I’ve let you go on long enough,” He said upon catching up with her, not that doing so was any struggle. “What’s so important that you brought me all the way out here?” 

The girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she began climbing up the mess of rocks and driftwood that had collected on the banks of the river, making her way up to the crevice where the bridge split from the shoreline. As she did, her hand slipped on one of the rocks and she spat out another string of cuss words that would peel the scales off a snake. Normally, Kol would have been impressed; however, he was a little too busy focusing on the minuscule part of him that didn’t want to rip out her throat. 

She’d cut her hand on those rocks and it wasn’t just a little scrape, like the ones he’d grown accustomed to. This was a long, jagged slit across her palm and her all-too-tempting blood was spilling down her arm in beautiful crimson rivers. 

And terrible, awful, horrid reality came crashing back in on him.

For a while there, Kol had almost forgotten the two of them weren’t the same. Somehow he’d felt full enough - full of something, full of her - for long enough that he’d forgotten he wasn’t who and what he was pretending to be. He’d forgotten about what he was doing and why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing with her. He’d forgotten that he was the predator and she was the prey. 

He was there solely to charm her into surrendering her blood and her body. That was it.

THAT. WAS. IT.

Kol hurt people. That was what he did. He screwed up, and he hurt people, and he laughed about it.

So why did the thought of sinking his teeth into that artist’s pretty little neck seem to tear his lungs to shreds? No - not his lungs - that thing between them. That thing he ignored. That thing he didn’t have. Most people call it a heart.

What was that about? Kol was a monster. He hadn’t felt anything in years, aside from rage, hunger, and the occasional apathy. One thousand years of never giving a damn about the value of human life. And now what? His heart suddenly decided to garner affection for one lonely, miserable, pathetic, perfect, baffling, innocent, gorgeous, plush, soft, disillusioned little artist? Now?

Why now? Why her?

(It had been so long. And he’d had no one.)

She was the only one who ever smiled just for him. The only one who ever trusted him enough to let him see how terrified she truly was. She was scared, so scared all the time that something would spring from the shadows that lurked around every corner to snuff out her soul. She should be, he knew. She was right to be scared. Because Kol was right next to her and he was the only person not in her sketchbook. Sure, she’d never had the chance to put him in there but he’d asked her once what he would look like if she were to draw him like she did everyone else, and his tantalizing little artist had told him she didn’t see Kol that way - that he was her friend. She didn’t know it, and he didn’t want her to know it, but she should be scared of him. 

Kol wanted to kill her - needed to kill her. He craved so desperately to ravish that appetizing girl right where they stood. Bloody hell, she should be terrified! 

Yet, he didn’t want to scare her - didn’t mean to. He was just hungry - that was all. No one was around. No one could stop him. She didn’t need to be afraid. He could make her feel good. She might like it. Kol was just hungry - he didn’t want to hurt her. One taste wouldn’t hurt her so bad, would it? She would forgive him. One bite would be enough and then he’d stop. Except he wouldn’t and Kol knew that. He would drain every last drop of scarlet from her body and he knew she would be the most exhilarating high he’d ever get. But he didn’t have to feel bad about it. He could dump her body in the river and he’d never see her again. 

Oh.

That was it.

He’d never see her again.

No. No, he wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to listen to all of her secrets and wanted that girl to let him touch her for real. No. No, no, no, nonononononononononono.

And all this ran through his head before his artist had even finished cussing. 

Y/N waved her hand in the air, displaying her cut. “God hates me!” She called down to him cheerfully. That sunny demeanor that had once annoyed him so now brought him a laugh.

“That’s on you, darling. Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that you’re trying to achieve, I might be able to assist,” He pointed out, still chuckling to himself. The girl shrugged and reached into the crevice, feeling around for something. “If you get bit by a snake, I’m going to laugh,” Kol mused. She twisted her other hand around and flipped him the bird. After another moment of watching her grope around in a dark hole, his little artist let out an exclamation of success and retrieved her arm which was now attached to a large, black duffle bag. Carefully, she climbed down and tossed the bag on the ground. 

“Ta da!” She grinned at him. It was an odd expression - like her face didn’t quite know how to express her current joy to another being.

Kol raised a brow. “Wow,” He deadpanned. “Color me impressed.” 

Her smile didn’t falter.

“The council just finished renovating this bridge,” She said as though that explained everything.

“And?”

Instead of answering, she simply bent down and unzipped the bag at her feet. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Kol forced himself to turn away from admiring the exquisite view of her cleavage this action presented him. He wanted her, yes. Kol delighted in reducing his little artist into a blushing puddle when he touched her. But if he was going to have that girl, he was going to have her everything. Her smile, her heart, her mind, her body, and her respect. Everything. Not just empty lust.

From out of the bag, Y/N drew a pair of gloves, a mask, and two cans of what Kol now recognized to be spray paint. Then, donning the gloves and mask, she marched down to the concrete trusses of Wickery Bridge and got to work. The giant concrete slabs were practically one perfectly untouched canvas for her to exploit.

Suddenly, all those strange behaviors made a whole lot of sense.

“Bloody hell, the girl’s a vandal!” Kol barked a laugh. "I wondered what it was you were so desperate to keep me away from,” He said, shaking his head. “I had my suspicions but this… was not one of them.”

“Oh really,” His artist scoffed. She started out her mural with layers of red. “And what were those suspicions?”

“Abusive parents was number one,” He listed, stretching out casually on the ground, back against a rock. Not the most uncomfortable position he’d ever held. “Self-harm was number two, and number three was a sordid drug habit.”

“Do I really come off that pathetic?” She wondered blithely. 

“Most of the time, yeah.”  

The girl snorted. “Good for me!”

“That desperate to hide your little crimes, are you?” He chuckled.

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Well, mostly-” She paused to switch colors, going with black now. “-because if Mayor Lockwood ever found out I was the one painting her little town red, I’d lose my commission to paint town square and uh… I like money.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I sense an “and” coming.”

“And,” She continued with a slight laugh. “I might have possibly tagged a few properties worth a lot more than a bridge.” She hesitated. “Or a town… or a castle.”

That last remark was enough to have Kol sitting up straight. “So you were the miscreant who wrote out “Blood Money” on the side of my house!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. It was impressive as no one in his family had heard anyone approach the house that night, yet the message had been there in bright red the next morning. How had she pulled that off?

The girl froze in her painting. “That was your house?”

“Indeed it was.”

“Whoops.”

Kol waved a hand. “Eh. No harm done.” 

“So… not a mafia base then?” 

He wished she was wrong. Kol really wished he wasn’t everything that terrified his precious artist. But he was. And that wouldn’t change.

So he laughed.

“Well, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” He joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. But he could let her think it was. He could pretend he believed that too. He could pretend he was just a normal kid, enjoying the company of a beautiful girl. He could pretend that.

She threw her head back and laughed. 

What a beautiful thing.

“Okay! I’m done talking now!” She announced without providing any segue whatsoever. He liked that about her though, that she was blunt and direct. It amused him. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He protested. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. Just being around that girl was enough to sate his hunger for her. That's what his little game had turned into. 

She shrugged and flipped her hearing aids off, so he supposed that was the end of it. 

“You know, I’m actually a vampire,” He told her. Kol knew she couldn’t hear him and his words fell on deaf ears. He figured he should tell her the truth though. Even if it was only this once. At least then he could say he had. 

“I’ve murdered hundreds of thousands of people - plenty of them for no reason at all. As for you…

“Well, I’ll probably kill you one day. Hell, I almost did just now. I’m not all that great at self-control, you see.” He let go of a bitter laugh and scooped a pebble off the ground, laying back he tossed it over his head and caught it again and again. “But I’m really great at screwing things up!”

“I stole your sketchbook,” He admitted, a little quieter. “It was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but it’s not fun anymore. I-I don’t like to see you hurting. I could stop. That bloody school would never see another picture.” 

He lifted his head, watching her back as she continued painting. 

“But would you still love me if I did?” Kol sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would. You don’t need me.”

