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#which makes knives and cutlery
doeeyeddyke · 5 months
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would anyone around here 30+ and working and/or owning a home be willing to sit through a zoom meeting with an undergrad who gets paid like $22 for talking about cutlery. you don't have to buy anything the $22 is for not selling anything. i'm kinda desperate for work but also will not be taking this job if it's not feasible (unpaid 2 days of training nonsense be fr)
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greymouse42 · 1 month
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sorry sorry one more - when you said Malachi thinks he's "impossible"... I know why /I/ think he's impossible, but can you elaborate on that from his pov? Is it just the insufferable thing or is there more?
(he might be insufferable, but I love him for it, your honor)
With all the love and morbid fascination in the world, I very much want to know why you think he's impossible uwu. But unfortunately I don't think he's even aware of how insufferable he is in arguments 🤣
The actual answer got Sad™
I moreso meant — like. Jan is their own kind of disaster, but between the two of them, Jan's finished college, has a career, and has a furnished apartment. Mal only has half of one of those things. He barely remembers his twenties. In 2013 he literally keeps forgetting to buy a bedframe. His interests, when he remembers he has them, are deeply in-the-weeds and not always appropriate. He has about ✨ one date’s ✨ worth of sane and normal conversation material before he is abruptly out of his depth, and he runs into this threshold of “wow I've run out of things that're safe to say about myself” with everyone he meets (except Jan).
Also Paul (therapist) for all of his usefulness is not, imho, kind (because I do not think Mal could stand a kind therapist, honestly). After having one of the sessions played out in downtime, I think there's maybe an interesting thing happening where Paul is being very helpful on the PTSD front, but an unintentional side-effect is that Mal's self-esteem is actively getting sandpapered every time they talk.
Tldr: his life completely falls apart every 20 years and he's still not 100% sure why. He thinks that's maybe a bit unfair for anyone else to deal with. His own parent didn't want to deal with it why would anyone else it's fine he's got it totally under control he's so functional.
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dirt-str1der · 5 months
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1998 trigun literally wins because i was terrified that it would only be stampede and i was preemptively crying and hugging myself then the haul
#Listen to my problems#we win because when i asked told two artists i was happy to see 1998 merch they were both like Because we like 1998 better#and i got a few trimax vashes also we fucking win#that one artist who said they purposefully match every stampede merch with one 1998 merch is my fucking hero even though i didnt buy their#coasters. their extremely cute coasters. i told them if i still had money at the end of the day i would circle back but then i hit the#motherload near the end of the hall and lost all my money and more and i found the yaoi and TWO AWESOME 1998 VASH POSTERS#AND THEY WERE SO COOOOOOOL one even had the option of coming pre-peppered with bullets#i fucking win#1998 wins#i have no money now (grins) i love spending ...#some of these artists are genuinely my heroes though .... like the guy who made a little standee and gave knives a fat ass ...#it was so funny that i was forced to buy him and vash as a set theyre holding cutlery#i left wolfwood out of everything because every trigun decision i make is targeted to piss off vash/wood shippers#because i hate their ship. but also my friend and i found kv stuff at doujima which was so scary to me ...#i would respect the brevity and efficiency of having a ship name thats two letters but i hate their ship#and then my friend told me the bad news that there was at least three kv shippers at the con i thought it was just that one guy#i dont care anymore because i didnt buy anything from them despite being happy but hehe merchandise .... the designs were cute though ...#AND I SAW THREE OFFICIAL VASH PLUSHIES and two bootlegs !!!! and i brought my own bootleg everyone fucking loved him#they all wanted a picture of him in his crib because they were all so pleased that hes a baby#the very first person i saw with a plush made me take it out so they could play together and make them kiss and their friends i think were#filming and one of them went (gasp) selfcest .... and i was like (voice crack) NOOOOO#theyre funny ... thank god ! i had fun today i really did
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anashins · 2 years
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Seeds of Pomegranates
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Pairing: god!Jaehyun x human!reader
Genre: Hades x Persephone reimagining, dark romance, hate to love, slow burn, smut
Word Count: 29.5k
Warnings: morally grey characters
Summary: The day the god of the underworld steals you away, he expects to have found a timid wife to make his isolated life more bearable. Little does he know that the rose he picked from the garden called earth bears knives instead of thorns, and he might not have found a timid wife, but a queen with a heart as dark as his.
A/N: Hi guys! Months worth of rewriting and editing is finally finished! This story grew very dear to me since this is my first plot based on greek mythology, and I took my sweet time for the world building. Thus, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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The day the god of the underworld stole you away from earth, he didn’t only steal your body, but your soul too.
You were watering the flowers in the garden behind your small house before he did it. It was the first day of spring, the sun rays only slowly starting to feel warm and pleasant on the tip of your nose. Your plants were reluctantly awakening after months of hiding under a thick blanket of icy snow, but you were determined to make them flourish and blossom in all colors again. Your mother always said you had a magic touch for making flowers grow even from concrete, and every year you proved to her that she was right.
From the kitchen window that stood ajar, you smelled the delicious stew she was currently cooking with the help of your little sister, prepared from the self harvested vegetables that had survived this long winter. You were already looking forward to lunch - of which you were blissfully unaware you wouldn’t be able to join at that time.
When the watering can was slowly emptying, only droplets still coming out, you arose from your crouching position with the intention to walk over to the well and refill it one last time. Overhearing your sister placing the plates and cutlery on the table, you assumed the stew was finally ready, so you hurried with your steps to finish your labor quickly.
If you had known that the last words you directed at your mother and sister before leaving the house would have been “I’ll be back soon!”, would you have chosen other ones? Perhaps something with a deeper message like “I’ll always love you” or “I’ll be fine”? But you hadn’t known, so they were left with the promise that you’d eventually return from wherever you vanished to that day.
Even though you didn’t know yourself whether you would ever be able to see them again.
Lowering the bucket into the well, it never came to reach the water’s surface. Suddenly, it felt like the entire world came crashing down on you. Deafening noise replaced the birds’ singing and chirping that had accompanied you until now. You panicked and raised your head, looking over to the house where you wanted to make sure that nothing was happening to your family as the soil beneath your feed started to shake too.
Gathering your skirts around your hips, you prepared yourself to sprint, but as you were about to set one foot aside, there was nothing to support your body anymore in front of you. The ground under you was split, entirely gone, and only darkness gaping at you from beneath. You let out a scream and stepped away, rescuing yourself to the other side of the cleft.
Having no idea where this earthquake came from as they were unusual for this part of the world, you only thought about saving your mother and sister. But as you looked over to the house again, it still stood there, solid, steady and seemingly unmoving. And then, it was gone. Not because it fell into a crater like the one that had split in front of you, but because you fell into one that had opened up between your legs, forcing them apart.
Realizing the danger of the situation too late, there was no possibility for you to save yourself anymore as you fell right into the gap, into darkness, with a long lasting scream.
So, this was how you died, you thought.
____
You had dreamed of your mother and your little sister. Only the three of you, sitting at the lunch table, eating the delicious stew the two had prepared upon your return from the garden. You were chattering and laughing together as always, as though nothing had changed. But it wasn’t real, only a dream in which you wanted to linger a bit longer.
Silent tears had streamed down your closed eyes that were now dried around the rims and which you still refused to open. The surface on which you were lying felt a little too comfortable, almost like a soft mattress. A thick blanket was pulled over your body as well so that you didn’t freeze. You were able to move your fingers, feeling every breather your chest drew as though reminding you that you were very much still alive and not dead like you had assumed. 
Eventually, you had to force your lids open. Dim light coming from lit candles immersed the dark room in which you were situated in a soothing atmosphere. Though the term “room” was an understated description for the place in which you found yourself. The closet-like space back at home which you shared with your sister could be called a room, but this was way bigger than your entire house, including the garden, and way more. This was an entire suite.
You braced yourself against what truly turned out to be a soft mattress on a huge bed that was thrice the size of your own, the posts towering you on each edge and connecting over your head in a net of purple velvet. The bed was made of black marble glistening in the flickering candlelight coming from the golden chandeliers, and only then you noticed that the entire room was forged from this luxurious, dark material. 
To your right, you spotted two high pointed windows that reached to the vaulted ceiling with interlaced arches, but the view was hidden by curtains made of the same purple velvet that was hanging over your bed. The suite was decorated with long, golden mirrors and stucco of the same color, and to your left, you found a long closet stretching across the entire wall as well as a dressing table.
Before you could inspect the place further, a knock on the door made you gasp out loud and slide to the far end of the bed. You were at a loss about what had happened to you, where you currently were, why you were here. Had you, inexplicably, survived the earthquake and been rescued by someone?
You nearly didn’t dare look when the doors opened and in walked a girl, most likely a bit younger than you, dressed all in black with a golden tray in her hands. She was very pale, but the color of her skin stood in contrast to her dark hair and garments of the same color, the smile around her lips inviting, kind, and genuine. 
“Good morning, mistress, you’re already awake!” she chirped in a cheerful voice.
It was morning already? For how long have you slept? “Good morning,” you croaked, startled by your own, hoarse voice. “Where am I?”
“At my master’s palace.” She put the tray on top of the mattress, right next to you. There, you spotted a bowl filled with what appeared as porridge. “I came to bring you breakfast, mistress. After that, I’ll help you bathe and get dressed.”
“What for?” You furrowed. If anything, you wanted to leave right away to return home. “And please, I’m not a mistress.”
“To meet my master, he’s already waiting,” was the girl’s simple answer. “And as a guest of this household, you’re formally our mistress.”
At that moment, it made sense to you. Of course you would need to express your gratitude to the person who saved you from the earthquake, it was only polite. Then, you could return home, so you gave a nod to confirm your agreement despite being addressed as a mistress still not sitting right with you. You would act along for today.
“What’s your name?” you asked the girl as she put the tray on your lap, taking the spoon into your hand and dipping it into the porridge.
For a guest suite so big, the breakfast was very simple, plain even, you silently remarked. The oats were made with water, not milk, so the flavor wasn’t very rich as they also hadn’t been seasoned with sugar or cinnamon. But again, you didn’t want to be ungrateful and enjoyed what was offered to you.
“It’s Ara, mistress.”
The title sounded so bizarre to your ears. You were a simple girl from a small village, not someone who usually resided at such a place. 
“Ara, I would love to meet your master and express my gratitude. Take me to him.”
“Very well, mistress.”
____
After taking a bath in a room that wasn’t less luxurious as the one in which you had slept, with a tub made of the same dark marble that reminded you of onyx, Ara dressed you in a tame, but beautiful long-sleeved dress made of pastel pink silk that flowed down your body and fitted perfectly. During the process, you noted that you hadn’t caught any bruises or scratches from the fall, and you nearly started to question your sanity if falling into that crate had even happened at all. Miraculously, you had survived unscathed.
With cautious steps, you followed Ara along the dark corridor lit up by candles, the dark yet lavish theme of the place also present here. It didn’t take you long to find out that this wasn’t a mansion, but an entire palace you had only read about in books. For someone who had grown up in a small, rundown house, it couldn’t quite fit in your imagination how big a palace like this one must be as you rounded corners and passed by more corridors with walls you had to bend your neck to see them end. There were no windows open, all blacked out by the velvet curtains despite it being morning apparently, light coming only from the elaborate candelabras. 
You wondered how far from home you had been found as you had never encountered someone passing by a palace like this close to you, so fascinating yet intimidating. Surely, news must have broken out like wildfire already since village people devoured gossip like no one else, especially when it was about something as lavish as the owner of this palace. You were eager to find out and request an escort home. 
Ara eventually stopped in front of a heavy door after you had nearly clumsily flown down a stairwell. On your way to here, you hadn’t encountered a single other person. It was quite a huge residence for someone to call it a home to themselves only. You didn’t know what to make of this odd place.
“My master awaits you.”
As the door opened, you found yourself standing in front of a purple carpet that led into a grand hall. The carpet shaped a long aisle with swaths of the same colors on the walls, interrupted by golden candelabras. The windows, spaced every few feet, were taller than most homes you had seen, and the high ceilings as well as arches were just as extravagantly forged. 
And there, on a dais at the end of the aisle, raised a pompous throne, tapering at the top in spikes and forming sword-like adornments that were divided by a skull in the very middle of it.
On the throne itself was seated a tall figure. 
The master. 
“Please come in,” he called out to you.
Even though you were still at the other side of the hall, you heard him clearly, a voice so low, it could haunt your dreams, but also so melodic, it could lure you to listen to its owner for an eternity as well. The latter was what drew you closer as the door magically shut behind you without physical force. 
He was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and even this didn’t do a description justice, you thought to yourself as you stood in front of the dais after a long, silent walk toward it, eyeing the master hopefully, almost imperceptibly. In your small village, you had encountered many beautiful people on their journey across the lands, but even the most handsome ones didn’t come close to the man opposite of you.
Other-worldly, on the other hand, was spot on to describe his appearance. His hair was blacker than a crow’s feather, falling elegantly into his forehead and nape, his skin fairer than winter snow, and his dark eyes clearer than morning dew. He was everything you knew and way more than that, nearly impossible to fathom in human words.
His right leg hung loosely over the throne’s armrest, his elbow propped against the left one as though he was bored, but you didn’t miss the attention and slight wariness in his gaze. He was donned in a black jacket and black trousers with gold embellishments that ended in boots of the same shade. The attire rustled when he settled in a proper seating position and leaned forward as though to examine you. Only then you noticed the black crown that ended in spikes sitting on top of his head and nearly meshing seamlessly with his dark hair.
Having almost forgotten your manners, you quickly gathered your composure, suppressing your reverence for his appearance, and did a curtsey. “I apologize for having let you wait for so long… master. I wanted to express my gratitude for the rescue and for giving me shelter in your home.” You caught him raising a brow when you looked back up to him. 
He slowly repeated two words, “Rescue? Shelter?”
You were just as perplexed, but explained your situation calmly, suspecting there might have been a miscommunication from your side, “For having saved me after I fell into the crater during the earthquake. I am deeply indebted to you and will do anything in my power as a peasant to repay what you have done for me. But first, and I want to apologize beforehand for being so bold, I ask to return home and make sure that my mother and sister are well.”
“I haven’t rescued you.” Smoothly, he set both his feet on the dais’ surface and leaned back again as though more relaxed now, “It was me who tore the earth apart to get you.”
A shudder ran down your spine and you took a step back. Surely, you must have misheard. “W-what do you mean by that? I don’t understand.”
He rose from his throne, now standing even taller and higher above you, and you grew more intimidated than you already were, bracing yourself to flee as an eerie feeling settled in your stomach. 
“This is the underworld, my kingdom.” Pause. “And you’re going to be my wife.”
____
You were running as fast as your feet were able to carry you. Somewhere along the way, you had lost your slippers, but you didn’t mind your bare soles touching the ground in passing as long as you could find an exit. But there was none. With the long skirts flowing between your legs and your hair getting lifted up by each movement, you ran along the apparent endless corridors, but every door you opened led you into another, empty room, regardless of the floor and part of the palace you ended up in. 