This time, when he tossed the rock, he didn’t catch it. The stone flew and landed in the river, lost to the moving water.

“Nobody does.”

He was glad she couldn’t hear him. He could talk to her and she would never know. Blissfully ignorant, he could watch with a lazy smile as she swung her hips and just kept on painting, without a care in the world. His horribly lovely artist sang quietly to herself as the light of the setting sun bounded off the water and carded through her hair, casting an ephemeral glow all around her. He wondered if her quiet verse might be meant for him. He knew that wasn’t the case. For someone so observant and suspicious, she could be quite blind. He doubted she could be in love with him or that she understood how he felt for her. But like with the rest of this bittersweet scene, Kol could pretend. 

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together

Brighter than a lucky penny

When you're near the rain goes, disappears, dear

And I feel so fine

Just to know that you are mine…”

***

Robert Frost had been right, you decided the day your world fell apart. You would have preferred your world had been destroyed in one giant, raging fire. Of course, you didn't get to choose. Your world froze over slowly. The cold strangled your opportunities and relationships one by one until you were left entirely alone.

You stood in front of your locker that day, staring at the final nail in the coffin of your reputation and future. This was how it was to end. In ice. You felt like ice as you stared at that final drawing - cold and despondent. 

That sketch was of Alaric Saltzman, your kindhearted history teacher who believed in infinite chances for a student's grades. He always wore a pained smile - it was a smile for everyone else because he was still hurting but wanted the kids he taught to look forward to the rest of their lives as he no longer did.

You had drawn him differently.

No smile. Just the pain. Pain that had morphed into bitterness and bitterness into hate. He was sitting in his desk chair, facing towards the door - toward the viewer - with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a gun in the other. Smoke rose from the barrel of that gun, and the viewer's perception was tinted red.

You had drawn your history teacher murdering you in cold blood. 

Who does that?

"So…" The silky lilt of Kol's gentle accent tugged you from your thoughts and brought just a little relief. Even if you had nothing, you had Kol. "Do I want to know what inspired this one? Or would I rather sleep tonight?"

You shrugged, apathetic. The weight of the moment yet to sink in.

"I saw a gun in his desk," You answered tonelessly. 

"No shit?"

"Uh, huh." You nodded. "Right next to the colored pencils."

The boy whistled. "I'm regretting some of the things I put in my essay now," He said. 

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "As if you did it."

"Ouch, darling. That hurts." He chuckled lightly and you felt his arms encircle your waist from behind. He tugged you close, resting his head on your shoulder. "You don't know everything about me."

He was trying to joke, for your sake. But nothing could make this better.

"What do I do now?" You asked with a sigh. Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek - light as a feather. For whatever reason, it felt like an apology.

"Well, if I were you," He said. "I'd go out with a bang."

You nodded and shrugged - indifferent. "A bang sounds good."

Kol released you as you slipped your backpack off your shoulders. Eyeing you with a mix of confusion and anticipation, your best friend's eyes flew wide as he watched you wander over to the nearest window, arms reeling back. 

With all your might, you flung your back through the window.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The raucous hallway fell silent and a few dozen pairs of eyes locked on you.

"One of you bastards stole my sketchbook," You told them, not bothering to raise your voice in the slightest. "Is that what you wanted? To see me fall apart?"

No one answered of course as you glanced between stunned expressions.

"Well, I hope you're happy now," You rasped. Shoving a few kids out of your way with the harshness that had been building inside you for months now, you left that school behind you and didn't look back.

The only sound to be heard was Kol's low whistle as the heavy steel doors swung shut. The tears streaming down your face were silent.

You sprinted home through the driving rain, the sky dark and close, almost like a blanket. Perhaps the whole world was crying with you. After all, it always seemed to rain when you were sad.

To your relief, your parents were still at work. You had the comfort of crying in peace. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, slid to the floor… and screamed.

This was your life and it was crumbling in your hands. What else were you supposed to do?

A light knock tapped against the door. So quiet you wouldn't have heard it if the vibrations weren't centered right next to your ear. 

"Y/N?" Kol's voice called from the other side of the wood. You didn't say anything, though your ragged breathing was far from quiet. "Y/N, I know you're in there. I can hear you crying." He laid his hand flat. You could hear that ring he always wore scraping against the wooden surface. "Please let me in?"

You shook your head. "I'm not some charity case," You choked out, throat raw.

"Perhaps to someone else you are," Kol said. He must have been kneeling on your front porch. "But not me. I don't have charity, darling. I'm rather selfish actually."

You huffed a laugh. It was humorless.

"Then why come?"

"Because I'm selfish," He replied. Then quieter. "I don't like to see you cry." His ring tapped against the door a few times. "Darling, please let me in? I want to help."

Your teeth clenched like a vice.

"I don't need you."

For years you'd longed to say those words. Finally, in this haze of fury and anguish, they weren't so hard to speak.

"I know." He sighed. "I know you don't, darling. It's part of why I like you so much."

Well as long as he understood, perhaps it was alright 

You scraped yourself off the floor and opened the door. Kol stood outside, drenched to the bone, same as you. His eyes weren't dead anymore - not the distant black holes they'd once been. No, his eyes were warm chocolate now, melting with something sad. He really did care.

"Come in," You signed, too worn out to speak. 

Kol's brows furrowed. He seemed worried for a moment, though you couldn't guess why. Then he took a tentative step through the door, smiled, and stepped closer, closing the door behind him. 

You watched him take his shoes and coat off through the dim light. Your house was dark. You hadn't bothered with any lights. Once he'd finished, Kol glanced up at you questioningly. You regarded him for a moment. After all, these sorts of situations never seemed to turn out well in the books you'd read and the shows you'd watched. The characters in those stories always seemed to end up doing something they'd regret.

Or maybe they didn't regret it. 

You thought you would though. 

So, contrary to what Kol was likely expecting, you didn't throw yourself into his arms. You just turned and shuffled into the kitchen. You finally switched on some lights. After a moment, he followed you, watching intently. Milling about in science, you collected the supplies required to make the two of you a cup of tea. Your quiet nature combined with your parent's distrust of humanity meant you'd never really had a friend like Kol before - someone you brought to your house and shared food with.

"You hungry?" You asked, waiting for the water to boil. Your hands shook a little, but you didn't feel like speaking. He leaned against the counter opposite you and offered a thin smile you felt you didn't quite understand.

"I'll be okay," He signed back after a moment. He took a deep breath. "I'm more worried about you."

You grimaced involuntarily, eyes shifting to the kettle on the stove. Inside, the pressure would be building until it all rushed out.

"I'm not broken, Kol," You whispered, voice hoarse and thick with more emotion than you'd ever known how to say.

"I know that-" He began, lifting his hands defensively.

"Then why do you look at me like I am?"

Kol's lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. You'd caught onto his ways a long time ago. That boy had been eyeing you like no one you'd ever known since you'd first met him. The only difference was now you were brave enough to call him out on it. So what if he saw you for who you really were? He'd seen enough of it by now. You were sick of hiding anyway.

Kol sighed and pushed off the counter. He made his way toward you with soft eyes and tentative steps until he stood just inches away, boxing you in. You met his dark chocolate eyes and refused to back down even though you knew your cheeks were stained pink. You'd never let anyone this close before.

Pursing his lips, the boy glanced down at the space between you and lifted his hand. He trailed his knuckles hesitantly over your side, then met your eyes again as if to ask permission. You swallowed thickly, but didn't tell him no. With a ghost of a smile, Kol laid his hands on your hips and squeezed firmly. You couldn’t withhold a shudder. His thumbs slipped under your shirt and rubbed your skin softly as he'd done for you a few times before, knowing how much you liked it. His hands seemed to fit perfectly over your hips as though he'd been made to hold you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into his touch, letting go of a sigh. His searing hands felt nice when the whole world felt so cold. You needed him closer. 