There was no exit, there was only darkness.
Exhausted and having to support yourself against the cold wall, you gasped for air, your lungs hurting as you had been trying to escape for too long already. From the window, a soft breeze found its way in, but you didn’t dare to pull the curtains aside, scared of what you would find behind them.
He was the god of the underworld, he had said.
You had heard many people in your village and visitors talking about these deities, worshiping them even, despite no one having met one once. Except for… you vaguely remembered an elderly woman journeying through the country once and passing by your house as well. She wanted to spread the news that she had been abducted by the god of the sea when she was younger, but your mother only closed the door in front of her face. Now you wondered whether she had been right all along as you just couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.
With a start, when you were able to stand on your own feet without feeling on the brink of fainting from exhaustion again, you pried apart the curtains and were surprisingly delighted to meet with light.
But this feeling evaporated very quickly as you gazed into the distance. The landscape was the greatest contrast to your home country that shone with green fields, towering trees, scentful flowers and golden crops. What dominated the scenery here were rolling plains, mostly treeless with the exception of a few clustered pines. Beneath the sky, everything was tinged in a reddish hue, varying from light orange to crimson. Your field of vision was constrained by a gray mountain range so high, the sharp tops ending in red clouds that were so thick and heavy that no light of any sort was coming through. What caused the red lightning though, you couldn’t see.
When you lowered your head, you discovered you were currently on one of the top floors of this dark palace that was built in a foreign, but impressive way. It was a complex, rich system of forts, bastions and towers with sharp tops that sparkled in the reflection of the red lighting and melded with the clouds of the same shade. The building ended several dozen meters below you on a bridge that crossed a vibrant sapphire blue river.
So there was a way out of this palace. 
“This is my kingdom and as my wife, it will become yours too.”
You flinched upon hearing his voice, not daring to turn around to him. You hadn’t even heard him approaching, when he had caught up to you. If he was the god of the underworld, what kind of power did he possess? You weren’t sure whether you ever wanted to find out.
“This will never become my home.” When you finally faced him, you were sure passion and resistance flickered in your eyes almost as intensely as the sky behind you. Fear was not a term familiar to you now as you cared more about your remaining family. “And I will never become your wife. I demand my freedom right now!”
He sighed as though he was the one in the right to get annoyed. “I fear I might not be able to do that.”
“You brought me here without my consent, you tore me away from my family, you robbed me off my life,” you spat, “and you’re expecting that I’m going to stay?”
“Even gods cannot defy godly rules.” He stepped closer to the window, but this time, you didn’t withdraw, indicating that he didn’t have such an effect on you. When he stood next to you, tall and mighty, his presence radiating a threatening aura, you still didn’t waver in your position, the growing resentment replacing apprehension. “When a human comes to the underworld, they cannot return on their own.”
“Am I-?!” You gasped.
He only snickered dryly as he looked out of the window. “You’re very far from being dead. You’re still very much alive.” 
“Then I can go back,” you whispered more to yourself, this enlightenment getting your hopes up. You would find a way, with or without his permission. 
He might be a god, but he didn’t own you. He might have stolen you from your home, but he hadn’t taken control of your mind, or your body. You were still you, and you would use all of your remaining strength, mentally and physically, to reunite with your family on earth.
The god shifted his head as though catching your silent mantras, looking down at you with an expression almost so unreadable, it seemed on the verge of indifference even. “There is a way. But do you really think I will let you go after I did everything in my power and beyond that just to get you?”
Stretching out his hand, he grabbed your chin, and despite all the twisting and turning that you did, you weren’t able to wind yourself out of his grip. You bared your teeth, hissing under your breath, “I’m not a possession you can decide over. If you won’t let me go, I will do it myself!”
He jerked you towards him with his grip and you let out a squeal that sounded far more worrisome than you had wanted to let slip. But as he had you in control with only his fingers, you couldn’t defy the terrified feeling anymore that settled deep in your bones. It showed all in your eyes when he locked gazes with you, his look the total opposite of yours, stern and determined.
Bringing his lips to your ear, the god whispered, “Try, and we’ll see what happens.”
When his breath hit your skin, you shuddered. But not in a fearful, dreading way as his grip didn’t hurt at all. Goosebumps formed on the spot around your ear, running down to your shoulder and all along your arm, betraying your own body in what you should actually feel right now.
He let you go with a slight smile, observing you from head to toe as though he was able to read your body language. Then, he turned around and left, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. 
Rage took over this slight moment of irritation when he was gone, making you kick candelabras out of your way, tearing curtains apart and screaming at the underworld that the opened windows revealed: death, isolation and endless darkness. 
And then, despair replaced fury and you broke down crying by the window, calling after your mother and sister.
____
“Mistress, you need to eat something.”
Ara placed a bowl of the same, plain oatmeal next to you on the bed that you, for the third day in a row, refused to eat. You had lost all your appetite, spending day and night in what had been assigned to be your bedroom, sleeping and weeping. Though day and night didn’t differ much from each other down here as you had figured. The days consisted of threatening red sky, the nights of dangerous darkness.
“You also have to change your clothes, mistress. I selected a few from the closet.”
“Why won’t he let me go home?” you whispered, turning to the window side away from her and watching the red sky fade into the black one as one single tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “Why do I need to stay here?”
“Once you’re here, it’s not so easy to go home, mistress. Almost impossible even.”
“Then why did he bring me here in the first place?” Your voice was hoarse from all the crying the days before, hair greasy and sticking to your skin, eyes puffy and swollen. “I’ve always tried so hard to be a good girl again. Do I still deserve this? Is this my very own punishment?”
“I don’t know what you mean, mistress, but it’s odd,” Ara stated nearly absent-mindedly, “the way you humans think. There are humans who would do anything to get into the godly realms, demanding entry into a harem or only bearing the child of one. You’re the first I encounter who doesn’t want all this.” 
“What do those humans expect from this?” 
“Endless satisfaction, glory and youth, mistress. In the godly realms, you cannot age.”
You chuckled bitterly. “Of course.” 
“Doesn’t this sound alluring to you too?” Ara wanted to know with genuine curiosity. “My master would be willing to offer you anything you want.”
“Absolutely not,” you instantly refused. “Having all your beloved ones die one after another until you’re all alone… for eternity? I wouldn’t be able to live like that, possessing all that richness but not what’s most important to me. The only thing I want is my family, nothing else.”
Ara fell into silence. “I don’t have a family, so I cannot relate. It’s nice to meet someone who adores their family though and doesn’t want to unalive them like most gods.” 
“I’m sorry.” You turned back around to her. “What happened to your family?”
“Nothing.” She was smiling again. “I’m an ordinary sprite with no powers, I don’t know where I originate from. That’s what we all are here… powerless in our nature, so we end up in a serving position. But I’m not sad about it. I have a purpose for eternity, it’s better than wandering around with no direction.”
You watched Ara spreading out the dresses on the huge bed. They were all in your favorite pastel colors, the color of the flowers that bloomed in your mother’s garden, the material so luxurious and soft upon touching the hem with your finger tips, you were sure you would have never been able to afford even one dress under normal circumstances.
If this was Ara’s only purpose in life, who were you to refuse her offer? A simple favor for someone who had been taking care of you, nothing more. Perhaps, changing your clothes after three days wasn’t a bad idea either. You sat up and inspected each dress in detail while asking, 
“You said humans demand entry to the godly realms, Ara. Where are they? The people in the harem here, for example.”
Given the possibility of staying young and wandering around in these rich clothes forever, living a lush lifestyle, you could very well imagine that other humans would do anything to be in your position now. But you weren’t one of those, you didn’t care about luxury, goods and money.
“My master doesn’t have a harem, mistress, nor do other mortals live here in his palace. It’s only us, other houseworkers and servants.”
“Oh. I was expecting…” You didn’t know what you had expected, but you weren’t surprised either. The darkness in this kingdom wasn’t very inviting to live in until eternity after all. 
“How about this dress, mistress?” Ara held up a light blue gown made of silk with long, almost translucent sleeves and cut-out in the back. You had never worn something as daring but also as beautiful as this. “I will bathe you and do your hair the way you prefer.”
“What would I need it for?” Only now you noticed that your stomach was growling. Although plain oats didn’t smell deliciously tempting, your body was telling you that you desperately needed to be fed. You already saw yourself giving in to your needs and devouring the oatmeal.
“To meet with my master,” Ara replied as though a given, and you froze.
“No!” you protested, causing her to flinch at your loud erupt. “Tell him I’m not going to meet up with him nor do I ever want to see him again! Even if I die here, I don’t ever want to see him again. I will find a way out myself and I will escape from this place. This, you can tell him.”
“My master assumed that you’d react this way, so he wants you to know that if you meet up with him tonight, he will tell you how your family is doing.”
Your stomach hollowed and not only from hunger as dread filled the empty space and your fingers gripped the sheets, tensely. You suddenly felt so sick at the thought of what he could do to your family out there if he really was so powerful. Would it now always be like this? That he would threaten and you had to comply for the sake of your beloved ones’ safety?
“Fine.”
In the bathroom, where Ara gently scrubbed your skin with oil that smelled of meadows, massaged your scalp in calming rhythms and washed your hair with white foam, you broke out in tears again, but she didn’t say a word and let you cry in silence. At home, bathing was a luxury you were only able to enjoy once a week in a small wooden basin.
Your homesickness came in waves, especially in the evenings when you missed the warm body of your little sister pressed into you from behind, the bed way too small for the both of you, but she was always refusing to sleep at your mother’s side on the bigger mattress as she felt too old for that already.
When Ara dried your body and hair, you were still weeping, but her careful yet comfortable treatment made it all a bit more bearable.
____
“Have a seat, little rose.”
The god was seated at the head on the far end of the long table, and although your set of plate and cutlery were placed right next to his, you seated yourself on a chair opposite of him where you were the farthest away. Immediately, a servant came by to relocate the tableware.
“Don’t call me that.” 
“Don’t you like that name?” he asked, arrogantly feigning offense. “I think it matches very well with you. A flower from earth, looking and smelling so beautifully, but bearing sharp thorns that she’s not afraid to use.”
At first, you were confident to interpret his words as an insult, but when you repeated them in your head once more, you weren’t sure whether they leaned more towards a compliment as there was something in his tone that gave the impression, and it irritated you very much.
“Why have you moved away from me?” The god leniently crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back on his chair, no crown adorning his hair this time. “You don’t have to be afraid. If I wanted to hurt you, you would surely not sit here now, invited to dine with me.” 
“Afraid?” You frowned at him and lifted your chin. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t want to be near you for your own sake, in case I want to stab you. Though depending on what you have to tell me about my family, I can’t guarantee it won’t still happen.”
Amusement played around the god’s lips in the form of a smug smile, your answer apparently surprising him entirely. “You’re a very interesting one, little rose, I must admit.”
“Is that why I’m here? Because you find me interesting?”
The servant placed a napkin on your lap, causing your mouth to water already. You were dreaming of a feast consisting of meat, potatoes, vegetables and fruits. At home, those things were rarely served together, but you assumed that in a palace as huge as this, it was something you could look forward to for dinner. 
In such a rare moment, you allowed yourself to be greedy. Mutedly begging for apology, you thought that if it stayed in your head only like all the other things you had sinned for, it wouldn’t taint your image anymore. Nobody had to know if you didn’t voice it out or act on it obviously.
“I find many things interesting.” The god snipped his fingers and you flinched. “But boring humans don’t belong to that category.”
“Yet, you stole one of these boring humans away to make her your bride.”
The next moment, another servant opened the door and brought in two bowls, one placed in front of him, the other in front of you. You were trying your best to hide your disappointed expression, but were sure that you failed when you saw what was in the bowl: plain porridge like the past few days and what you had nipped on shortly before. And 
“Others would trade everything they have to be in your place now.”
Your fingers hovered over the cutlery, but you withdrew them again, not wanting to give in yet, despite your stomach making demanding noises that mustn’t have passed by the god himself. Either this was his way of subtly punishing you while you were residing here, but that wouldn’t explain why he didn’t eat something else in front of you. Or this was the only food served in the underworld. Neither assumption satisfied you. 
“I’m not like others. I’m not a boring simpleton. I have responsibilities, a family to take care of. How can I reside here in peace when my family cannot even afford a life without me?”
“Because now they can,” he replied simply.
You tilted her head in confusion. “What?” 
“Let me assure you that your family has been taken care of. The day I brought you here, they were greatly supplied with a chest consisting of pure gold that will last them their lifetime and the generations after them.”
You shuddered visibly, having no intention to pay weight to his words. “That’s not the main reason. How am I supposed to reside in this palace and live carefreely when I cannot be certain my family is healthy and happy every day, when I’m not there to witness how they do without me?” 
“Such a peculiar way of thinking, I have never encountered this before,” he carefully said. “The humans who trade and bargain with us gods just to get the same privileges as you never look back, not even the ones who hadn’t decided on their own to enter the godly realms. When they see what kind of lifestyle awaits them here, they fold instantly. But you aren’t so selfish. You’re right. You’re no ‘such’ mortal. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked a flower with thorns like you, little rose.”
“Then set me free.” You glared at him across the table. “My family doesn’t care about gold or money. We just want to be together.”
He pursed his lips and sighed. “As I said, it’s difficult.”
“I don’t trust you,” you eventually pressed through gritted teeth, resting your fingers on the edge of the bowl, then pushing the porridge away from you. “I don’t believe anything you say.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table in preparation to speak with his attention only on you. “I have no reason to lie to you, but I also won’t force you to trust me. I’m just telling you that I understand if you’re wary, considering the circumstances.” 
“Then tell me why you keep me captured,” you demanded again, suppressing your surprise over his honesty.
“And then you will eat?” You didn’t understand why he even cared in the first place if the porridge wasn’t poisoned, but agreed with a slight nod just to get the reply out of him. “Fine. You’re here, because I need a wife to keep me company. I can offer you everything a female human could ever dream of - a luxurious home with endless space, dresses in all colors under the rainbow, delicious food that doesn’t even grow on earth, and gold to fulfill all your further needs.”
You gulped visibly, but held his gaze. So the porridge truly was punishment only, physically and emotionally.  “That’s… that’s all?”
He shrugged, not touching his bowl either, you noticed. “Truth to be told, I thought it would be easier according to the stories I’ve been told. Other gods own harems full of humans who live lavish lifestyles until all eternity.”
“So I heard,” you retorted, utterly grossed out.
“I also admit that, apparently, I know nothing about humans.” A smile tugged on the corner of his lips that quickly evaporated again. Or had it only been in your imagination? “Certainly not about ones like you.”
You cocked a brow. “Humans like me?”
“Strong-willed, demanding, determined. Either I am very lucky in choosing you as my wife. Or rather unfortunate. We’re going to figure it out, right?”
“Again, I am not going to be your wife.” When he didn’t make a move to add something, you asked, “That’s all? That’s why I’m here? Because you needed a wife and I was just… there?”
Frankly, the god apparently didn’t know what else to tell you, what you wanted to hear from him. Did you know yourself, though? What kind of explanation did you expect to make you understand your current situation better? 
“That’s all.”
With a start, you jumped out of your seat, the chair making squealing noises as you pushed it along the marbled floor. You glared at him so deathly, it would possibly make every other god fear your presence. But he didn’t budge. 
“I’d rather die.”
____
“My master wanted me to bring you here, because he assumed you would feel a bit better in an environment resembling your home.”
A few more days had passed without you having to meet the god again, plain porridge being brought by Ara directly to your room, assuring you that real food was still being withheld from you, but you also didn’t want to ask and cave. You weren’t crying every day anymore, either because there were no tears left or because you knew it was for vain.
You hadn’t entirely given up though. The god and Ara both had implied that there was a way for you to return. Even if it might be almost impossible, almost was not entirely. But if neither of them were going to tell or show you how, you would rather figure it out yourself than sit here in captivity and boredom if either possibility would result in you not seeing your family ever again.
So it was a lucky coincidence that Ara had brought you to the palace’s garden, and you would lie if you said that you weren’t in the least bit impressed about it, because it had everything you had ever dreamed of growing and tending back at home.
You stood there, on green grass with your fine slippers, feeling every soily bump beneath your soles, and what you encountered amazed you very much. Patterned throughout the grass were different paths made of cobblestone, passing by rose bushes, colorful flower beds, perfectly trimmed hedges and marble statues that all came together in the middle of the location where a fountain made of limestone stood out, water splashing all around.
“This is magnificent!” you called out and followed the path that led to the center, the entire colorful and playful setting building a stark contrast to the red sky, but this was what made it insanely beautiful too, you had to admit. “I didn’t know something would be able to grow here!” Since you had been brought to the underworld, there was finally something that remotely awoke interest inside of you and let you push your pain and despair to the back of your head only for a little while.
“Contrary to popular belief, we can also grow fruits and vegetables here. See?”
Ara pointed at a tree that you were passing, red pomegranates hanging from the branches. After weeks of nearly tasteless porridge that was supposed to break your iron will, only the image of the crimson seeds caused your mouth to water immediately. They had been withholding this from you all along? The things you would have done just to taste something different were unimaginable, and you stretched out your hand, reaching for the fruit. You were just so hungry…
“Careful!” Ara warned you.
You reclined your hand, alarmed. “What is it?”
“Seven seeds.” A manly vice from behind you let you jump. “Seven seeds only, and you’ll be stuck here forever. Take one and you won’t be able to stop, because they taste so ungraspable wonderfully on a human tongue. Everything growing in the underworld will bind you to this realm and you will never be able to return to earth ever again.” The god walked towards you both and Ara did a curtsy while you refused to copy her greeting. “Thank you for bringing her here, you’re dismissed, Ara.”
You were petrified when a thought slowly sank in while the servant left you both alone. “But I’ve been eating-”
“Mortal food all along,” the god clarified. Today, he was dressed more casually and wasn’t wearing a crown like the last time you had met, you silently remarked. “That’s why you were served plain oats only. At least they always taste the same. Everything else we bring down here from earth rots right away. They’re living things, not made for death.”
You looked at the pomegranate tree, then back at him. You had been served porridge from your first day on before you even met, and a few days ago, he had been served the same dish as you, hadn’t he? Why? “You could have easily fed me these all along, and I wouldn’t have known. Why haven’t you?”
“I decide over the fates of the dead humans, not the living. I guess I always wanted to give you a choice, no matter how slim this chance might be. Deep inside, I assume I just couldn’t take someone against their will entirely.” His honesty bewildered you. That was not what he had indicated the first time you talked. “Even if you’re a human, you always have a choice. Even now you do.”
“I haven’t been given the choice whether I wanted to come down here,” you spoke monotonously, shaking off the expression he directed at you that nearly bordered sympathy. 
The god lifted his hand and plucked a pomegranate from the tree. Twisting it apart and presenting the red seeds in equal halves to you, your tongue instantly lusted after the taste of the fruit’s delicious flesh. You had only tasted pomegranate seeds once in your life, back then when you had saved enough money to buy a half from a piepowder. But you still remembered that moment very well, because it was so special.
“I was probably too naive as I have never been to the mortal world myself. I could only rely on what the other gods told me, and they all said the same thing.”
“Which was?” You averted your eyes from the pomegranate halves before you went insane from hunger. 
“That humans would do anything to live in the godly realms, leeching off everything they were offered, such as luxury and eternal youth. That humans are simpletons you could control, could do anything with.” He clearly saw you gulping, which was probably why he quickly added, “But I only wanted a wife, so I took my sweet time making a decision that day. A wrong and hasty decision after all, as it turned out that I’m the simpleton here.” He plucked the seeds from the pomegranate halves and placed them into his hand. You counted seven. Then, he squeezed his palm together, red juice dripping from his fingers onto the soil, staining it like blood. “You better make sure not to go near these in case your craving makes you go crazy.”
To weigh yourself in better safety, you turned your face away from him. “How do I get away from here? Tell me.”
The god drew in a sharp breath. “Someone must get you. Someone from earth must come down here and take you back.”
You got a feeling you didn’t want to know the details to that  “And how would they do that?”
To that, he didn’t seem to have a specific answer. “I cannot tell you as I don’t know exactly myself. I heard that there are ways humans can actually summon certain gods, and depending who they are able to reach, they might help if they’re in the mood. The god of the sea demands a human offering for example, but the god of the wind on the other hand just doesn't want his mortal companion to speak a single word all the way to our realms.”
“Why would they do that to humans?” you called out in frustration. “That’s madness!”
“To bargain with a god is a very dangerous game that they love to play all day long. Humans are pawns to them, a mere distraction to their boring lives.” A touch of snideness swung with his explanation that you couldn’t classify yet and thus dismissed.
“And what would you demand to bring humans here if you don’t take them against their will?”
The god rolled his pupils, his patience seemingly still not wearing out while you just wouldn’t let go of this topic when he replied full with regained composure, “Nobody ever did that, it’s quite not possible since my kingdom is separated from the mortal realms. But the gods of the elements or other parts of the earth are always there.”
“So that means… My mother and my sister have to find their own way to come down here. And depending on who they can reach out to, they either face an impossible quest or death?”
“Not very positively worded, but right.” He shrugged. “I guess so. Of course this applies to any human who would search for you, not only to them.”
“And before that happens, I will need to stay here?” 
“That’s correct.”
When you sucked in a rush of air, he braced himself for an outburst, but you only asked with a threatening calmness, “Why me?”
For such a question, the god apparently wasn’t prepared well enough. And even if… you were sure his answer wouldn’t have changed from the following dissatisfying one, “As I said, I was given the chance to wander the earth for a day and choose a wife.”
“That’s not what I meant. I asked ‘Why me?’ What did I do? Why not someone else?”
For the first time, you got the impression that you had taken him off guard as he raised his brows, not to talk back haughtily, but because he was genuinely confused and didn’t know how to answer. “Why… you? I can’t exactly say why you…” 
“So, the fact that I’m here is merely a coincidence?” There was a sharp edge to the way you uttered these words, and you nearly felt sorry. Nearly.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he patiently defended himself in that situation. “It was still my own decision. But the reason…”
“Be quiet! I have never been given a choice!” You laid your palms flat against his chest, pushing him away from you while anger burned beneath your skin like fever. He stumbled backwards although he could fight you easily. But he didn’t. “You have robbed me of that decision the day you stole me away! You have only fed me mortal food to satisfy your own conscience, but I have never been given a choice in the first place! Don’t talk to me like you actually respect humans, because you don’t!”
You saw him startled as if he were human too, a natural, human reaction, and that fueled your anger even more. “But if someone comes to-”
“Nobody will come to get me!” you yelled. “Nobody will come, because my mother and sister aren’t able to! I only have them, no one else! I’ll be stuck here, and all because of you! I have no free will! You have chosen the only human with no choice at all!”
You spun around on your heel and left the garden with him not following suit. And you were glad about it as the first tears started to fall again.
______
You spent your days restlessly wandering through the entire palace and the connecting garden, with no real destination other than the intention of wanting to make time pass in hope something life-alternating would happen. But it never did.
You rarely saw the god and you were grateful for that, only remaining in contact with Ara and the other servants. But despite them trying their best, they weren’t able to fill the gap your family had left. With each passing day, the hole inside of you grew larger. And with each passing day, you wondered how much bigger it must still grow until it made you end this once and for all.
Once again, you were standing in the garden, listening to the stream while having to watch the god cross the bridge every morning and evening to ride somewhere past the horizon as you started to notice a few days ago. You had never asked him about where he was going even though you were very curious about what laid beyond the river. If you wanted to find out though…
“I wouldn’t even think about it,” you heard an unknown male voice talk behind you that wasn’t as deep as this palace’s owner. “That’s the river of oblivion. Once you fall into it, you forget where you are, what you are and first and foremost… who you are.”
You spun around and encountered a man only a bit shorter than the god of this place with flaming, dark red hair, donned in all black with golden embellishments. You had never seen him here before, and his glamorous garments as well as sophisticated and elegant aura gave away that he was not a servant, but of a much higher status and with much power.
“Jaehyun told me that he had taken in a human to make his wife, so I wanted to see her myself.”
Jaehyun… In comparison to the god of this realm whose name was Jaehyun as you now knew, this person had a much friendlier appearance with a smile that was inviting and a voice that sounded playful. “And you are…?”
“The god of sun and light, and everything bright and pleasant. I’m very pleased to meet you, mistress.”
He stretched out his hand and took your fingers into his. Oddly, you didn’t withdraw but let him do so as you weren’t scared of him. After everything that had happened to you these past weeks, you felt numb to almost everything.
You sucked in a rush of air though as he lifted your hand and led it to his lips, pressing a kiss on our knuckles and causing you to gasp in surprise. It was not your first physical interaction with a man apart from your family, but the first with no ulterior motif from either side, a chaste and respectful gesture. You were taken aback and impressed at the same time.
“I must admit… if I were Jaehyun, I would have chosen you as well.”
You were flattered, but not impressed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like being here.”
“After all this time you still think like this?” He raised his brows. “I’m impressed. Every other mortal would have caved already.”
“Well… I’m not like them.”
“Obviously.” He tilted his head and smiled again. “Have you ever tried getting accustomed to this place? It’s not as boring as it looks like. Especially beyond the river. Even though I prefer the light, this darkness has something comforting, I must admit.”
“Enough, Taeyong,” another male voice cut through the air that you knew very well. “I didn’t invite you here today to put ideas into her head.”
“Even I see her potential, Jaehyun,” your new acquaintance talked back immediately. “Take her with you to the ha-”
“I said enough,” the god interrupted. “She has expressed more than once that she wants to go home, so if you don’t have a solution for that, I would rather have you stay quiet.”
“What is there?” you urged the sun god to speak, suddenly full of hope again. “What is beyond the river?”
But it was the underworld’s god that answered instead, “There is only death, so don’t even think about escaping through these lands. There is no way you will make it out there alive all by yourself.”
And with that, the topic was closed as he disappeared with the sun god back into the palace, leaving you behind in wonder about what there still was to this realm that you had to unravel. If you wanted to unravel that.
Later that evening, you caught Taeyong intending to leave through the main entrance, luckily all by himself. You jumped out from your den, causing him to nearly get a heart attack judging by the way he leapt back with a scream, and asked with a hushed voice,
“What is beyond the river of oblivion?”
Your fingers grabbed the sleeves of his shirt, and he leaned in to you, replying with an equally low tone, “He’s right, there is only death. But that is probably what you are looking for.”
And with another smile, he left through the gates, having opened up more questions than actually having answered one. 
____
“Where are you going?”
Jaehyun cocked his head to the side on his way out of the palace when he got surprised by you in the entrance hall the next day. “Underworld duties.”
“Take me with you,” you demanded, noticing that he was formally dressed and wearing his crown again as always when he left the palace. “It’s where you always leave to, right? Take me with you.”
He frowned. “What?”
“You heard me very well. I want to come with you,” you repeated and approached him until you stood right in front of him, already fully dressed in a cloak that Ara had pulled out of the closet for you. “Take me with you.”
He looked down at you, then let out an ambiguous chuckle. “You think if I take you with me out there, you will find a way to escape? You can put that idea right out of your mind. As a mortal, there are more gruesome fates than falling into the river of oblivion that will await you when you roam out there freely all by yourself. This is the underworld, after all.”
It didn’t pass by you that he, for the first time, used the term ’mortals’, not ‘humans’, a fine but significant difference. You wondered whether not all gods and sprites and whatever creatures also resided here were immortal. And if he was immortal too.
It was as though he could read everything shooting through your mind at that moment. Skepticism, anger, disappointment, then again, hope. He had seen right through you. But perhaps not entirely though as there was something he hadn’t discovered yet: the slight seed of curiosity that had been planted by the god of sun yesterday.
What was beyond the river that you were supposedly looking for? 
“Still,” you brought yourself to say and clenched your fists, moving your feet in restlessness.  “Take me with you. What am I supposed to do here all day, all by myself?” 
“No,” the god roared, deep and dominant, and you actually withdrew in response to his suppressed outburst. Regret turned visible in his expression as though he hadn’t intended to sound so harsh as he continued gentler, “No mortal has ever roamed the grounds of hell, and I won’t be the first one to allow one to do so.”
But you wouldn’t give in so easily. “Take me with you nonetheless!” You took a few steps forward until you stood right in front of him and with your fists, you now hammered against his chest. “Take. Me. With. You!” 
Coming down at his strong muscles with your hands over and over again, it felt like striking against those palace stone walls, sharp pain shooting up to your shoulders with each forceful motion, and it made you even madder. You now screamed, wanting your way and letting your anger and despair all out - but he withstood it all.
Even when you exhausted yourself, you didn’t give up, even when your motions grew slower and sloppier, your breathing more irregular. That was until he caught your striking fists with his palms, stopping your rebelling behavior with a single grip, obviously fed up now. His hands were so big in comparison to yours, and so unexpectedly warm and strong too.
“You done?” the god asked relaxedly when you had finally stopped fidgeting.
You had your teeth bared, glaring at him, but you weren't physically fighting anymore. Your chest heaved up and down, in unison with his, and for a moment, you both had your gazes locked, surveying each other until a smile raised the corners of his mouth, and it wasn’t in the least bit mocking.
You became aware of the fact that the god was still holding your hands, but it was something entirely else from when the sun god had taken yours into his. They were both gestures with different intentions, but somehow, this one caused your cheeks to heat and change color, and additionally, your heart to skip half a beat. 