Reaching up, you fisted the collar of his shirt rather harshly and dragged him toward you, pressing your whole body against his. He flinched slightly, surprised by your newfound eagerness, but he quickly reciprocated. Kol chuckled softly and you felt his lips graze your temple before he clinched your hips tighter and lifted you to sit atop the counter. Your heart stuttered and raced in your chest and you gasped sharply, drawing back enough to catch the smirk dancing on his lips. Your cheeks reddened further as he urged you to spread your legs so he could stand between them. His arms circled around your back and you hesitated.

So what if he was a senior? So what if you were a couple of months younger than he was? He'd been a good friend to you. 

Shaking your doubts away, you wrapped your legs around him and rested your head on his chest. Kol hummed quietly and pressed another soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

"I know you're not broken, darling," He said. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging a blazing heat into your bones. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is that you really are."

Your hands on his shirt clenched tighter.

"I'm angry,” You admitted. 

“Why?”

His question prompted your lips to twist into a scowl as a hysterical laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Really? You’re asking me why?” You huffed, shaking your head. “How ‘bout why not? I’m sick of it, Kol. All of it. The lies, the expectations - nothing is right in this town and I hate it! I’m seventeen! I should get to feel safe but I see people and they’re dropping like flies. And you’d think I’d at least get the luxury of being terrified, but no! I have to act like nothing is wrong!” You looked up at him, tears returning to sting your eyes. “I tried to. I really did. But it was too much and I couldn’t and I had to put it all somewhere. Now some idiot who thinks they’re funny just up and ruined my whole future. I’ll never get a job here now, not like it matters because mom and dad are shipping me off to some mental institution-”

“What?!” Kol cut your rambling off suddenly. Reeling back, he stared at you with wide eyes. You just shrugged. “Your parents are sending you away over this?” He demanded.

You raised a brow. “Kol, this is kind of a big thing.”

“How?!” He exclaimed. His grip on your hips tightened. He seemed agitated - more than you would expect. “You drew some creepy pictures. So what?! Who cares?!”

“A lot of people care,” You deadpanned. “I drew the likeness of people around me without their consent. That's a big no-no. My parents are worried I’m overstressed, narcissistic, and paranoid. They say I need help.”

“No, that’s not-” He cut himself off this time, teeth grinding. He wouldn’t look at you, just squeezed his eyes shut tight. You waited for him to gather his thoughts. 

“They can’t take you away from me.” 

Finally, he looked up. Smoldering black eyes met your own with a determination that couldn’t possibly have belonged to an eighteen year old boy. It was etherial - hard to capture and even harder to understand. His eyes seemed darker all of a sudden. An odd trick of the light. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” You said quietly. “But unless you’ve got some hard-core magic up your sleeve, it’s not gonna change anything.”

Kol nodded stiffly. “Magic, eh?” His voice was dry - strained almost. He let go of you and took a step back, bracing his hands on the counter. The breaths he drew were long and deep - shaking. His eyes flicked back to yours, blazing with something needy. He cursed. 

“Screw it.”

The boy surged forward and his lips caught yours before you could even blink. His arms wound around you again and held you tight and close. One hand wove itself into your hair, tugging on the strands greedily. You couldn’t seem to focus enough to keep your eyes open, they fluttered closed as Kol pressed closer to you. You weren’t sure what to do or how to react, so you just tentatively kissed him back.

Kol flinched. Actually flinched, like he hadn’t expected his affection to be returned.

He pulled away, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. 

Had you done the right thing? Would you regret this tomorrow? Would he?

“Kol, wha-”

His lips on yours shut your doubts up pretty quickly. 

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” That boy whispered into your mouth. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m going to fix everything, darling. I promise.”

He left you no time to think. He just pressed you closer - as close as he possibly could and you felt warm. Warm and safe and wanted. His fervent kisses grew increasingly heated and desperate by the second. It was like you were in a haze, possessed almost. There was a sweetness and hunger to him that you were entirely unaccustomed to. Holding the back of your head with a gentle hand, Kol was tender and patient yet determined as he licked at the seam of your mouth. You gasped, flinching as you felt his arm around your waist constrict almost painfully. Seizing the opportunity, Kol swiftly deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He wasn’t harsh or forceful about it. You just weren’t sure. A tiny whimper escaped your throat but he just swallowed it eagerly. Did you really want this? Were you ready? 

You felt suffocated, trapped, and unable to breathe. You pulled back, trembling. But Kol wouldn’t let you go. He broke away, shaking his head.

“No, no. Darling, shhhhhh.” He combed your hair back with his fingers. It was comforting. “You’re alright. I’m not doing anything.”

“Kol, please-”

“No, you’re fine. Everything is going to be alright. Just trust me,” He promised. The boy smiled and settled his lips on yours again. You didn’t fight him. All you could seem to do was shudder as he captured your lower lip and bit down. On his shirt, your hands relaxed. It was almost as if he’d drugged you. Something about that was disturbing, yet you clenched your thighs around him nonetheless.

“See?” Kol flashed you a soft grin as he broke away this time, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay, love. This isn’t me hurting you.”

Then what was?

Kol’s hands slid beneath your shirt and they were so warm as he ran them over your waist and higher onto your ribcage. You had half a mind to let him do anything he wanted, but something wasn’t right. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks at terminal velocity. 

On the stovetop, the tea kettle screamed a warning.

Magic was your first clue. That and he’d said he’d fix things. 

What if he already had?

You stilled. All the warmth in his touch faded in an instant and you let go of him. You didn’t cry out or shove him back. You just quit moving.

Kol’s mouth slowed soon enough. He pulled his hands away and stepped back. The boy eyed you for a moment, but you wouldn’t look at him. Then he cursed. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.” Throwing his head back, he scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was a disgusting thing to do. Please forgive me?”

You didn’t. You just drew your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball. The tears came back. Your ribcage shook with your pained breaths. 

“Y/N?” His voice was faint and far away. “Y/N, please look at me?”

You hardly heard the words that left his lips. You were too busy processing his greater sin.

The declaration came out as hardly a whisper. 

“It was you.”

Kol blinked. Then he frowned. 

“Darling… what are you talking about?”

You shook your head. Tears streamed down your face.

“Why?” You seethed. “Why would you do it?!”

He took a step back, seeming hurt. “Sweetheart… I’m sorry but you’re not making any sense.”

You weren’t going to play that game. Wordlessly, you hopped off the counter and strode over to the kitchen doorway. Kol had dropped his backpack there. You tore it open and rummaged around until you found it. A little book covered in black Sharpie. 

“How many high school students do you think know Nordic Runes?” You challenged softly.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Probably quite a few. I suspect it’s a relatively common niche interest.”

You hummed. “Let me rephrase then: How many high school students in Mystic Falls do you think are fluent enough in runic languages to correct it when they see a mistranslation?” You whipped around, displaying your oh-so-precious stolen sketchbook in your hands.

The color drained from Kol’s face.

“Darling… I can explain that,” He tried, voice raw - desperate for you to believe him. You wouldn’t. 

You offered him a smile. That same fake, hateful smile you offered to all the people in this town who lied to you. 

“Leave.”

Kol looked as though he’d been shot. 

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

You shook your head. 

“I won’t say it twice,” You spat. Then, switching off your hearing aids, you turned away and started for the stairs. “You know where the door is,” You called over your shoulder, half growling the words. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out… bastard.”

Upstairs in your room, you locked the door and cried. This time you didn’t make a sound.

***

Kol had screwed up. Royally. 

In fact, he was convinced that this was even worse than that time he’d accidentally played god on the continent now known as Australia. (Mammals shouldn’t lay eggs and none would if not for his hubris and an escaped lab rat. Or in this case, a lab platypus.) However, this time, Kol couldn’t just run away. Of course, there was mother dearest’s spell to consider but, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him from leaving that girl and her stupid precious tears behind. For whatever reason, he couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew this for a fact because he’d had all night to think about it.

Her face, sparkling with fresh tears, was an image burned into his memory. Kol couldn’t seem to forget the tremble in her voice as she’d pulled that bloody sketchbook out of his bag. He could still hear her crying on the other side of her bedroom door. No matter how long he’d begged her to let him in, that door had remained locked. 

This wasn’t how things were meant to go - not when he’d been so close. He couldn’t stand it. 

She’d almost been his. Kol had finally held his sweet little artist in his arms and nothing, nothing - no drug nor blood-induced high he’d ever experienced - could ever compare to finally getting to touch her. He could have had more. He could have won his prize - could have kept her forever.

But he’d screwed up. Now, she loathed him.

He could stand losing a game every now and again. That was what kept things fun. But this wasn’t a game anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t lose. Kol refused to lose.

Luckily, his delicious little artist was very, very human. 

He would go to her one more time, he resolved, to try to explain things. Truthfully, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done, but that couldn’t change the facts. Kol needed her. He wouldn’t give her up just because he’d been dumb enough to let her snatch that sketchbook from his satchel. It wasn’t her fault. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. But luckily, his steel-spined artist was human. Luckily, Kol could erase his little mistake. 

Perhaps he could grab a quick bite from her too before he wiped her memory. A little taste might aid his patience for her - he didn’t fancy slipping up again like he had the night before. If he hurt her without realizing what he was doing, Kol knew he would kill his little artist far too soon.

He’d made his decision. The only thing that gave him pause was the wrinkled sheet of paper Bekah found that morning. 

“Kol?” Her voice rang through their brother’s mansion carrying confusion and worry. “I think you might want to see this…”

He’d been at her side in a split second, snatching the paper from her hands. It was a drawing, and Kol recognized its style of it instantly. Her lines were intimately familiar to him now, even as harsh and erratic as they were in the sketch he held. 

His beloved artist had finally drawn him. 

The twisted image was startlingly and horrifically accurate. Something clenched in his chest at the sight. She’d drawn his countenance pale, his hair was a wild mess and his eyes were black, empty holes. A vicious snarl warped his lips, accompanying razor-sharp fangs that looked all too real. In the picture, he knelt in the driving rain, cradling a limp corpse. His lips were coated in thick, crimson blood. Enamored as he was with his nightmarish likeness, Kol’s eyes were drawn to the most lifeless part of the image. He would have recognized those paint-stained clothes anywhere.

Now, Kol had added little notes to the drawings he’d stolen from his sweet artist’s sketchbook. This time, she had included her own. 

The harsh, hate-filled words read: “Vampire - a creature that feeds off the misery of others.”

At the bottom of the page, his artist had left him one more note.

“I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebekah, peering over his shoulder now, whistled lowly. 

“That’s not Nik’s work,” She noted.

“No.” His voice came out sharp, clipped. “No, its not.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Kol shrugged and tucked the drawing in his pocket. “No one important,” He lied. 

Shortly after that, he arrived beneath the trusses of Wickery Bridge. He knew where that girl would be - knew his artist couldn’t leave a piece unfinished. If she noticed him coming from a far ways off, she gave no inclination. Kol, however, noticed quite a few things. The tremor in her hands as she moved a can of paint back and forth in front of her. A used sleeping bag laid out among the rocks. A banana peel displaying the only proof she’d eaten any sort of meager breakfast. He noticed. He always noticed. 

His feet crunched on the gravel as he approached but he doubted the girl heard it - more than likely she had her hearing aids powered off. He could see the appeal in it. After all, it got quite loud in his head sometimes. Turning off the sounds of the world might be nice, but such was not his curse. 

Kol wound his arms around her waist from behind and leaned down. Her skin was so smooth and perfect, it was hard to resist simply biting down and taking her all to himself, but instead of piercing her throat he opted to kiss her a few times, gently. He knew how she would react by now. Y/N wouldn’t fight or squirm, she wouldn’t even scream. 

She just relaxed. 

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. 

A spitfire when angered, she could be quite impressive; however, when confronted she would always resort to that last option.

He could scent her fresh tears as they slipped down her face, while in his arms her body shuddered, though not quite the way he would prefer. Only one word could seem to manifest through her pain. 

"Why?" She didn't say it out loud, just signed it. Kol held her tighter, shrugging.

"Because I'm an attention whore," He answered simply. It was the truth too. "And I don't know when to stop."

He would always need that artist more than she needed him. From the first moment he'd met her, that was how their story had gone.

If it was even possible, that girl melted further into his embrace. Her head rested against his collarbone and she sighed.

"So you think I'm crazy too, huh?" She smiled and it was a miserable thing.

"I never thought you were crazy, love," He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just didn't care for a while at first."

"What changed?" She wondered, brows furrowing.

"You smiled at me."

The girl barked a laugh. "Oh, well that's nice." She rolled her eyes.

Kol pulled her closer to him, as though he could make her feel the emotions he couldn't explain. "Don't believe me?"

"Nope." And she never minced words.

"It does sound rather cliche, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" She scoffed. Her chest still shook with sobs she tried to suppress. He twisted her body around to pull her into a proper hug. Again, she didn't resist. She'd completely given up. 

Kol didn't like this hopeless, hysterical version of the strong, dagger-sharp artist he'd come to adore. He'd seen this sort of apathy before and typically it bored him. In her, it only seemed to hurt. It impressed him to hold her close until she finally understood that he was bloody sorry!

"Can you ever forgive me?" Kol found himself asking. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember another time he'd wondered such a thing. 

Y/N snorted humorlessly. 

"Maybe in a million years," She replied sourly. "Or maybe when the nut-house straightens me out - whichever comes last."

Those words stung like poison. It had been so, so long since he'd made a mistake he couldn't fix with a snap of his fingers. Accountability was a nasty, uncomfortable thing. 

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Kol that he could always compel his pretty little artist. But… he'd rather hoped her affection for him might be real. He didn't want to ruin that just yet.

Kol groaned quietly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, fixing his lips over that girl's pulse again. The effect was somewhat calming despite making his fangs ache like nothing else. 

"I care about you, darling," He mumbled into her skin. 

"And I trusted you."

He understood. That girl didn't trust anyone. Now he was just another reason why.

A police siren flared to life in the distance, drawing closer. The artist in his arms chuckled dryly.

"Sounds like my ride's here," She observed, void of all life or emotion. The wheels of a police cruiser pulled to a stop not far off. She'd be caught in the act and Kol happened to know the police force had been set on vervain. 

"I won't let them take you," He swore, tightening his grip on his little artist. A car door slammed shut. Footsteps began approaching.

"And what are you gonna-"

Kol picked her up and ran. Consequences be damned. That girl was his. 

He stopped on the pretentious front porch of his brother's mansion and allowed her to absorb her new surroundings. She trembled in his arms, eyes round as saucers as she glanced around.

Her eyes met his and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Kol?" Her voice was thick with dread. "What… just-"

"You're okay," He assured her in lieu of an answer. He spoke calmingly, but she wouldn’t allow him to step any nearer. "You're safe now."

"No." Her voice was bold and firm. She held out a hand, increasing the space between them. “Tha-that wasn’t right. We-we-we were, uh… We were there… a-and now we’re here. What happened? Tell me. Tell me what you did!”

“Relax darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” He lied. The boy smiled disarmingly, voice a honeyed guise - it had worked before, back before she’d trusted him. “It’s just me.”

“No… No, y-you’re not-” She bit her lip and retreated further, blinking rapidly. 

He took another step closer, shushing her disoriented protests. “You’re alright, love. It’s. Just. Me.”

“NO!” The girl cried out with a tone forged from steel, but Kol watched as her resolve warped and cracked. He could see it rise to the surface - that all-consuming fear in his delectable little artist that he so relished and despised. “No… Kol, stop. Please.” Her sweet melody of a voice came out as a hoarse whisper now. “Y-you were my friend, and… I-I still want you, I do. But you need to stop. You’re not supposed to be like everyone else. Stop lying.”

Kol sighed heavily. His artist had been betrayed, time and time again. He couldn’t be like the rest of this godforsaken town - not if he wanted her. Yet… If he told her the truth - if he revealed himself to be everything that terrified her so - how would she possibly stand his presence?