With feigned disgust, you scowled and shook him off, then hid your arms behind your back in the safety of the cloak.
“I’ll get the horse prepared for two people.” The god looked at you for a second too long, which irritated you very much, then spun around. You didn’t know what had made him change his mind, but in the end, it didn’t matter. “Pull up the hood and make sure to protect your face at all times. The ride can get really dusty.”
As you followed him outside, there was a black-maned horse waiting for you both. You stood behind him, intimidated and amazed by the enormous animal at the same time. 
“Immortal horses are fascinating, aren’t they?” he asked you. “Every god owns at least one divinely-bred.”
He swung upon the horse’s back after a servant had saddled it properly for two, moving backwards to leave more space in the front. The next moment, he had grabbed you by your waist and heaved you on the horse’s back like you weighed nothing. Luckily, your skirts were wide enough for you to settle your legs on either side of the animal. 
The god then hauled you against his chest with one swift motion, his strong forearm pressed into your upper stomach. Before you could snap for air, he loosened his grip on you again, but left his hand resting right under your ribcage, always on the alert to secure your position if you tended to teeter too much to one side. You swallowed hard as the horse started galloping, and before you could notice, the both of you had already crossed the dangerous bridge with its eerie turquoise water, snippets flashing by that you only caught from the corner of your periphery under your wide hood. 
You knew your attention shouldn’t be on the main rider’s free hand gripping hard on the reins that made his veins pop out and your thoughts spinning with fantasies you had never had of him before, but you couldn’t turn your thoughts away from it either. Pleasant goosebumps ran all down your spine whenever you lost your balance for a second and his strong arm around your middle reared you right back.
You didn’t want this. Of course, as a young woman, you had needs and also a fair share of past experiences, but none of it had ever surfaced since you were residing here.
Until now.
____
While you were riding along the rolling plains, you came to a terrifying solution: The redness of the sky didn’t come from the sun and neither from another natural source of light in the underworld that would resemble a planet back up there on earth. In fact, they came from fields far out there close to the horizon. These fields were burning, flames ascending to the sky whose tips you only witnessed when you passed and eventually came to a stop close by.
“These are the torture fields,” the god told you. “It’s where souls reside who I refuse to let be reborn. As you might have figured by now, it’s why our sky is always red. The flames never diminish, they only get concealed by the god of sky during night time upon my request.”
“Why did you request for him to conceal it?”
“The red sky reminds me of what I’m doing, what my destiny as the god of the underworld is. If I can request for a few hours of peace where I’m not reminded of the souls on the torture fields that I sent down there myself, that I am the one causing this red sky, I would do anything for it.”
It was the second time he willingly let you take a quick glance behind his facade, his cold and dark exterior. You wondered whether there was still way more you would need to discover. But would you really want to?
“What’s the fate of those on these torture fields?” you asked instead.
“Imagine the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Maybe you have once broken a bone or sustained a similar fracture. Now, that’s not even the full extent of pain a human is able to feel. Multiply it by a thousand. That’s close to the pain you have to endure day and night, for all eternity. Frightening, isn’t it?”
Frightening didn’t even come close to describe the lump in your throat right now. A cold shudder ran down your spine despite you putting much effort into not letting your true emotions slip. “Do they literally burn there on the fields?”
“Something like that, yes. If you listen carefully, little rose, you can even hear their screams. My palace is located too far away, but right now, we’re close enough to hear their faint noises.” He brought the horse to a halt and gave you a sign to remain silent as well. “Listen.”
You did. From the direction of the torture fields, you heard a feeble clamor as though someone was constantly pressing on a piano’s keyboard, and the tone never subsided. It was a very faint sound, but so eerie that it made the hair on your arms stand up. You imagined pain so gravely, you were never able to stop screaming in agony despite the exhaustion. For all eternity.
“Don’t worry, little rose,” the god reassured you, and you didn’t flinch when he soothingly nudged your side. It had something calming to it. “Someone like you won’t ever land on the torture fields.”
You wished you could believe him and gulped, hard. “What kind of souls would find their fate here?”
“Murderers mostly, to summon it up. But I decide over all their fates individually, so it might also be possible that someone has committed a grave crime that doesn’t include murder and still ends up on the torture fields. And vice versa.”
You had been holding in your breath and only noticed when you let out a rush of air. “I see.”
“Why are you so tense, little rose?” the god expressed his concern that seemed genuine to you. “Someone as pure as you and with a heart as strong as yours would surely get another chance at life.”
“You don’t know me,” you answered repellently, but didn’t shake off his hand that had magically found its way on your shoulder as though he wanted to comfort you physically like a human, but didn’t exactly know how. “You know nothing about me, you cannot tell.”
“That’s true. But I cannot imagine you being a human who deserves to experience endless torture, and I’ve been with my duties for way longer than I can remember.”
“Perhaps, there are times where even you will get surprised.” It was intended to be a joke, but your dry voice didn’t make the sentence sound like one, which was why you added a light, choking laughter. 
“What could you have possibly done? Slept with someone before marriage? Screw that, just have fun. Stolen groceries? A peccadillo, nothing grave to be noted down, and even minuscule when you were poor and suffering from hunger. What else? Hurt someone? Most people only physically hurt when they feel threatened or have been hurt themselves before. I could tell you many, many more examples that won’t justify a destiny on the torture fields for you.”
You weren’t an appropriate girl in any sense as you had done all of the things he listed, and even many more. Feeling bound to your family for your whole life, you had never quite treasured your virginity until marriage like every other girl and had had way too much fun in the miller’s barn with his eldest son before you came here. Whenever you seemed short of groceries, you had developed a few tricks where letting fruits and vegetables slip into your bag during market visits always went unnoticed. And you randomly and happily thought back to the time you had once smacked a boy who had made fun of your sister and your situation.
And the god of the underworld wanted to tell you that these were all still justifiable? 
“No human is untainted, free of sins, little rose,” he continued. “But that doesn’t make every person a bad one. As a matter of fact, the majority are good people, and I can sense them from a mile away. You’re not a bad person who deserves to endure agony for eternity.”
You rather let him believe for as long as he could.
Though he added, “Everything will come out in the hall of judgment anyway.”
“The hall of judgment?” you asked carefully.
“Where we’re headed to now. That’s where I comply with my duties as the god of the underworld.” As though he noticed your disarray, he added with an edge, “You wanted to come with me, right? So be prepared for that.”
Nothing could have prepared you for what was about to come next.
____
The hall of judgment was a massive cave rather than an actual hall in the semi-darkness of a mountain range that had the river of oblivion flow through. The hollowed ceiling was carried by large pillars merging seamlessly with the stony inside, a long carpet indicating the way. There were only several candles alit, the flames mirrored and broken in the river that threw the reflected lighting into all directions. 
You were sitting next to the god on a throne of which you were unsure whether it had been there for your entire stay already as he had initially intended you to be his wife. Nonetheless, it made you feel inquisitive and intimidating at the same time, as though you didn’t belong there but couldn’t request being placed elsewhere either.
“This is where the souls face me, where I decide about their fate. And today, you will assist me,” the god explained after he had settled next to you.
“Assist you?” You weren’t repressed, but rather intrigued about what was going to happen here.
“You’re not going to watch me only, you’re going to judge yourself, whether you send a soul into the river of oblivion from where they will start a new life or send them to the torture fields for eternal pain.”
You frowned, full of suspicion whether you had heard right. “Pardon me? I will decide about their fate? Me?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed with a proud smile.
You raised a brow, but didn’t refuse instantly, to your very own surprise too. “How do I know what happened to them?”
“They will tell you.”
“And if they don’t speak the truth?”
“In the hall of judgment, you are only allowed to speak the truth, otherwise you cannot answer.”
You had many more questions, but since you had already delayed your arrival, you decided to remain silent and just watch. You trusted him to tell you what to do and when to do, and until then, you would only observe. To your clear surprise, a human in its physical shape walked in the next moment, a young boy, not even ten years of age just yet. Just like your sister. 
“They all remain in their human form so as to not shock them,” the god explained quietly while the boy made its way towards you. “They will lose their physical shape once I make my judgment, but by then, they won’t remember anymore.”
Your expression changed from perplexity to empathy when you encountered the state the young boy was in, ragged clothes, no shoes. He explained that he came right from the streets, having lived there for a few years already.
The child was nervously kneading his wrinkled hat in his hands as he stuttered, “M-my father died overseas w-when I was only a baby. My- my mother was the sole one t-to get us through the first years. U-until we ran out of money. Sh-she died shortly after and I… I had to start living on the streets a-all by myself.”
“For how many years did you live on the streets?” you asked empathically, not knowing whether you were even allowed to, but it didn’t matter to you at this point. You felt so much sympathy for him, your heart ached.
The boy dropped his head. “Three years.”
You gasped inaudibly, not wanting to unsettle the boy. Instead, you forced yourself to smile, the sorrow undertone hidden by concealing happiness. “You did well. For your age, you did so well. You can be proud of yourself. Your mother surely is too.”
“C-can I ask how did I die?”
“You slept in peacefully and didn’t wake up,” you started, and the god frowned, but didn’t interrupt you, which you appreciated. ”It was really cold, but it didn’t bother you, because for you, it felt like a warm blanket that you got enveloped in. Perhaps, almost like the one in your former home with which your mom would tuck you in. Did you have something like that?”
With sparkles in his eyes, the boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I remember!”
“Very well. That moment, you dreamed back to your warm house where there were the three of you. You died peacefully, engulfed in a dream that felt like reality.”
The boy started crying, and you wanted to get up with the intention of offering him a comforting embrace, but the god’s hand latched out onto yours, holding you back. Locking your gazes, he shook his head and you slowly settled back on your throne. “Dead souls cannot be touched,” he whispered only for you to hear. “Otherwise they are doomed to wander these lands forever as nightmarish creatures.”
“W-what w-ill m-m-my judgment b-be?” the boy hiccuped as you shifted your attention back to him.
You held yourself back this time to leave the decision to the god himself, but he remained quiet, only giving you a squeeze with his fingers that were still covering yours, both of your hands lying on your side of the armrest. Then, he nodded encouragingly.
So you spoke softly, “You will get to leave this miserable life behind. You will get to start a new life. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”
“Thank you.”
And while he was still expressing his gratitude, the god caught you shedding some light tears yourself, but you were smiling throughout them in all honesty, because you were so happy that the little boy wouldn’t need to continue living in a world that had been so cruel to him.
When the boy followed a servant to the outside after the god had officially pronounced the sentence that you had decided on, he started explaining, “The moment they step into the hall, I know their backstories, I have to tell you. They only explain their own opinion and point of view to me. Since you don’t have that privilege, I let them tell their backstories too. For the little boy, he actually died wh-”
“No,” you declined determinedly, emphasized by the shake of your head. “I don’t want to know. Perhaps, you don’t understand, but I’m not immune to feelings unlike you who has been doing this for so long. There is only so much I can take in and carry before every single story will break me apart over and over again. Perhaps, it’s better this way, safer. I want to stand by the stories I tell them.”
“I’m not immune either.” The look you shared that followed was something between surprise and a mutual understanding, until he followed up, “So you want to remain?” 
“I want to remain.”
In a gesture of encouragement, he squeezed your hand again, only now realizing that he hadn’t let go of it all along and that you hadn’t shaken him off, either.
____
By the evening, the god of the underworld had pronounced the sentence to all souls, you only chiming in when it was a case you could relate to, a case which needed a more emotional approach. In the beginning, it had been an overwhelming feeling for you, holding one’s destiny in your hands as the god of the underworld complied to all the judgments you made without a word of protest. 
It made you feel… powerful. And helpful, equally. You were able to take the pain away from these sad souls and plant a more pleasant last memory of their former life into their invisible hearts. No matter the real circumstances of their deaths, you always spun stories more pleasant for their ears, so the majority of souls were allowed to jump into the pool of oblivion, looking forward to a new life.
“My wife killed me, that bitch.” A middle-aged man spat in front of the dais later that day. “I should have taken her with me.”
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your thigh as you pricked up your ears. It was late already, and you started to get exhausted which was why the god had suggested going home after this case. Though this case would turn out way more different than the ones before, you could solely tell by looking at the man.
His obvious rampant demeanor had caught your attention right away, so you asked calmly, “Tell me in detail, what did you do to your wife?”
"Nothing!" he defended himself loudly. “I did no-”
You remembered that no one was able to lie in the hall of judgment which was apparently why no tone came out of his mouth anymore despite him continuing blabbering. You averted your eyes to your right, wanting to know how the god would react. 
You didn’t expect anything less than the following, “You really dare lie in front of the god of the underworld himself?”
“Please!” The man dropped to his knees and brought his hands together under his chin. “I did nothing wrong in my opinion!”
“How about we let your mistress decide whether you did something wrong to your wife, hm?” the god asked threateningly, his eyes narrowed.
“I only wanted to teach her a lesson,” the man pressed through gritted teeth. “If she hadn’t stayed out for so long, I wouldn’t have had to use my hands.”
Your fingers cramped around the armrests, uneasiness settling in where also nausea spread in your stomach, but the latter way faster. You already knew the end to the story before he could draw the entire outline. Again, like before when you had met cases that left you nearly breathless, the god’s palm found its way back to your hand, blanketing it, and his warmth somehow soothed your anger, restraining it. Somehow, you felt it had the same effect on him.
“How often did you hurt your wife?” you wanted to hear from the man.
“As often as I needed to.” There was no remorse in his voice. “Wives have to be obedient to their husbands, and if they aren’t, we have to remind them of our higher position.”
Anger burned in your veins, the knuckles on your fingers turning white, and even the god’s reassuring gesture could not hold you back from what you were about to say next anymore, “So you think lowly of women because we are female?”
“It’s what nature prescribes!” the man yelled.
“Do you have children?” you interrogated further, your fingers shaking by now. You were so close to jumping off your seat and physically taking it upon yourself.
“My wife never gifted me with one,” he tsk-ed. “Another task in which she has failed me as a woman.”
A growl was collecting on your tongue, and you nearly let the sound slip if it weren’t for the god cutting you off, “And yet, after your death, you stand in front of one. And this very one is deciding about your fate today.”
“Oh?” The man took a step back. “Forgive me, I haven’t known.”
“How about you tell your mistress about the child you deemed unfitting to continue living, no matter how hard it was for your wife to even conceive in the first place? Or the bar woman you impregnated instead, but chased away because you rather wanted to spend the money on alcohol? Or the rich man you once robbed and killed, all in one night?”
You didn’t need to put a second thought into your decision. He sounded exactly like the kind of man your father had been - ruthless, selfish, and so full of apathy, your chest swelled to the point of exploding.
“To the torture fields with him.”
It was the first time for you to use these words, you didn’t recognize your own voice.
____
You sent a man to the torture fields and you enjoyed it.
Even after returning to the palace, you still weren’t able to digest the latest happenings. Again. And again, like in the past, you didn’t feel any remorse afterwards. You felt satisfaction even.