“Do you truly wish to know?” He asked, unable to meet her gorgeous, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I have to,” She whispered, almost to herself. “I’m not crazy. I-I didn't just imagine that!"

“You’re right.” He nodded and offered her a slight, halfhearted smirk. "You see too much for your own good, sweet thing. But please remember, you asked to be shown this part."

Kol thought about her - about his gorgeous, perfect artist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent. He focused on her heartbeat - wet and strong - let it lull him. He pictured that adorable, appetizing blush that always spread across her cheeks when he touched her. Kol allowed himself to imagine just how sweet, how lush, how devastatingly succulent that girl would taste just beneath her soft, warm human skin.

Then, welcoming that corrupt temptation, surrendering to it, he opened his eyes. 

His little artist screamed.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @dreamingwithrafe @her-violent-delights @witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe @acixsracix Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Hunter seeing his little wife wearing the pretty lingeries he gifted her. He can hardly hold himself when he went home and saw his little wife in the sexy lingerie he likes~

"Darling, you're wearing the lingerie I gave you?" Hunter asks, putting down his work bag.

"Yeah, all my other clothes seem to have disappeared," You reply, trying to cover yourself up.

Your clothes were hidden in Hunter's closet. Heath and Henry broke in while you were showering and hid everything away. They learned you were on a sex strike to protest Hunter, making you miss the latest sequel release to your favorite book.

"Well, would you like to wear mine?" Hunter suggests, unbuttoning his shirt. "You know, you look beautiful in that red lace."

"No."

"Please."

"Absolutely not."

"I'm your husband!"

"And I got married to a weirdo jock at 18 in my first year of college!"

The room goes silent, and you turn over in the bed. You pull the covers over your body, hiding yourself from him. The bed creaks as Hunter climbs onto it and wraps his around your waist.

"Leave me alone!" You yell, tossing a pillow at him.

"Y/N, I know our marriage isn't the best, but could we please get along. If not for us, then for our little angel in the next room. Nobody wants to see their parents fighting," Hunter says, rubbing your back.

You hated it. You hated that word. Angel. It's what got you into this mess in the first place. If Heath and Henry hadn't seen you at the Halloween festival, perhaps you would've had a different life? Maybe you'd be with someone else? Someone kind, like Charles.

"Don't call her angel, please."

"Sorry. If it makes you feel better, they told me about the Halloween festival performance a month after we started dating. I never knew you were in it until then."

You turn to your husband and kiss him. His hands go to your head and rub your hair.

"You're the best wife a man could ask for," Hunter compliments, wrapping his legs around your waist. "God, you're so hot in that lingerie!"

"Why don't you take it off then?"

Hunter blinks, and then he laughs. Before you even realize it, he's removed your bottoms and stuck his index finger inside you. You bury your face in his chest, too embarrassed by the feeling of lust you've felt since dating Hunter.

"Oh, come on, baby~ You've had sex with me plenty of times since high school. You even gave birth to a whole baby, and you still can't have a single digit in you," Hunter teases, fingering you faster.

You moan with pleasure into his chest and gently ride his finger.

"You know, our sweet daughter said she wanted a sister. I promised her I'd give her one. Maybe I should knock out two birds with one stone and fuck so much your womb just accepts my sperm?"

"Well, I did want another child to keep me company for when I'm home and not working."

"In that case, I have no choice but to oblige."

Hunter unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. You put it inside of you and ride him. He grabs your hips and helps you bounce your ass on his cock.

"You feel so good!" You moan, your breasts clacking together.

"I know! That's why you stayed with me!" Hunter replies, speeding up the pace of your riding.

Before you could finish, he suddenly thrusts in you three times and paints your pussy white. Your back arches in pleasure, and you fall onto Hunter.

"You did good, darling," Hunter compliments, rubbing your back.

"Thank you," You say, relaxing at the sound of his heartbeat.

The baby monitor on the nightstand clicks to life.

"WAAAAHHH!" Your baby girl cries, giving Hunter and You a reason to get changed.

"I'll get our clothes," Hunter says, pulling out of you and getting out of bed.

"I'll clean up really quick," You reply, getting up and walking to the bathroom.

[strunmah-mah]

[Video transcript

Text box: Make Condiment King Scary; There’s your challenge.

Red Text: TW: Discussion of Murder

The Panda Redd: OK

The screen flashes and Panda is now dressed as Condiment king

Condiment King: You know, I always hated that name. The one that the press gave me. Condiment King. So patronizing. Like I’m trying to make some grand standing of what I do, I’m not. I’m not. Wanna know how I got that name? It’s a funny story actually. See a life time ago I was just another, another goon, another grunt on the street working for Falcone. And, uh, One day I found myself at this restaurant, some, some racket Falcone’s been running and the uh, the owner decided not to pay. So I was sent to, uh, relieve him of his station. Guy finishes up his meal, I follow him into the back, stick a gun in his face. “Hands up Fucker, Flacone sends his regards.” The bastard kicks it out of my fucking hand. So the part that nobody decided to fucking mention to me was the guy was a goddamn black belt in karate. who starts throwing me around. He slams me into the fucking walls. I’m getting stains from all the shit falling off of him all over by brand new sky blue suit that I’m wearing for this fucking occasion. That is, until I see the stove. I see they’re cooking up a special brew of uh, extra hot sauce on there. You know, that it only takes three pounds of ground up chilies, consumed in one sitting to kill a man, purely from the capsaicin. Well I’ll tell you what. He figured out what it’s like to inhale that shit. I grabbed his head and I just, I just fucking held it under, I held him there, until the fucking bubbles stopped coming up. And that was it, I thought. But you see a man kills a someone with a bowl of hot sauce, in a suit soaked in condiments, and well. Everyone in Gotham’s got a gimmick. See my problem isn’t with the name it’s self. It’s with the insult that is implied. People think that what I do is silly. But I’m going to ask you something. If the ketchup on your burger was too tangy would you stop eating it? Or, or if your hot sauce wings tingled your throat in a way you didn’t expect, would you all of a sudden stop? The thing is, apart from taking a shit, eating is when people are their most vulnerable. I ask you, do you know what poison tastes like? Are you sure?

Condiment King laughs and the video ends.]

Imma bee real honest here. My ideal sequel to The Batman would be Battinson vs. this very specific version of Condiment King. If The Panda Redd didn’t play him I wouldn’t watch it.

[somethingboutafic]

Favorites (under 100k)

14/09/2019 by MediaWhore (G) word count: 3,925 In mid-September Harry comes home. A Tired Tired Sea Coda

It's My Pleasure To Introduce You by LoadedGunn (E) word count: 8,284 The AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

It's Thursday, Let's Get (un)Dressed by bananaheathen (E) word count: 9,117 When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @ harrystyles.

Keep Driving by dead_tobeginwith (M) word count: 11,726 Louis works as a driver contracted through the local cancer institute. All of his clients are associated with the hospital—mostly patients and their families heading home. One rainy afternoon, he picks up Harry.

Talk Dirty To Me by BriaMaria (E) word count: 13,112 The one where Harry is absolutely terrible at dirty talk so he asks his best friend to teach him. And the one where Louis knows it's a catastrophically bad idea but agrees anyway.

Meet Me In The Hallway by bananaheathen (E) word count: 15,846 The sequel where we find out what happens in the New Year after Harry and Louis' one-night stand in It's Thursday.

To Be the Friction in Your Jeans by orphan_account (E) word count: 19,541 Harry is an exhibitionist. He gets up to shenanigans. This is a fill for this prompt at the kink meme: Harry really, really likes to be watched. When they're all lounging around watching TV he'll start kissing Louis and he'll take it as far as he can until Louis makes him stop because the other boys are in the room or drags him away to finish in private. He'll do it wherever - at home, on the bus, in the car, backstage in the dressing room. The boys maybe kind of secretly wish Louis would stop stopping Harry, and maybe one night when they're drunk he does. Except. It got really, really out of control.

Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get An Alpha by InsightfulInsomniac (E) word count: 19,965 When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep? It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine. Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by fairytalefemme (E) word count: 25,896 In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

heroes of the orange skies by queenmcgonagall (NR) word count: 30,656 Louis likes bathroom walls and Sharpies, Harry likes metal, Zayn likes Liam and Liam likes Zayn, Niall is wise, and they all go to the zoo.

Listen To Your Heart by lovelarry10 (E) word count: 35,019 Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go. Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

Bug Boy by FitzAndLarry (M) word count: 36,630 Or the one where Harry is obsessed with bugs and Louis can't wait for them to be Alphas together.

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by 2tiedships2 (M) word count: 38,065 The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee (M) word count: 38,825 His mum is going to kill him! Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something. She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha. But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater. Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to. He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight (E) word count: 40,695 There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ. The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.  His name is Louis Tomlinson. 

Home calls the heart by Itsmotivatingcara (M) word count: 44,091 A series of unfortunate events lands Louis Tomlinson in the heart of Texas. After running from his life in London and a performative marriage, he leaves a scandal in his wake. Home calls the heart, as his Nana always said. Though her words couldn't be truer when he decides to take up her offer to watch over Hyacinth ranch while she travels abroad. He figured the worst he'd have to deal with would be the meddlesome goats, some repairs and an errant spirit or two. That is, until the gorgeous Cowboy next door makes his presence known. or a romcom au.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (M) word count: 46,173 Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

Core 'ngrato by Velvetoscar (NR) word count: 49,626 It's been over a year since Louis broke up with Harry and Harry still believes in forever. And maybe the world does, too.

every universe but ours by 28finelines (E) word count: 49,843 louis and harry have been friends with benefits for going on nine years, until a woman claiming to be louis’ fairy godmother decides to send him into a variety of alternate universes to help him find his soulmate.

Homegrown by casuallyhl (E) word count: 51,406 A gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.

with blood and soft stitches by bravestyles (NR) word count: 57,714 After a failed suicide attempt and a three month long coma, Harry wakes up.

Little by Little by nonsensedarling (E) word count: 65,589 Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes. Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

sleeping on our problems by falsegoodnight (E) word count: 67,429 Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis(domesticharry) (E) word count: 79,028 The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Atlas At Last by louisandthealien (M) word count: 83,037 Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall. It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

we are ghosts amongst these hills by orphan_account (M) word count: 84,172 Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

knock knock, i love you by beautlouis (E) word count: 86,066 Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.

Home For The Holiday by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 86,791 A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

Switch Out The Batteries by istajmaal, LoadedGunn (E) word count: 88,302 Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.

Stranger Than Larry Fiction by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 90,736 A canon-divergent AU where Louis and Harry read Larry Stylinson fanfiction.

You've Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey (E) word count: 95,417 Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

Red Brick Heart by hazmesentir (E) word count: 98,194 Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn't expect is a surprise roommate who's loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he's ever wanted.

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

Why God Is No Longer Narrator, The Ineffable Plan, and A Sequel Draft

Half meta, half prediction, half fanfic, half prose. All to say...

TL;DR - Good Omens is the Ineffable Plan

As in, I was thinking about s2, and how God is not the narrator anymore. She was there for s1, but besides asking Aziraphale about the sword, She never directly affects the plot. She plays a game of her own, but never says what it is, and Aziraphale and Crowley point it out.

So now you have s2, and God is silent. We hear her, but only from far away, from Aziraphale and Crowley's pov, and nothing else. At least in s1, despite never explaining what Her plan is, we had Her to guide us, to take peeks into the characters minds and thought processes

But that's the thing, isn't it? We can only watch as the characters go through the story, no longer having a narrator because there wasn't supposed to be anymore story. It was supposed to be the apocalypse, but now there isnt. Its no longer the last day of the rest of their lives, and while there is an epilogue, that was it. Now, everyone is left on their own so to speak, to make their own way without an omnipresent God playing out their lives for us.

They are almost free, in a sense. At least, free from us.

I think that for s3, we will continue to have no God as narrator... up until its all settled. And God will reveal herself, completely, to Aziraphale and Crowley and to all the Angels and Demons, because now the story has reached where it was supposed to be

Aziraphale and Crowley were right about how technically, nobody knows the Ineffable Plan, and thus questioning if the apocalypse is apart of this Ineffable Plan

And God confirms they were right. Well, sort of. In that, that is The Plan. What they did, stopping the apocalypse, was The Plan. What the other characters did was The Plan. She has been there, narrating it all, and enjoyed leaving footnotes.

It's all ineffable for these beings, considering how despite them being, as God describes, characters - they were their own beings that were made to make their own choices, and so it's not for her to guide them. Just to simply point out what they are doing

It's all a lot, She knows, for these Angels and Demons to understand, but it's all to say that she hasn't been here as usual because there wasn't supposed to be anything else. Well, there was. But circumstances allowed it to happen where the story was stalled; there was a Beginning and an End for this portion, but the middle and how we got to this point was muddy. And now it had to be told in a new way, a bit untraditionally, sadly without the footnotes. Thus, God didn't have anything much to say.

It didn't matter though, because they were always supposed to finish their story, even if She wasn't there for the rest. But now, She is here, because everything is going how it was supposed to.

Everyone listens. Crowley asks, "Why?"

God answers simply, holding a wide-brim black hat, "Love."

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 28: Goodbye

SWTOR

Time: Sequel to Amber (Day 5)

Words:  ~1200

A/N:  This verges on crack fic.  I just wanted to finish up Fluffy February with a laugh. 

~~

The search for Ramesses had started.  Koth had easily been convinced to assist Arcann, and Talos found him to be an agreeable fellow (though perhaps still disturbingly enamored with ‘the good old days’ of Valkorion ruling Zakuul).  

Their first scheduled investigation was to take them off-world via shuttle, then they’d travel to Begeren, to see if the nominal lord was still there, known to the public or not. People would say their lord was dead, only to find he was leading the resistance on the planet or another nearby world.  

Increasingly, as he accompanied Arcann and Koth, Talos was sure of several things regarding Arcann. First, the man was more a boy in many ways.  He and his brother had barely been 20 when they started their sackings of worlds. Until Voss, Arcann had been heavily influenced, if not utterly corrupted by the Dark Side; at 25, he did not know his own mind without its presence.  

Secondly, Arcann had been isolated.  Anyone and anything outside of his elite social milieu was foreign to him and also absolutely fascinating at the same time.

Talos’s two observations and surrounding hypotheses were proven in practice when they came across an unexpected obstacle, something that had to be overcome lest the mission be derailed and delayed: ordering at a fly-through burger joint on Dromund Kaas.

“Alright,” said Koth, as he shifted the speeder into park to wait.  “Get whatever you want, but let it be said, I’m keeping the viewports open if you get anything stinky.”

Talos had his standard order; it hadn’t strayed much since his days at university, minus when a special flavored shake was on the menu.

Minutes passed.

Arcann, in the backseat, finally asked, right before they pulled up to the order speaker, “…what do they serve at this establishment?”

“Fast food,” Koth answered, as if that was explanatory within itself.

“…it is prepared quickly?”

“Yes….” Talos replied slowly, looking over at Koth, quizzically.

“…what is prepared quickly?”

Both Koth and Talos turned around in their seats to look at Arcann.

He looked back at them, the question still standing.

“…You haven’t done this before.  You haven’t gotten food at a fly through?!” Koth half-asked, half-exclaimed.

Arcann shifted uncomfortably in the backseat. “…no.  Do they have a menu?”

Talos flew into action immediately.  “Let me get my datapad.  They post these things on the Holonet these days, right?”  

Talos started rifling through his duty bag, which had been sitting right at his feet in the front of the speeder.

Someone honked behind them, even as Koth was still staring incredulously at Arcann.  The noise snapped him out of it.  “Alright alright alright, already, I’m moving!”  He turned around and shifted the speeder into gear again. Before the tinny speaker could even start its spiel, Koth said to it, “We’re gonna need a minute.”

Koth checked on Talos, who was trying to get his datapad to turn on.  “I know I charged it.  Why’s it taking so long to come out of hibernation?”  