“Is it always like this?” you asked when you stood in the entrance hall of the dark palace. “This lingering feeling of…”
“... satisfaction.” A slight smirk was playing around the god’s lips when he looked at your eager expression. “Yes. It absolutely is.”
“Wow,” you breathed, overwhelmed by so much power you had never imagined of ever possessing. “But… what if I made the wrong decision?”
Was that what the sun god had wanted you to see? A side inside of you that you had repressed for so long? The potential you offered when you were sitting on the throne right next to the god of the underworld?
“There is no right or wrong in the hall of judgment. There is only one truth. And the truth in that case was that you passed judgment on someone who deserved their fate.” He inhaled deeply before breaking down to you, “That is why I want to offer you the throne next to mine.”
Your head snatched upwards and you drew your brows together in suspicion. “What are you saying?”
“I offer you the title ‘the queen of the underworld’,” he repeated more clearly, gaze unwavering but not inscrutable. He meant every single syllable, no underlying joke in his voice, the smirk entirely gone and his dark eyes clear. 
“I’m not going to be your wife,” you declined immediately again, your voice failing you though, and you were afraid he’d notice.
“I don’t want you to become my wife in that sense if you find that thought so repulsive.” There was a chuckle simultaneously rolling from his tongue. “I offer you the position of the queen of the underworld. I offer you half my kingdom, a throne next to mine and a crown made of darkness, just like mine.”
You stood in front of him, feeling very lost at that moment, but also very intrigued. The words that he uttered, you had never dared to even take them into your mouth, let alone speaking them out. “I-” You opened your mouth, but no refusal came out this time. 
You wanted to reason with your mother and sister, but living here had made you realize that they were probably better off without you if they were going to get taken care of with gold to last generations. If you would ever get the chance to return to earth, you would need to get married to someone you probably loathed and lived a boring life as a housewife.
Then, you wanted to argue with the fact that you missed the sun, nature, flowers and everything earth offered to you. But did you really? On earth, flowers withered at the end of every summer, months of coldness dominating your part of the world for the majority of the year. You started to question whether you would have lived a fulfilling life if you had continued like this, only looking forward to spring and rotting away in boredom when the world got blanketed with snow, fighting for survival, year after year.
Here in the underworld, there were no such things as seasons. The darkness might have appeared threatening at the beginning, but you had slowly started to grow accustomed to the different lightning and the constant pleasant temperature. By now, you had also found beauty in the absolute darkness of the night and the sunset-like sky during daytime. 
A conflict spread out inside of you that you had never imagined of ever leading. Had you already found your true fate back then on earth or have you always been destined for more in another world? 
“You only want me to stay because you feel lonely, that’s why you’re offering me the throne,” was your feeble attempt of rejection. “But I’m not like you, Jaehyun. I cannot live this life here.”
“You are very much like me, little rose,” Jaehyun corrected with a growing, new smile you couldn’t define, and then reminded you, ”Did you forget that destiny doesn’t only mean endless torture? The little boy who you sent into the river of oblivion, he will get the chance to start a new life, leaving the one behind in which he only experienced sorrow and suffering. How did you feel at that moment? Didn’t you feel helpful, relieved or even happy for him? Because that’s what will also be required of you as the queen of the underworld. You’re an executor and a savior both at the same time. You’ll be the most powerful queen to ever exist.”
“T-tell me,” you stuttered, “t-tell me the truth. That day… it might have been a coincidence that you were near me, but what made you choose me?”
It couldn’t have been a coincidence only. There must be more to it. There must be a reason you were here now, a sign that this was your fate for which you had always been destined. It would give you the ultimate assurance, a reason less to doubt your entire existence.
“Aren’t you one sneaky little thing, my rose? I wanted to tell you that day already, but you weren’t ready to hear.” Jaehyun stretched out his hand and let the tip of his index finger run along your chin. You shuddered - in full pleasure so obvious, he must have felt it too. And he must have also felt your disappointment when he withdrew his hand again. “Before you appeared here… I mean, before I stole you - pardon me - I was very lonely. So I asked for one day on earth to search for a fitting wife as I haven’t found one among my own kind. But who I got drawn to, precisely by their sugary scent that even overshadowed the flowers and morning dew wrapped pollen on the fingers, wasn’t a timid daisy in a bed full of asters. It was a rose itself who harbored thorns, and I believe, deep within, I knew all along that I finally found someone not only fit to warm my bed, but to reign alongside me. Seldomly have I met someone so strong-willed and fierce like you, lest a mortal. If you decide against the crown of immortal flowers that I offer you, it will be really unfortunate for me as I paid a huge price for getting you.”
You gulped. “...Which price?” 
“I will never be allowed on earth again.”
You understood why he wanted a companion as you couldn’t imagine living at such a huge place all by yourself either. The corridors were long, dark and branched, servants strictly following their duties and always keeping their distance to their master despite him treating them respectfully. Then, there were the endless rolling plains with nothing but dust and nightmarish creatures. The darkness from the underworld must have taken over his heart a long time ago as well, and he was looking for a glimmer of light.
You just weren’t sure whether you were the right one. He hadn’t been able to give you the entire reassurance you still needed.
“That’s unfortunate,” you brought yourself to say eventually. “But I can’t.”
A strand of your hair got lifted up, and he twirled it around his finger, observing it closely and seemingly enjoying the softness that curled around his skin. You had never seen him so at your mercy and apologetic before. “I only had one chance that would define my own destiny which will last an eternity. If I made the wrong choice in selecting you, I am deeply sorry. If there was more that I could tell you, I would. But there isn’t. You were there, and I wanted you. Why don’t you want me too, little rose?”
Your breathing came in hitches. “What would that make me, Jaehyun?”
Leaving your family behind to live in sin here in the underworld. It would make you an outcast, someone expelled from society, someone with no dignity. But then again, when had you ever been someone who was worth more on earth? Weren’t you exactly where you were supposed to be, where darkness reigned like the one which occupied your heart ever since that fateful day a century ago?
Jaehyun’s hand was now on the side of your face, and you fought the urge to nestle against his palm. You relished the feeling the tip of his thumb made when he brushed it over your cheek though, and you wanted more of it, all over your body precisely. You just knew it would be entirely different than what you had experienced with mortal men before. But then again - what would that make you?
“It would make you a human,” Jaehyun calmed you, his expression smoothening despite the obvious threat on his throat. “Just like you are. Don’t you ever forget that. You are allowed to accept every part of you, to feel everything you’re harboring.”
“But it’s just… so hard,” you whispered, unsure what he was even talking about anymore, you being queen or the possibility of you two sharing more than the throne, but also a bed.
“You are a constellation, waiting to be explored and loved. Did any man who ever tried to court you understand that you were so much more than a maiden hidden away in her house’s backyard? Because I understand.” 
There was something glittering in his eyes despite stars being absent here. You opened your lips and closed them again, fighting so hard against the need of wanting them to taste his. 
“You fought so bravely against it. You can allow yourself to finally let go, little rose,” Jaehyun encouraged you with a low whisper. Again, you were questioning whether he actually meant the darkness in your heart or the need of his lips covering yours.
“I-I-...” You let out a long breath that you had been holding in this entire time and took a step back, away from him and from his alluring appearance. “I’m tired. I will return to my chambers.”
You almost stumbled over your own feet running to your chamber, setting one hasty foot after another. When you reached your room, you locked the door behind you as though you were afraid he might follow you and barge in.
As you laid in your bed shortly later, you caught yourself wishing he had done so. And you also caught yourself having naturally addressed him by his name somewhere along the way.
Like he wasn't a distant god or master anymore. But an equal.
____
“Do humans live with you?” you asked Taeyong the next day after encountering him in the garden, joking around with the servants. 
Apparently, he had had a few duties close by and decided to pay the dark palace a visit. As it came to your attention through him a short while ago, Jaehyun’s palace was described as such by outsiders. 
Taeyong laughed, but the smile that he forced himself to wear meanwhile wasn’t sincere. “No, I don’t support this kind of lifestyle.”
“Why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m on your side, but why does your opinion differ from the other gods?”
“The woman I love is a human, what would that make me, abusing her own kind?”
The pain in his voice couldn’t be ignored, it was too obvious, intended or unintended. But it was not the kind of pain a rejected lover would express. “So you’re in love with a mortal, I see.”
“Not just a mortal, a human,” he corrected. “We gods are all immortal, but there are other creatures such as sprites who are also otherworldly, but can indeed die, so they’re mortal. Some humans here have also gained immortality. Mortals and humans are not the same term.”
He confirmed what you had suspected all along. Finally, you understood why Jaehyun had always spoken about humans only and not about mortals when addressing your kind. It was because in the dark palace, he was the only immortal one. 
“I understand. Then… tell me about her, Taeyong. What makes you so sad about her?”
“The fact that I don’t want to love her, and she doesn’t want me to love her either, but I would even give up on my immortality just to be with her. I would instantly go and trade my immortality despite a god never having done that before, and I don’t even know whether it’s possible, but if, I would in a heartbeat.”
The way he spoke about her, soft and passionate, reminded you of the way Jaehyun spoke to you lately, and suddenly yearning tugged on your heartstring, even though he was only a few yards away from you inside the palace.
“It must be a huge sacrifice for a god to be willing to give up their immortality for a human. It sounds like you sincerely love her.”
“I don’t love her sincerely,” Taeyong continued bluntly, shocking you. But a tinge of the same yearning resonated in his tone too, so you were truly confused about his contradicting reaction. “It’s not the kind of love I wish upon anyone. I haven’t chosen her, but every fiber of my heart longs for her love. One day, it will tear me entirely apart. It will be the day she dies.”
You frowned. “I don’t think I understand…”
“I’m cursed by the god of love. Ironic, isn’t it?” He let out a laugh, but it didn’t sound amused at all, bitter even. “I’m cursed to love her until the end of days, and she’s cursed to not reciprocate it.”
It sounded so sad and unfortunate to you, you didn’t quite know what to say. “I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how painful it must be to feel and live like this. And what would happen if she died one day? Would he continue loving her and longing for her when all traces of her had evaporated, for all eternity? You repeated, this time much more sensitively, “I’m so sorry, Taeyong.”
“Now, don’t look so sad, there is nothing to be sad about,” Taeyong tried to cheer you up. “I have arranged myself to live like this. That’s why I think you’re very lucky.”
“Me?” You pointed at yourself. “Why should I be?”
“Because humans still know what true love is. They can decide on who to be with, who to open their hearts to, who to let in. Most gods solemnly seek for the comfort of a warm body next to them at any given time, or marry only out of convenience. Some gods are cursed, just like me, some even happen to face a worse fate. Only the minority don’t seek for a puppet or an arrangement, but a real partner. Like Jaehyun.”
You sneered. “According to everyone else, he’s one of the most powerful gods in your entire realm. Why would he care for a real partner, a human even?”
“You don’t know him very well, do you? He might have only searched for a timid wife to sit next to him in the throne hall and perhaps show him a bit of affection. But that would have never been enough for him, and he always knew, otherwise he would have picked the first human he saw.”
“All I’m saying is,” you defended your opinion, “I might not be the right person for whatever he requires of me.”
Taeyong shrugged, but not with an indifferent intention. “You might be the exact right person for this as he doesn’t require anything from you except for you just to be you.”
“Why would you say that?” you sighed, distressed.
“Jaehyun traded his permission to be allowed on earth to find you. It was risky and stupid, I can admit that, but at least he went after what he had been searching for this entire time. It impresses me very much. Doesn’t it impress you too?”
“That’s not a good enough reason. He only had one shot,” you tried to understand. “And he picked me. What if he chose wrong?”
“That is your perception.” Taeyong smiled, no trace of sadness anymore. “Mine is that he was a lonely man looking at a million women in the span of half a day. And he didn’t need to look at a million other women and take the remaining hours to settle with the last possible option out of pure panic, because he ran out of time. He went for what caught his eye, felt right to him and gave him hope. Isn’t that a good enough reason?”
You fell into silence. 
“Ah, I must go now. But just let me tell you this one last thing.” You raised your brows in expectation, watching Taeyong shift around and seamlessly continuing without looking back, “Jaehyun is the god of the underworld. Never has he made a wrong decision.”
You wished you didn’t believe him.
____
Jaehyun probably knew it the moment you walked into the great hall that day. He probably saw it in the nervous flickers of your eyes, he probably smelled it in the light sheen of sweat glistening around your cleavage, probably heard it in the ragged breaths of your lungs. 
You had come to kill him. 
But he didn’t say a single word.
Your walk wasn’t as determined and full of confidence as usual, the steps barely heard as though you might change your mind every second. The silver blade was glistening between your fingers and then slipped up your sleeve again in hope he hadn’t seen.
“Did you think about my offer, little rose?” Jaehyun asked almost nonchalantly as he moved on his throne, but didn’t descend. 
Today, he was wearing his dark crown at home again. Ironically, on his death day too, you thought silently to yourself. “Yes,” you announced and let your head drop when you stood in front of him. “I can’t.”
“And why is it that you think that you can’t? You’re a human, someone with a free will. We gods don’t have that.”
“It’s because I have a free will that I decide against your offer.”
“Very well. I accept that.” He let out a long sigh that didn’t sound in the least bit agitated though. “If you ever change your mind while you’re still here, I am willing to get back to my offer.”
“I’m afraid there is not enough time.”
Then you lashed out, and the  next moment, he had a knife to his throat, blood spilling where the blade cut into his skin. It was only lightly, but enough to tear apart even the sheerest of paper. You didn’t dare to push deeper, your trembling fingers clinging onto the handle when you settled on his lap with your legs locking him in place on either side.
“Why don’t you stab me?” Jaehyun whispered, not moving a single inch.
You were aware he couldn’t die, not from your mortal hands. This action was your feeble attempt and last resort of holding onto something you should have left behind the moment you had stepped into the darkness: humanity. If you stabbed him, you wouldn’t feel the same as with your father back then. If you stabbed him, you would feel remorse, and that would remind you that you were still all that - a human.
You ground your teeth, breathing irregularly while having difficulties remaining the knife in its position. Jaehyun was still sitting quietly beneath you, looking up at you with expectant eyes that didn’t mirror anything like reproach or anger. He knew you wouldn’t do that, he knew that exactly, and that fueled your despair even more, because, in the end, you had known all along too.
“You can defy everything, little rose, even me,” Jaehyun muttered, stretching out his hand that then touched a strand of your hair and gently tucked it behind your ear. “But the truth is that you want me, and this life. And it’s killing you. Not me.”
You had never wanted to be anything less than extraordinary, but no one had ever told you that you could possibly be bound for so much greater either. Restless in your own world, you had tended flowers day for day, wondering if there was more to life than the one you were living. You had always been subconsciously rattling on the invisible chains of simplicity, boredom and too much comfort, struggling to let go fully.
And now he, the god of the underworld himself, was pressed into the throne in front of you, not fighting back under the threat of your knife, even though he was able to unalive you with only the flick of his finger. He was patiently waiting for your decision, had seen and fostered your potential from the very beginning.
You weren’t a timid little flower in the backyard anymore. 
You were the dangerous seeds of pomegranates. 
“Tell me, little rose, will you accept even the darkest parts of you like I do?”
A few beats of silence passed by where Jaehyun only heard your rattled breathing going hand in hand with the erratic rhythm of your chest heaving up and down, until the knife dropped to the dais with a loud noise. His fingers grazed over your scalp, settling there shortly before they grabbed a bundle of hair, preparing to haul you to him.
But he didn’t need to. Willingly, you leaned down, stopping right before your lips touched his, wavering in that moment a little too long. Jaehyun’s fingers slipped from the back of your head past your ear, touching your cheek. He was so close, you could feel his breath stroking your chin as his finger tips slid further, trailing over your bottom lip.
Your eye contact was so strong and more intense unlike anything you had ever experienced before. He was exploring the deepest parts of your soul with his gaze only, making you wonder how much longer it would take Jaehyun to unravel all of you without even having touched you more intimately.
Instinctively, you parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb past them. With the tip of your tongue, you licked over his skin, then started sucking on his finger. This gesture had something so tainted yet intimate to it, you feared that he might withdraw right away, but the look in his eyes and his own slightly agape mouth only reassured you of the fact that he found it as seductive as you. 
But Jaehyun was still awaiting your answer before it was processed. You were sure though that whatever would start to happen next, it would be world-destructive in so many senses. You only hoped you would be prepared for it.
You sucked in a huge breather and Jaehyun retracted his hand from your mouth as he assumed you wanted to say something. There was much expectation lying behind his awaiting eyes, even though you both knew by now what your answer would be.
“Beg.”
Jaehyun cocked a brow. “Pardon?”
“Beg for it.”
You could clearly see the struggle in his eyes, and even a touch of indignation, but as he saw how serious you were about it, he apparently swallowed all his pride.
“Please,” he growled lowly. “Be my queen.”
“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you finally whispered as you hovered above him with not much resistance.
At this moment, you laid bare in front of him, with your soul and mind at his mercy, and he could do anything he wanted with it. 
But he didn’t. 
Instead, Jaehyun let you come forward and close the last remaining space between the two of you as you pressed your lips against his, reassuring him of your words’ honesty. You had made your decision, and you were willing to take everything that came along with it - including the god of the underworld himself.
Suddenly, Jaehyun gasped in shock when he tasted something familiar on your tongue. 
There it was.
Pulling away, he snatched your hand, spotting red stains on the tips of your fingers and whispering breathlessly, “Pomegranate seeds.” And then louder, “You ate pomegranate seeds!”
You clarified, “Seven of them, to be exact.”
By the way he examined your lips and licked over his own, he must by now also spot and taste the red seeds on your own mouth that had passed by him before. 
"You deceived me,” Jaehyun realized. “You never needed me to beg for you to be queen.”
“I needed to be sure you truly meant it,” you disclosed the truth to him. “Whether you would be able to lay your title aside for me and open up to me about what you truly want, as a man and not as a king. Whether you would see me as an equal.”
He hesitated. “What if I had said no?”
One edge of your mouth curved upwards. “From the very beginning, I knew you wouldn’t.”
“How lucky you are, as a queen isn’t to be opposed,” he then said with a smirk, “she’s to be obeyed and worshiped.”
When your lips came together again and his hands grabbed hard on the tender flesh of your buttocks, you were both aware that you had never needed to be convinced to stay with him in the first place.
_____
Jaehyun’s hands weren’t on your face anymore as his mouth gave you all the attention you needed there, lips and tongue deep inside you. Instead, you felt his palms pressing into your exposed thighs after he had successfully and nearly imperceptibly pulled your skirts up, skin grazing against skin, his touch causing you to shudder with craving so unfathomable, you believed you were going to burst. This time, from bliss only.
His tongue outlined the form of your lips, your mouth then again melting into the kiss you two were sharing, so passionate and full of yearning as though you had been waiting a lifetime for only this moment. In both of your cases, it was applicable - the god of the underworld who had been alone all along, and a mortal girl who was bound for so much more than a simple life on earth.
Your back arched into Jaehyun’s body when his hands wandered upwards and curled into the curve of your spine, his fingers dancing across the naked skin under all the fabric which hung flattery around your figure. Without breaking your kiss, you gripped onto the very first button of his black shirt and undid it, your hands stained with the blood of the wound that you had caused earlier.
Snapping back to reality, you bounced back with a gasp, inspecting Jaehyun’s neck that now looked surprisingly unscathed where your knife had once slid through, only the spilled blood remaining. “Wha-”
“We gods heal way faster than humans, because that’s what we are…” he explained patiently, “immortal.”
That was something you hadn’t put further thought into, but absolutely made sense considering that you technically couldn’t kill him. Somehow, a bad conscience still seeped into you, so you said, “I’m sorry” with much regret in your voice. 
“Don’t apologize, little rose,” was only his answer, adorned with a smile while his fingers fiddled with the collar around your cleavage. “You did what you had to do. It was important to me that you weighed all your options and still decided to be with me.”
Jaehyun tugged on your sleeves, pulling the upper part of your dress all the way down. The fabric settled around your hips with loud rusting, and only now you noticed that he had grown distinctively hard between your thighs. It aroused you very much as well, a cool breeze caressing your breasts and making your nipples turn hard. 
You had never carefully paid attention to what you considered flaws on your body, but the god sitting under you was incontrovertibly perfect and you, as a human, certainly didn’t perceive yourself in the same way. There was nothing to hide your naked body behind in this short span of doubt, but your shoulders slacked nonetheless, especially in this dominant position, and he noticed.
Jaehyun lifted you off his lap with a surprised sound falling from your lips. Your thighs were locked around his hips and you held onto him while he descended from the throne and placed you with your back on the carpet in front of the dais. With your arms slung across your chest while now lying in front of him, you tried to hide from him what you considered unpleasant for his eyes. You had never had this problem during your fleeting intimate encounterings before.
“Please don’t be insecure,” Jaehyun spoke gently, looming over you. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Oddly, you believed every single word and willingly freed your chest as your thoughts and worries started to leave your mind. His tongue flicked over your nipple and with a moan, you threw your head back against the carpet, your fingers buried in his thick hair which was free from a crown now, scratching his scalp when he decided to gently suck on your peaks in alternation. It made you grow hot and wet in your nether regions, and you started to ache with the need for release.
You whined when Jaehyun suddenly withdrew, but let out a yelp when he grabbed your thighs, yanking you towards him and burying his face between your legs under the many layers of your skirts. His tongue indulged you, making hard passes over your folds before flicking your clit over and over. You hadn’t known what to expect of a god, but literally devouring you kind of made sense now.
His tongue was long, wet and thick, and it slid over your exposed parts in delightful strokes, the groaning sounds Jaehyun made meanwhile vibrating through you and almost making you cum on spot if it weren’t for him deciding to use his lips next. They felt full and warm on your wetness when he sucked on you, and you calmed down a bit, moving your body to the same sensual rhythm as his caressing mouth. 
“You taste better than the pomegranate seeds,” Jaehyun told you when he appeared by your face again, licking over his wet lips. 
He wanted to prolong the act, but that didn’t withhold him from having fun, so he started playing with you through his rough fingers rubbing soft circles around your clit while observing you with a satisfied grin. These fingers then moved past your barrier and started to thrust inside of you, causing you to fidget with your legs, wanting to get rid of the dress that you suddenly didn’t see as a protection from your mortality anymore, but an annoyance.
Jaehyun, as though an expert in reading your needs now, helped you with that and dragged the entire dress down your legs, throwing it aside. You watched him then elegantly and calmly undressing himself too, and when he dropped on his knees in front of your spread legs, entirely naked, his appearance just took your breath away.
He was magnificent. And he had decided on you to make his queen. Out of all creatures, mortal and immortal, human and god, he had decided on you. Suddenly, you didn’t see it as a punishment anymore, but a blessing. You were so lucky.
Jaehyun positioned himself between your thighs, slowly stroking his length against your entrance that was already slick with precum. You guessed everything that worked for humans worked for gods too. And that also included pain as you hadn’t had sex in so long already.
There was indeed a pang as he pushed himself inside, but it lasted only the break of a second that he luckily didn’t catch before it melted into pleasure, and it was the kind of pleasure you hadn’t been able to ever fathom before. It felt like something fell into place, like finding something that you had grasp seeking for all your lifetime and had just now discovered.
The way he slid his length in, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, was what you would describe as pure bliss, the most decadent, indulgent pleasure you had ever felt. You reached down and grabbed his bum, pulling him into you so that he sank even deeper if that were even possible as he had already hit the brim.
“Already so insatiable, little rose?” Jaehyun groaned with an underlying chuckle, propping his hands against the carpet on either side of you. “Or should I call you ‘my queen’ from now on?” 
He wasn’t even expecting an answer as he knew your clear response to it. His first thrust then inside of you was already so powerful, it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. 
You weren’t his captive, nor his prisoner. He had never seen you as such. You were soon to be the queen by his side, his equal. Yet, all you wanted was him to fuck you senseless, devour you, ravage you, and worse. And you had the feeling that the god of the underworld wouldn’t mind doing all that as the sinister grin on his lips slightly gave away while you whispered almost absent-mindedly,
“More, more!”
Your fingers curled around the rug beneath you whenever he pulled back, his muscles straining and drawing in a deep breath before he slammed right back into you, causing you to gasp loudly, the echo getting carried across the wide hall. You hadn’t deemed it to be possible, but you swore that with every thrust, he drove in even deeper. A cry strangled in your throat, your vision rolling back as you had difficulties keeping eye contact with him. Your naked bodies moved together in unison despite you having feared at first that you might have forgotten how this act worked. 
For this being you two’s first joining, you didn’t feel inferior or controlled like in the past when you had used sex and everything forbidden only as a coping mechanism. Every noise you made, whether dry moaning or lustful cry, was because of pure pleasure, and Jaehyun always responded with a short pause where he looked you longingly in the eyes and halted his motions for a moment before starting off shallowly again as though he quite couldn’t believe you were there. You couldn’t either.
With each kiss, you felt adored. With each touch, you felt appreciated. With each thrust, you felt worshiped. It wasn’t only about him, but about you too, regardless of your human nature. 
Pleasure quickly started to build and grow within you, and you were afraid you were going to faint on the spot as Jaehyun’s rhythm changed and he picked up his pace. Your mortal body was supposedly too weak and too fragile to take everything he could give all at once despite you wanting to explore everything, all of it. 
But you couldn’t just yet, despite him clearly willing to give you all you needed, for as long as you wanted. If you continued, you feared you might really splinter and be impossible to put back together, dying right there in his arms, because the bliss was too much for a human to take in.
“Please,” you were the one begging now, your hands coming forward and clutching around his toned arm muscles. “I can’t anymore. I need to-”
“Very well, my queen.”
The new title was music to your ears, and the moment you saw stars exploding in front of your eyes, you also witnessed the sparkles merging and forging a crown made of darkness, just like his.
You were screaming and writhing under him, grabbing onto anything, something just to make sure that you would stay here and not fly off into another realm or worse, back to earth. But you were still with Jaehyun when you calmed down and his own orgasm ripped through him, the god of the underworld coming undone right above you.
His chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath, his toned body gleaming with sweat, but he still took his time to end your session with a kiss on your mouth that sealed the eternal proposal you had accepted.
“This is the only time I wouldn’t mind giving up power as a queen,” you reminded him as he pulled you to his chest, still there on the carpet. “Don’t you forget that.”
“Very well, my queen.”
You couldn’t see his face, but you felt his smile on you.
____
When you woke up the next morning, you only after a short while realized that you weren’t in your own chambers. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you remembered what happened after you had threatened Jaehyun with a knife. And after that. And after that again. And…
Each joining had lasted longer than the one before, him giving more and you taking more, until your experience wasn’t only earth-shattering, but also soul-rendering. Every session tightened the bond that had formed between the two of you even stronger, and you wondered how long it would take until it couldn’t break anymore. Perhaps, it had never been destructible to begin with.
You blinked against the dim reddish light and got into a seating position before observing the room that was almost identical to yours, probably just a bit bigger, furnished fuller and more luxuriously. 
“I figured you wanted to remain true to mortal customs.”
You hadn’t spotted Jaehyun sitting on the edge of the bed, hair messy and body bare safe from a pair of satin bottoms. Again, you remembered that on earth, you had never seen a human so beautiful like him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to believe there was.
“What do you mean?” you asked with a raspy voice, and he apparently found it endearing in the way he reacted to your question.
“I heard that on earth, after you propose marriage and the other person accepts, you’re engaged. That’s the time before the actual wedding, right? And that the woman is gifted a diamond ring. At least that’s what Taeyong told me.”
“That’s right,” you confirmed, but you had never seen a real diamond ring before. When people in your village got engaged, they usually bought a cheap ring or used an heirloom, but as you had never expected to get married, you had never put much thought into owning one yourself.
“I didn’t know which kind of stone you liked and neither which kind of cut you preferred, let alone the color,” Jaehyun spelled out, insecurity swinging in his undertone. “I spent the entire rest of the night only deciding on that.” He slid closer to you along the mattress which let you spot the softness in his voice resonating in the look of his eyes. “And then I came to the conclusion that all of that doesn’t matter. Trivial things like these don’t matter to you. But… I still wanted to give the mortal girl I stole from her family a diamond ring. Simply because she deserves it.”
From the corner of your periphery, you spotted something glittering. When he opened his palm fully, a dainty silver ring got revealed to you, a black diamond sitting on the very top. Its shape reminded you of a blossoming flower, held together by silvery thorns that twined along the outline. 
“It’s the shape of a rose,” Jaehyun explained, “cut of diamonds from deep inside the mountains where only the residing god has access to.”
A rose for his beloved little rose cut of stone in the same color as their hearts.
It was the most beautiful jewelry you had ever seen, one of those you usually only read about in fairytale books. Jaehyun reached out his hand and took yours into his, sliding the ring along the right finger until it sat perfectly where an engagement ring was supposed to be seen. You had never wanted to pay much attention to materialistic stuff, but as soon as you saw the diamond adorning your hand, you were flooded with so much pride and an overwhelming feeling of finally having found your place in this world that it drove tears into your eyes.
“Did… did I do something wrong?” Jaehyun suddenly sounded so worried and squeezed your fingers together, expressing his concern. “Isn’t it what you wanted? We can change the diamond, the color, or if you don’t want a ring at a-”
You shook your head. “It’s… it’s not that. The ring is perfect. This is perfect.”
“What is it then?” 
Pause. “I don’t want to be your queen.”
He let go of your hand, his forehead now in creases. “So, you don’t want to get married to me anymore?”