“Hey, don’t press that too often or –”

The datapad rebooted.

“I hope you weren’t working on anything.”  Koth turned back to look at Arcann again.  He was sitting in the backseat, hands politely folded.  “Ok, your typical options are burgers or --  hey, are the chicken things fried or baked these days?”

Talos made a face. “I don’t know – was it this chain that went on the health campaign a few years ago?” He drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited for the datapad to finish updating.

“Whatever.” Koth went back to trying to explain this whole thing to Arcann. “Ok, so beef or chicken?”

Arcann tilted his head, considering the question.  “Do they have anything else?”

“Uhhh…. Do they have fish this time of year?” Koth asked Talos.

“Maybe?”

“Or do they have that fake sparerib thing that nobody knows what it’s made of?”

“Oh, don’t order him that. Keep it simple, Koth.”

“Right.”  Koth returned his attention to Arcann.  “Beef or chicken?”

“…where’s the beef from?”

Koth winced.  “You’re better off not knowing.”

“How can I make a culinary decision without –”

“Dude, it’s fast food. You shove it in your mouth, it lights your brain up like a fireworks display, and it clogs your arteries,” Koth rushed through the explanation.  

Arcann wrinkled his nose, put off by the description.  “Can we go somewhere else?”

“No!” Koth and Talos said in unison.  More honking from behind them.  

“I have the menu!” Talos finally proclaimed.  

“A little late!”  Koth said.  “Order a number three for me, extra crispy.  Get whatever the hell you want.  Koth turned back around and leaned over the central divider.  “Arcann, focus.  Beef or chicken?”

Talos cleared his throat. “Hello?”

“Can’t hear ya, be louder or lean into the speaker.”

Talos unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over Koth’s back.  “Sorry—”

“Just order. Arcann---?”

“What do they have for sides?  Beverages? Do they have a wine list?”

“What does that --?!”

“It will affect my decision as to beef or chicken, depending upon the accompanying—”

Talos cleared throat loudly and tried again, increasing his volume. “I would like a number three, extra crispy, a number seven with the special pink shake substituted for the soda, and – ” Talos looked between back at Arcann and Koth.

“Beef or chicken, dude?”

“Which comes with sauce?” Arcann gestured at his white clothes.

“Whatever sauce you want to dip your fries in –”

“Are there other options to have the potato prepared?”

Koth turned to look at Talos and got a mouthful of his jacket.  “Uh, is it this place that has the baked potatoes or --?”

Talos yelled out the last of the order.  “AND A MERRY MEAL WITH A TOY.  AND A STRAW.”

“Toy for over-three or under-three?”

“OVER THREE.”

“Boy or girl?”

Talos looked witheringly at the speaker.  “SURPRISE US.”

“Please pull up to the next viewport.”

More honking ensued from behind them as Koth and Talos untangled themselves and got to their respective sides of the speeder.

As Koth paid for the order, Talos looked in the review mirror at Arcann….

Who was gawping at the girl handling the cash register.  “She’s decorated herself with ritualistic markings, facial piercings, and …pink hair?” He paused to marvel at this.  “Fascinating.”

The girl noticed him. “Hey. Your buddy’s kinda cute,” she said as she passed out the food to Koth.  “Lemme get your change and his holo –”

“KEEP THE CHANGE.” Koth was already shifting gears and preparing to floor it.

Arcann managed to figure out how to roll down his viewport, despite the child safety locks.  “GOODBYE!  IT WAS NICE TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE!”  he yelled back as the speeder lurched away.

~~

@fluffyfebruary @ermingarden @starlightcleric @ayresis @bluephoenix1347

[ashes-writing]

starved || csi miami ; r.wolfe

Authors Note: So chaos - the piece I posted for Ryan Wolfe yesterday, that definitely inspired this. I kind of got the idea for it while writing chaos, actually, it's weird how my brain works. Since the initial brain child for this belonged to @justmeandanoverdrive I wanted to say hi, love you for sending me the initial idea that I answered yesterday (after forever and a fuckin day and I'm sorry for that btw) and further love you because without that, this one wouldn't have written itself.

Warnings: (mild nsfw, minors don't you fucking dare,) hinted at p&v, graphic descriptions (kinda) of bite marks / love bites, hinted at oral (female receiving ftw) and two people in lurrrrve.

Tag List: So ah.. there’s nobody on any of my tag lists. So no tags aside from @justmeandanoverdrive because this is the sequel to something they asked for way back then.

Other Stuff: tag list doc | pinned - the rules and stuff || requests ; open / headcanons only

I do not consent to having my work reposted elsewhere or rewritten/stolen.

If he thought he was shocked the night of their first date... Nothing compared to waking up to sunlight streaming almost violently through the windows making the stark white walls of her apartment almost blinding as his eyes fluttered open. 

It felt surreal. Like a dream. Even though they’d been practically inseparable since the night she took matters into her own hands where they were concerned. Waking up to find himself in her bed should have been starting to feel like a habit by now because it had been for almost a week, but it wasn’t. He was still in awe every single morning when his eyes opened and he found himself there.

This morning she was draped across him, face buried in his neck as she burrowed her nose into the space where his neck met his shoulders and as he lay there as still as he could manage, all he could do was replay the night before.

Over and over.

Until he was straining against the boxers he wore all over again. He swore quietly. She stirred a second or two after, eyes fluttering open. A sleepy yawn. When she raised up a little to look down at him he could see the places his mouth met and latched onto her neck, the little trail of lovebites littering soft skin.                                                                                       

Purpling bruises down the front of her throat because he’d gotten so goddamn carried away he hadn’t been able to control himself and with each deep drive into tight and wet,velvety warmth as it encased his cock deep inside, he’d clamped down on her neck with his teeth. Not hard enough to really break skin but hard enough to leave bruising and one slightly angry shallow red mark.

He winced as he gripped her neck, turning it so that he got a good look at what he’d done. “That doesn’t.. It doesn’t hurt or anything, right?”

She shook her head. Pulled herself off of him and settled into the bed beside him, slipping a leg between his legs as she raised a hand and dragged her finger across his lips while giving him that look. Her soft giggle shattered the silence. “I actually thought it was kinda hot.”

His cheeks heated up and he chuckled. “Oh you did, huh?” he asked as he positioned himself on top of her, pinning her into the mattress. She whimpered, rocking herself up against him as she challenged quietly, “Don’t start something you’re not gonna be able to finish, tiger.”

He lowered his face so that his mouth met hers and mumbled against it, “Oh? Who said I wouldn’t, hm? We both have today off. The whole day, princess.” He emphasized the words and licked his lips. This sent his tongue dragging against soft and bruising swollen lips and when she shivered beneath him, he laughed again quietly, his forehead finding hers. 

Her arms raised, wrapping around his neck and he could feel her finger dragging up and down the top of his spine. Dragging designs against his skin as she lies pinned beneath him, rocking her hips upward into his body. He snickered quietly. “See,” he mumbled against her mouth before allowing his lips to stray and venture down that gentle slope where her neck met her shoulder, kissing over the angry red skin around the faint bite mark he’d made the night before, “When you do this.” he rocked himself right back against her, making her whine in need, “That makes me think you’re the one trying to start something.”

“Maybe I am, Ryan.” she giggled, dragging the digits on one hand through his hair, sending a shiver through him as her nails scraped softly against his scalp. His mouth dipped lower, the warmth of his tongue as it circled her nipple sending a moan up into the quiet settled in the room. He stopped what he was doing to look back up at her, eyes gleaming.

Hungry. So fucking hungry.

“I think I know what I wanna do today.” he murmured as he sucked a second or two before releasing the hold his mouth had onto her nipple and letting his mouth drag down lower, down her abdomen in a line. His body settled between her legs to hold them open. She giggled when he dragged his tongue in a circle around her navel, trying to throw her hand over the area because apparently, she was ticklish.

He glanced up again. Licking his lips as his eyes locked on the way her body was pinned below. He dropped a few distracted kisses against fading love bites and bruises he left behind earlier while he waited on her to answer, to try and guess what he had in mind.