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t want to be your queen only.”
The frowns only deepened. “What are you saying?”
“At the beginning, you wanted me as your wife, but I refused. Later on, you said you were looking for a queen. I only accepted to be a queen, not a wife.”
“That is correct.”
“Ask me again.”
“What?”
You chuckled. “Ask me again.”
Jaehyun needed a moment to process, but then his eyes started to sparkle when it dawned on him what you were trying to ask of him. He then took your hand with the engagement ring back into his and held your fingers in front of his chest, the black rose diamond sparkling in the candlelight. 
“Will you marry me? Will you become my wife, loved and cherished every single day, and also become my queen, reigning over the underworld with me?”
Loved and cherished? You had never heard someone speaking these words in the same breath and directing them at you. And now you had the king of the underworld offering you more than you had ever thought possible on earth. He sealed his proposal with a kiss that he gently placed on the top of your knuckles, right by the diamond.
You let your fingers slip out of his palm and shifted your arm to sling them both around his neck. With a careful movement, you motioned in his direction, his hands on your waist guiding you until you settled on his lap, eye to eye with him.
“Will you love and cherish me always?” With your thumbs, you tenderly brushed over the back of his neck. “Whatever will happen?”
“I will always love and cherish my wife and queen,” he replied. “So please, marry me. And this is the only time I will ever beg again outside of the bedroom.”
He knew that you had always been meant for more than a silly, fragile doll of earth. And maybe, your family provided acceptance to the same extent, but you wanted pomegranates and death, and you craved the cruel shadows of the night. He saw more in you than a corrupted child of light, he saw a queen worthy of reigning alongside him. And you would gladly let him believe so.
“Yes,” you whispered before you leaned into his lips. “I will.”
The kiss was chaste and innocent, a stark contrast to the previous night, sealing a proposal you had never dreamed of receiving. To be loved and cherished until all eternity… you thought, despite the equal darkness in your heart, you could give all of this to him too. And eternity by his side didn’t sound so excruciating anymore.
“What is it?” Jaehyun halted in the middle of the kiss to look directly at you, his palms steadying either side of your face. “Is something wrong?”
You shook your head, taken aback by a warm feeling that suddenly spread from your lower stomach to the very tips of every limp. “Nothing.” Your fingers massaged the back of his head, his soft hair slipping through the gaps between them. “When are we getting married?”
“So impatient already?” He narrowed his eyes and tilted the corners of his lips up to an evil grin. “If you want to repeat last night, all you have to do is ask, anytime you want, anywhere you want.”
“As promising as it sounds… I’m serious,” you assured him. “When can we get married?”
“I stand by my answer, anytime you want.”
“Then tomorrow?”
“As you wish, my wife.”
____
You married the god of the underworld on a day when the sky was exceptionally red. Or so it seemed to you as your lips had been painted in the same promising color that resembled the dangerous pomegranate seeds as well.
You stood in a tiny, open chapel forged of stone in the middle of the mountains you always watched from Jaehyun’s chamber’s window where you had resided the past nights. Donned in black garments of the finest fabrics instead of pastels, you were facing and holding each other’s hands, the priestess in a white tunic and veil that barely revealed her face reading from a book to you that you had never seen in churches on earth. 
You didn’t have witnesses, there were no family members or friends to celebrate this special day with you. Under these circumstances, it would have been the saddest day in a young woman’s life. But not for you. Of course you wished your mother and sister could have been here too to share these feelings with you, but they also wouldn’t have understood.
Why you did this. Why you needed to do this.
“I do,” you heard Jaehyun say first.
This was where you belonged. At the end of the day, you had still found your way into the arms of the darkest god in the entire realms.
“I do,” you repeated after the priestess, barely a whisper, but still strong enough to be carried by the breeze to everyone’s ear.
You met Jaehyun’s confident smile, and you only now grasped the fact that you barely remembered the last time you had been happy to this extent back there on earth. It had been a long, long time.
When your lips closed around your husband’s, marking his mouth with stains of the same redness as the sky and the pomegranates that bound you to this place, you claimed him as yours just like he claimed you as his.
Two equals from different breeds, but from now on of the same value under this red sky.
____
“Congratulations on your wedding. I was a bit sad that I wasn't invited.”
“Nobody was invited, Taeyong,” Jaehyun sighed. “Why did you come here anyway?”
“I have a message for your wife.” The sun god jumped down the stairs until he stood in front of you both, but only eyeing you. “Talk about timing, you have just gotten married and I will have to separate you again.”
“What do you mean?” You frowned, suddenly very wary.
“I have a message for you from the god of the sea. Since he was banned by your now husband from ever entering the underworld again and your husband was banned from entering the sea too, he sent me as a messenger.”
That statement didn’t only cause you to freeze, but Jaehyun as well. “What does he want from her?”
The few things you had heard about the sea god so far hadn’t been really pleasant. What could he possibly want from you?
“He has been reached out to by someone who wants to get you back,” Taeyong declared carefully.
You shook your head. “That’s impossible. No one from my family can come and there is no other person who would care enough for me to do that.”
“Why would that be the case?” Taeyong asked.
“Her mother is limping gravely and her sister is still a child. She doesn’t have other living relatives,” Jaehyun reasoned for you.
You were grateful for his support as you were having struggles digesting Taeyong’s information, having the fact pass by you that you had never actually told Jaehyun anything about your family yourself by then.
“Well, someone is there who you matter very much to. And they want to take you back with them. A distant relative? A friend?”
“It must be my mother or sister. It must.” You were petrified while two pairs of eyes laid on you, both gods lost for words too.
The tears that spilled from your eyes shortly later weren’t tears of happiness or relief. They were tears of guilt, because you felt neither. You couldn’t move but shook with your whole body against your will at the same time. What eventually settled in your stomach was the feeling of disappointment.
Disappointment, because whoever had come they had succeeded in that task - all to no avail.
Taeyong touched your back in a comforting gesture. “I’ll accompany you.”
“No,” Jaehyun cut in and took you into an embrace in which you couldn’t stop trembling too, even though you weren’t cold. “Let her digest that information first, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
Despite the stream of tears that clouded your vision, you still brought yourself to shake your head. “N-no,” you sobbed. “I-I will go now. I have to go n-now.”
“The horse is already saddled,” Taeyong supported you. “Don’t worry, I will safely escort her and bring her back to you, Jaehyun, you have my word.”
“You want to do it now?” your husband asked you carefully, eyes full of worry.
You nodded determinedly, voice steadier now. “Yes. They came all the way here, I owe them. Whatever they risked, I owe them. I cannot let another minute go reactionless to waste.”
“I understand.”
Not much later, you had hurried to your own room, Ara helping you peel out of your wedding dress and changing into a comfortable, dark gown, more suited for riding and traveling. You didn’t want to lose much time as Taeyong was already waiting outside, so you hastened along with the servant until your husband stepped into the room right before you were about to leave again.
“You’re dismissed, Ara,” Jaehyun said and she nodded, quietly departing and shutting the door behind her.
“What’s he like?” you asked dryly, tears now having entirely subsided, but fear only growing. “The god of the sea, I mean.”
Your husband turned mute for a bit too long before he replied discreetly, yet clearly enough with much pain in his voice, “I wish you wouldn’t have to go.”
“I must.”
“I know. It’s just so unfortunate it happened on our wedding day.”
You felt his breath hitting the parting of your hair when he stood close to you and eventually hugged again which you instinctively reciprocated. You didn’t want to leave him either - but, again, you must. If only he could come with you, you would feel safer and more protected. Even though Taeyong offered probably the same amount of comfort, it would have been something entirely else to have your own husband by your side.
“Remember, you’re the queen of the underworld now,” Jaehyun whispered into your ear. “He doesn’t stand a chance against you. By title alone, you’re mightier than him.”
“I’m still a human and mortal after all,” you expressed your worry and buried your face in his chest, fingers clutching hard into the fabric of his shirt. “He could keep me captivated, blackmail you or just end me with one single grip of his hand. I don’t stand a chance against him.”
“If he dares to lay a finger on you,” Jaehyun continued with an underlying groan that indicated he was suppressing long planted anger, “I will have the permission to end him. I promise to you, if you’re not back by the day after tomorrow, I will tear every single realm apart just to find you and take you back with me.”
In the security of his embrace, you smiled, more at ease now. “If he won’t let me go, I will fight my way back to you. Through every single realm.”
“That is exactly what my queen and wife would say.”
The proudness in his voice made you proud too, and suddenly you weren’t so scared anymore. The promises you had given to each other in the secrecy of your room was sealed with one last kiss that was dripping with longing over the lost wedding night before you got on Taeyong’s horse and rode off with him into the fallen darkness.
____
“So, you’re the wife of the king of the underworld?” 
The man in front of you motioned his pupils up and down, inspecting you from head to toe. You couldn’t pinpoint the look in his eyes, but it was everything except kindness that got mirrored in them. It was mostly mockery that bordered disgust even.
“I’m not only his wife, I’m his queen and the queen of the underworld, so you will address me as such.”
He raised his dark brow that was of the same color as his hair - petrol blue. In comparison to your husband, the king, he was a bit shorter and of a more slender figure, his aura far more sinister, nothing that would draw you to him like what had drawn you to your husband at the very beginning.
“Very well, human queen.” He grinned, his grin sharp and his smile crooked. “Does your oblivious husband know you killed your own father and only accepted his marriage proposal to get spared from the torture fields?”
Your blood froze.
“I see, that’s enough of an answer. When I heard your father went away a decade ago, but I couldn’t track him down, I found it very suspicious, so I did a background check on you. What came to light truly fascinated me.” He put his index finger on his chin. “You and the god of the underworld are so similar. That you accepted his marriage proposal solely for that purpose, I only guessed. But I know you stupid, greedy humans. You’re all the same. In comparison to you, your sister is very talkative though as she had come all the way down here by herself.”
Your jaw dropped. “My… sister?” You were conflicted about what to do first as you did everything at once, gasping, breathing and talking simultaneously. “My sister is here? Alone? My sister can't be here, she’s practically still a child!”
“She’s very mature for her age,” the sea god explained, partially smugly, partially matter-of-factly. “She reached out to me herself through a summoner that she had tracked down in a nearby village and even offered her life, wanted me to trade hers for yours. Unfortunately, that was when I found out you ate our food already. What a pity.” He let out a long sigh and touched his forehead as though annoyed in a phony manner. “And now that you’re even queen of the underworld, I’m not allowed to go through with my plans.” When he fixed his gaze back on you, his expression had some kind of madness to it that caused goose bumps to appear all over your body, and not the pleasant ones. “But that doesn’t mean that I cannot still have a bit of fun. Let’s see how much you both love each other.”
The undersea palace was equally impressive as the dark palace, the entire building forged of corals of different colors, lightning coming from the sun that was still able to make its way through the entire ocean’s depth until the last rays reached down here. It seemed like a lively and vibrant place with the residents also breathing air as water was kept outside, many mortals roaming around in colorful attires that reminded you of another part of the earth. The palace was like an own world in the middle of the undersea, but it was exactly this colorful and lively world that you would make the worst memory with.
The sea god suddenly spread out his arms like wings. Behind him, where a mass of deep blue curtain had adorned the back wall of the throne hall until now, a glass window revealed itself when the thick fabric parted, presenting the foggish undersea through a hole as big as a human’s house. The view was striking and intimidating at the same time, and you would have appreciated the sight for a bit longer if it weren’t for your sister who you found swimming like a fish in an aquarium behind the glass, a tiny dot on a huge painting. 
Her long hair was floating around her head like a halo, her skirts spread like a summer breeze had lifted them up, and it would all have been a heavenly painting with the fishes swimming across the picture if it weren’t for the look of horror in her eyes that she directed at you from the moment the curtains parted.
“I heard,” the sea god pulled you out of your petrifying realizations, “humans can only live approximately three minutes without air. How long will your sister make it? I think she’s already been in there for more than a minute.”
You panicked, and for a few heartbeats, you had to deal with a blackout about how to proceed, how to save your sister. Luckily, rationality kicked back in and you acted on implementing your first idea. The sea god watched you running around while continuously wearing his mocking smirk, heading into different directions in search of something that could break the glass.
You heard him laugh, his petrol blue strands shaking in the same rhythm as his dancing shoulders when you took a chair into your hands and dragged it to the massive glass window behind the dais. You were of a natural build, but that didn’t mean you were weak for a woman. Years of working on the fields finally paid off when you heaved the chair up and slammed it against the glass, over and over again.
The more often the chair came in contact with the surface, the weaker your arms and the bigger your panic grew as time passed uncontrollably and you knew that soon, it would be too late.
“It’s not human glass. A chair cannot break it. It was amusing watching you though, but now it gets boring,” the sea god snickered and yawned. “Humans… such imbeciles.”
You hadn’t noticed how tears started streaming down your face, hot and wet, until you desperately laid your palms against the glass, trying to make out your sister’s body. But at this point, she had already floated so far away, you could barely spot her anymore, perhaps mainly also because of your tear-smeared vision.
You sank onto your knees, hands sliding down the glass as you felt hope shrinking the further you lowered your position, until you were a crying mess on the ground. Your sister would now die and it was entirely your fault - because you were so selfish and only thought about saving yourself. Just like back then with your father.
But suddenly, your hiccups stopped in unison with your tears when you felt something prick against your right thigh, and you gasped when a fact dawned on you: There was still hope. Before you had ridden off, Jaehyun had strapped an item around your leg that you had shortly forgotten about.
A knife.
“Take this with you,” your husband had said. “It’s made from the strongest material to ever exist, in this and the human world. It cannot kill an immortal, but it can break through every surface imaginable.”
Like he had seen coming, because he had been in a feud with the sea god for a long time already. Like he had wanted to prepare you for every possible situation that could occur. 
The moment the glass broke with only a single strike of you and water mercilessly swamped into the hall, you just thought about how much you loved your husband and that it was only thanks to him that you were now able to hold your sister in your arms again - breathing and alive.
And that you hadn’t killed another family member and would never need to again.
____
Your little sister was shivering in your arms, but you tried your best to keep her warm with your coat while you were wearing Taeyong’s as you were equally cold after the throne hall in the undersea palace had been entirely swamped.
“I’m tired,” your sister yawned.
It had been an almost impossible battle to get her out of there with the sea god going on a rampage after you broke the glass, and without Taeyong’s help, it wouldn’t have been successful at all, but here you were now, both exhausted and injured, but alive. That was all that mattered.
“Not long anymore,” you assured her.
Not long anymore and you would be back at the dark palace. It had only been two days, but the further you approached the location, the more your anticipation grew to finally see your husband again. You hadn’t been aware of how much you actually missed and longed for him until the moment you felt him by your side when you saved your sister - with his help.
“Where are we going, sis?”
Taeyong was controlling the horse from the back while you and your sister were seated in front of him. You slung your arms tighter around her before you answered,
“My home.”