“Hm? What’s that, baby?” she asked quietly, locking eyes with him only to have to break the gaze when his tongue trailed a line from her belly button downward. Her toes began to dig at the sheets and his shoulder and as he raised up one of her legs to position it on his shoulder, he smirked. “I’m starving, princess. So first, “ his lips danced higher up the inside of her leg and he paused again to lock eyes with her, to watch the way her eyes fluttered open and closed and the way her breathing hitched when he started to venture up the insides of her marked up and lightly bitten thighs, “I’m gonna eat.. Then.” he chuckled as he stopped his tongue just shy of the crease that formed her bikini line and paused to look up at her again while biting his lip, “Then I’m going to wreck you, princess.”

[chthonic-cassandra]

You know I gotta use this opportunity and ask all my dear Dracula peeps. So; H, M, V, Y for the ask game, if you'd be so kind 🖤

H: How would you describe your style?

I got asked this question before in a different ask meme and I never know what to say. (If anyone else feels themselves able to describe my style I'd be very interested.) I think I do a lot with variation in sentence rhythm and length in a way that clearly fits within a fanfic idiom but isn't only influenced by that. I think I use imagery and atmospheric detail judiciously, to the point that I tend to give the impression that there is a lot more of it in a given fic than there is. I tend to write physical objects as having a lot of symbolic weight. I feel like there are some very characteristic ways that I narrate internal dialogue or emotional experience, but I am not sure how to describe those.

There are some epithet-like things that I think I do with adjective-noun collocations, and also some ways that I use tense that I think are influenced by studying ancient Greek. I'm getting more requests for this question, so I'll keep thinking about it.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Everything else is on the back burner right now until I finish Compromise.

I have these Xena fics on concubinage themes that I've mentioned before here a few times and that I really want to get to work on, and also a little Vanessa Ives/Hecate Poole (Penny Dreadful) fic set towards the end of S2. Those are the things that I think I'm realistically most likely to work on in the foreseeable future.

There's also a ton I want to experiment with in newer-to-me vampire canons, including a Drusilla and Spike meet Dracula in 19th century London thing that would probably be pretty comedic but I don't know if I care to spend enough time with BtVS to get the voices down. If I had more time and energy there are so many things I would want to write.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh this is a hard question. I've gotten a lot of gifts in fic exchanges over the years that have sparked my own imagination, like @melusineloriginale's Broken Music about Margaret of Anjou and Anne Neville (wow that was a while ago), or Nobody's Angel by tiboribi which is a fascinating exploration of the character of Anna Engel in Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity, who is a character I've always wanted to do something with myself. But I'm not really sure.

Y: A character you want to protect.

My 120 Days girls. Cecile de Volanges. Clarissa Harlowe. (If you're noticing that I have intense emotional reactions to young 18th century women you'd be onto something.) Miriam Lass from NBC Hannibal. Sometimes I have this feeling about the Dracula protagonists, but it's not so intense at this stage in my life.

[no1islost]

Nobody asked, but out of the 20 books I read this year, here are a few:

Most Favorite Book:

The First Sister Trilogy by Linden A Lewis

I’m reading the last book of the trilogy right now, but The First Sister, The Second Rebel, and The Last Hero might be my new favorite book series. A Space Opera. Two factions: Earth & Mars vs Venus & Mercury. Science & Technology vs Spirituality & Tradition. Told from various POVs that are interconnected. Hierarchy, scandal, and government coverups. 10/10 recommend. (This series has good narrators on Audible if you want an audio experience while reading like I sometimes do).

Most Difficult Book:

Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James

This book didn’t list any trigger warnings, but quite literally hit all of them. Not a book for the weak. Extremely brutal, heavy, and hard to digest topics. I so badly wanted to DNF this one, but I’m not a quitter. Very difficult to understand the way it was written, too. Had to listen to the audio book as I read along to help comprehend. But I did appreciate the difficulty and the African lore. Not sure I will read the sequel.

Most Enjoyable Book:

They Never Learn by Layne Fargo

I mean, who doesn’t love a woman professor who secretly murders male students that get away with SA with their classmates? The twist was good and I honestly didn’t make the connection until it slapped me in the face. Also wlw representation. Really highlights the fury many of us feel when boys get away with this ish.

Most Meaningful Book

The Cat Who Saved Books by Sôsuke Natsukawa

Super sweet, heartwarming read. A little bit of grief mixed in with a love of books and a dying bookstore. Saved by a magical cat and a boy.

Most Conceptually Intriguing

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

Commentary on how heroes actually do the most damage, but told in a fun, superhero world way. I think if anyone likes marvel or dc, they should read this. This concept was really interesting and was nice to see a “villain’s” POV. The ending irritated me, though.

I started a lot of interesting reads this year, too, but won’t have them finished in time. So here’s to some good reads in 2023!

[stellanslashgeode]

stats tag game

Thank you so much for tagging me, @kalevalakryze ! This will be fun.

Most hits (1,148) Sundari Lament: This one makes sense. It is twelve chapters and I updated it fairly regularly so it was pushed up to the newly added search results quite consistently. This is the one I'm most proud of and the one I will point new readers to. If the Concerto is what I'm known for that's fine with me. I had a lot to say with this one and I think I communicated it well with the right dramatic flair and tone.

Fewest hits (163) Lavender and Chartreuse: The one is always going to be my little lost lamb. It's a ship nobody was asking for. The fanbase for Resistance is miniscule. But I really like it. It's the only one I started with the goal of writing erotica and I think it delivers. It has my favorite moment of intimacy in one of my stories, involving the belt of a bathrobe. If anyone wants to make fanart of my work I would love to see that scene illustrated. I think it's really sweet.

Most kudos (49) Heart of Kyber: This story has taught me a lot about my audience. I write stories about Barriss and what most people who seek out those stories truly want is her smooching Ahsoka. I get it, trust me. It will take some time for another one of my works to surpass the kudos for this one, it regularly chugs along and picks up more. I really love this one. I put in a lot of my personal feelings about forgiveness and what it takes to love someone who hurt you. I like to think it comes out in the writing.

Most comments (58) Inferno: I know why this one has so many comments, it's controversial! The thought behind it was "Okay, Dave. You want to do Barriss dirty like that, make her a criminal? Then go all out! Make her a real radical, explain her motivations, and have her team up with all the other radicals in the series to really accomplish something!" In retrospect I didn't explain effectively some character choices which led to some of the comments. This one arrived in a firehose of inspiration; I was updating every day, so it got a lot of early attention. I think it got shared somewhere, maybe Reddit, because a lot of readers I don't know showed up. And it made some people big mad. Hense the comments.

Fewest comments (0) Lavender and Chartreuse: Again, under loved. What I like most about this one is that since it's told from the POV of a temporarily blinded person who has a one-night stand. It's very sensual. It's all "oh this person has strong arms", it's all touch and smell and taste. It's about vulnerability and seeking comfort though closeness. I really like this one. I think the title is really clever on top of everything else.

Most bookmarks (12) Sundari Lament: I could see why people wanted to bookmark and wait until it was finished!

Fewest bookmarks (0) Jedi: Dropout- This one was an experiment to see if an all-OC story would appeal to readers. I used to mainly for worldbuilding and writing this cute clueless couple who were not heroes but had to adapt to dangerous circumstances. It's my other weird little child.

Most words (50,678) Sundari Lament: I did not expect it to get this long but when you're filling in what happened behind the scenes over three seasons of a television series you can get a little carried away. I didn't realize when I started how many times the action goes back to Sunari, so I had to account for that and this one had a lot of character development, so it needed time to breathe. I think it's the right length for what it needed to accomplish.

Fewest words (13,003) From Uncanny unto Concordance: L&C is a one-shot so I'm not counting that one (it's just over 5K). This story was designed to be short, one chapter per season over the course of a year. It was designed to be intimate and a relatively small story. I'm happy with how it turned out and I am enjoying fleshing out the AU in the sequel.

No pressure tag to @archduke42