“But your home is with me,” she protested weakly before dozing off again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth just yet.
“She can also live here, you know,” Taeyong told you quietly from behind. “If Jaehyun breaks the bargain she made with the sea god, she will be able to stay.”
“Her heart is not as dark as mine, her past not as tarnished, her future not as corrupted. She doesn’t belong here,” you defended her. “I’m darkness and she’s light. She belongs to where flowers grow, where spring returns and where she can see the sun rise every day.”
“You’re also everything that she is, do you know that?”
“You heard the sea god talking about my background. I don’t have an excuse for the things that I did to our father. If I don’t belong to the torture fields, who does?”
“Your father,” was Taeyong’s matter-of-fact reply. 
You added, “And I would have to follow him.”
“That is not true,” he disagreed. “I’m not Jaehyun, but I’m positive that this is not true. He wouldn’t have sent you to the torture fields if you had died one day on earth as a human. I know your entire story now, and he wouldn’t have done that.”
“Even if that were possible…” you smiled sadly into the slowly falling night, “how would my husband react if he knew that I had initially agreed to this marriage just to avert my possible destiny?”
“You only wanted to do what you had to do in order to survive. That’s normal. That’s not even human only, that’s instinct we all carry within us.”
“I don’t want him to send me away,” you admitted, voice cracking and making way for tears that threatened to spill behind your eyes. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and only because of him, not because of my position or my title.”
With your front teeth sinking into your bottom lip and nearly making it bleed, you held yourself back from crying the nth time today. 
“Sounds like you married him for other reasons as well,” Taeyong concluded with a lighter tone in his voice. “In the end, isn’t that all that matters now?”
“I don’t want him to regret choosing me,” you added hesitantly, stroking your sister’s damp hair as the fist spires of the dark palace came into sight, even in the settling darkness.
“Jaehyun has been the god of the underworld for an eternity already. As I said, never has he ever made a wrong decision. He has risked everything to get you. All you have to be is as courageous and confident as him, and believe in your love.”
Love…? 
Was it even possible to love someone you didn’t entirely know?
The last part of the way was covered in silence, and you expected your husband to be already asleep by now as night had long fallen. But you were able to make out the shape of his body even from miles afar. He stood in front of the gate as though he had known exactly when you would return - or had been standing there the past two days and nights.
You didn’t even have to ride all the way to the gates. Jaehyun came running in your direction, his crown falling off his head while sprinting, but he didn’t seem to care about that. 
“My wife,” he greeted you when you slid from the horse and into his arms, welcomed back into the darkness to where you belonged, but that suddenly didn’t feel so cold and threatening anymore. It felt warm. Just like home. 
Not “little rose”, not “my queen”. 
But “my wife” you were now.
You couldn’t lie to him any longer.
____
You gazed at your husband who was sleeping soundly next to you. Even though night had not given way to daytime yet, you couldn’t sleep anymore, too many thoughts keeping you restless and awake. 
Upon your return, you and your sister had been examined by a physician, but to your both luck, you had escaped with only minor injuries such as scratches from the broken glass. Yet, you had demanded for her to be observed the entire night. Initially, you had wanted to stay by her side yourself, but the physician had required absolute quietness and bedrest for her as she would sleep for many more hours, so you had decided to stay by Jaehyun’s side in the meantime.
For what seemed like hours, you had talked. And reliving the entire story in your tellings had you crying in your husband’s arms once again, partly because of the horror, partly because of the relief that you had been able to save your sister.
“She cannot stay here for long,” Jaehyun had made clear after comforting you until all your tears had subsided. “Part of her bargain was giving up one year of her life for every day she stays in the godly realms, so she has to recover fast and hurry home.”
How were you supposed to tell him that this wasn’t the only thing you were worried about? Now that your sister was here to take you back, but with you having already eaten the pomegranate seeds, you didn’t have a choice anymore. Deep inside, you deemed yourself lucky that you didn’t even have to make one in the first place afterwards.
Because that would mean that you would have had to hurt someone consciously. And it wouldn’t have been your husband.
Which was why you had decided to come clean with him now. 
You were sitting next to him, stretching out your hand and gently tracing the outline of his jaw. He was so ethereally beautiful, it nearly made your breath catch again. But that wasn’t the reason why you wanted to stay by his side forever. 
It was because, after living a quarter of a human lifetime, you had finally found the place where you belonged. You had found your counterpart, your partner for eternity, your equal, your twin flame. The one who accepted every edge of your soul, no matter how frayed it was. At least, out of all mortals and immortals, he was willing to.
But would he still be if he had explored every last part of the darkness inside of you?
“Why did you stop?”
You hadn’t noticed how you had halted your motions, your fingers coming to a stop right under Jaehyun’s bottom lip. 
“Good morning,” you whispered with a smile, and he kissed the tip of your index finger.
“It’s long not morning yet.” He looked at you, but he wasn’t mirroring your expression. “What are you so sad for?”
So, he had seen right through you already. You gulped. “I had a bad dream,” you said. 
“Tell me about it.”
“I dreamed that you left me.”
Jaehyun let out a light-hearted chuckle that was still hoarse from sleep. “Why would I ever do that?”
“Because I might not be the person you think I am. The more you get to know me…”
But he didn’t let you finish, which you gladly accepted, because you were unsure about how to end the sentence anyway. “In my entire lifetime, I have never made one decision that I regretted, not even after an eternity. And you’re one of them.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
What your husband said next made you possibly love him even more. He didn’t tell you the usual phrases that any man would tell their wives in order to silence them for they got too annoyed. Instead, he said, 
“You’re the queen of the underworld now. You have to believe in yourself first.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that in your own words how much you have come to love him though. Instead, you bent down to him and covered his mouth with yours in a passionate kiss.
“You know, we were never able to celebrate our wedding night.”
“You mean what happened in the hallway earlier didn’t count?” he wondered with feigned innocence as though he hadn’t been the one ripping your clothes apart the moment you were finally alone and hastily took you on the stairs right there and then.
You tugged on the hem of your nightgown, sliding the thin fabric over your head and simultaneously motioning towards Jaehyun until you were sitting naked on his lap. “That was your present for me. Here’s my present for you.”
The way your husband moaned into your ear when you were hovering over him shortly later, your hips coming down on his in a steady rhythm and your nipples grazing over his muscular chest, made you wonder if this was the last time that you would be able to hear him utter sounds like this. 
You were bouncing up and down the mattress, knees already strained as you leaned backwards and braced yourself against his shins with your hands, arching your spine in such a way to give him full access to your whole body.
And he did worship it, every single inch, every part you considered a human flaw. His hands trailed upwards, stopping by your breasts and kneading them gently as he met your hip motions with thrusts that hit all your sensitive spots inside through the curved angle. 
Your face was turned against the ceiling as you decided to close your eyes, your hair cascading past your shoulder and winding with each rock of your groins. Only a little longer, you swore to yourself. For only a little longer, you wanted to stop time and lived in this moment as long as possible.
But your body was human even though you couldn’t age in the godly realms, it painfully reminded you of that when Jaehyun dropped his palm and his fingers landed on your clit. You didn’t have the same stamina, nor the same endurance to prolong and go on for hours, so when you came undone right above your husband with a scream, body and soul, you felt betrayed by your own remaining humanity.
You fully rode out your orgasm, but as Jaehyun made a move to take the lead now and flip you around, you pinned him in that position by locking his arms in place with your hands. Even though he was able to change positions easily, he didn’t, and having you dominating turned him on so much, it didn’t take you much more until he cum in long spurts all inside of you himself.
“I never believed you were a virgin in the first place,” Jaehyun breathed under you. “But that you were capable of doing these kinds of things, I didn’t believe either. I’m impressed.”
“There is so much more to me you won’t believe I’m capable of,” you said, gaze stoically directed at the wall behind him, not moving from his lap to cuddle with him like usual, and he noticed.
“Didn’t we talk about this?” Jaehyun brushed it off, assuming this was what withheld you from coming closer to him. “Peccadillos.”
You inhaled deeply, then lowered your gaze, hiding behind strands of your loose hair, because that was how cowardly you actually were. “Ten years ago, I killed my father in a cold blooded murder,” you finally confessed. “Now, do you still want me as your wife?”
____
Jaehyun found you much later in one of the endless corridors as you had run away right after your confession. You had roamed through the palace in the meantime, at a loss about where to continue from here, and because you were afraid of his reaction. After all, you were always good at running away from things, no matter whether they were crimes or feelings.
As redness crested the horizon, you were leaning out of the window, guilty, but simultaneously full of relief to still see another dayrise.
“You can think of a punishment fit for my crime,” you offered to Jaehyun without turning around. “I won’t mind.” 
Whatever it might be, it couldn’t be as horrific as suffering on the torture fields for eternity. At least, he couldn’t punish you with that. That was all you had wanted, wasn’t it? 
“I cannot judge over my equal,” your husband replied monotonously. “Only the god who reigns over all godly realms can.”
“Oh, so it’s like this.” You had thought you were oh so smart to trick yourself into staying in the underworld as a mortal only to find out that there was possibly a much more gruesome punishment than what Jaehyun would have had in store for you. “I was wrong in the end.”
All this time, you had had this secret locked away in a chest that you had thrown into the deepest abyss of your heart, pretending it was whole when it was frayed on every edge. Once you unlocked the chest that you had sealed shut for nearly a decade, the darkness that was kept within would consume all of you. Perhaps, right now was the perfect time to face it.
“When I was much younger,” you began deliberately, staring out of the window while sensing your husband approaching you with deliberate steps, “and my little sister barely a toddler, my father came home one night, totally drunk. At that point, he had been drinking almost every day for a few years already. What he earned from his cabinetwork and from what we sold in crops, vegetables and fruits, he spent it satisfying his addiction. My mother was always very careful to put us to sleep before he came home, but I was already old enough to witness with my own eyes and ears what was going on each night. Every morning, my mother came out of the bedroom with another bruise showing on her body when my father had long gone out again. That certain night though, he was thrashing around furniture, even waking my baby sister up who I then carried around. When I opened the door, he shoved the table against my mother, hitting her legs with full force and rendering her unconscious. Upon seeing us, he snatched my little sister out of my arms.”
“Please.” Jaehyun’s attire made a rustling sound and then stilled, but he didn’t reach out to touch you. Outwardly, you reacted as though you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. Inwardly, you longed for his fingers traveling over your thighs just one more time. But he was willing to give you the space you needed. “You don-.”
“That night, I killed him,” you cut him off, because you knew that if you didn’t do it now, you might never come so far again. “When he didn’t want to let go of my sister and give her back to me, preparing himself to do to her what he did to our mother, I took a knife and stabbed him many, many times. My sister’s crying was ringing in my ears long after he was dead, but I was still stabbing. I managed to calm my baby sister down and put her back to sleep. I tended my mother’s wounds and also brought her to bed before I took my father’s corpse and buried it deep in the woods. I spent half of the night digging his grave, the other half cleaning the wood off his blood. The next day, I told everyone I chased him off and he would never come back to hurt them again. The relief in their eyes made up for everything. They were so happy they were finally able to live in peace. But me? I have never found peace. I sacrificed my own happiness for my family. And I don’t regret it. I was only a teenager when I made that decision.”
With every syllable, you felt the darkness eating up a bigger part of your heart, and it wouldn’t be long until it had digested the entire organ. That was what you had always been afraid of, but it was also very relieving on the other hand. There was no pain anymore, just deep satisfaction, indicating a hint of regret for not having done it sooner.
Jaehyun didn’t say anything afterwards, but you were prepared for everything that would happen now. At least, you could move on, at peace with yourself after a decade.
“My soul might be dark, but I was not suffering. I was only afraid of what the darkness would do to me if I didn’t keep it locked, under control. That I would hurt more people, especially my family. But I would do it over and over again if this is the only way to keep my family safe from monsters. Even if this monster is me. But you have to understand…” You finally shifted around to your husband, revealing a face wet from tears. “When I ate the seeds, I had already decided to be your queen. But not for the same purpose for which I have decided to be your wife. When I decided to be your queen, it was because of the fear of ending on the torture fields myself if I ever got the chance to return to the mortal world. I thought I didn’t deserve to continue living on earth alongside pure people like my mother and sister, because I’m so filthy and corrupted. It was for my own protection, I was so scared after visiting the fields, that’s why I ate the seeds.”
You fell down to your knees and the thin fabric of your nightgown couldn’t cushion the pain that you felt when you smashed against the marble. But you didn’t care. The only thing important to you now was to not lose your husband. You wanted to fight for him so that if he were to let you go, you could say you had been finally courageous and confident enough to have fought for your love.
Yes, love.
“But when I decided to be your wife too, it was because I whole-heartedly wanted to stay by your side, because I-” The following confession twisted your guts, because you had never believed you would be able to say this to someone or even feel a sliver of it one day. But it was true, every single syllable. “Because I love you.”
For a long moment, nothing happened, only your whimpers and sobs filling in the silence that stretched in the hallway, and the more you waited for a reaction, the more agonized you turned to the point of coming to accept the truth that you might have lost your husband forever. You cried even more.
“I finally understand.” You then felt Jaehyun’s fingertips on your skin, wandering along your shoulder and eventually resting there. “All those years, you dedicated yourself to a simple, peaceful lifestyle to conceal the bloody tumult that you’ve been through. In contrast to your flowery, colorful appearance, your soul was dark and suffering.”
The tip of his index finger then traveled to your chin and lifted it up, and the man whose eyes you locked with were neither your husband here in the palace nor the god of the underworld in the hall of judgment. Somehow they were both. 
“If possible, I might love you even more now,” he said before he kissed your tear-stained lips.
____
You shouldn’t sit in the hall of judgment the same day when your sister still wasn’t awake, but there was something you had to be shown according to Jaehyun, which was why he had ridden with you all across the deadlands again.
Today, there was no soul awaiting their judgment, so you wondered why you had been brought here in the first place. Painfully, the truth dawned on you though as Jaehyun urged you to stand in front of the dais and he took his own seat on his throne, the one in which you were supposed to sit empty this time.
You were the one to be judged.
“There was something I have only informed you shortly about the first time you were here,” your husband then opened up as he settled in his throne. “The fact that none of the souls entering the hall has to tell me their backstories. It would consume too much time and they would be able to conceal parts for they cannot straight up lie. I know their entire lives, histories and stories upon entering, they only tell me their point of view, their opinion. And…” He took a meaningful, long pause. “With every soul, I mean every human, dead or alive.”
You stared at him for a moment, your brain processing what then washed over you in shocking realization all at once. With your hand, you covered your mouth, swallowing a gasp. “You always knew?!”
Only then, you were able to relive the scene from three days ago when Taeyong broke down the news to you that someone from your family had come to get you. Jaehyun had known about the circumstances which made you believe that none of them were able to come down here despite you never having told him anything about your mother’s condition and your sister’s age yourself. But back then, you had been so stressed, it had totally passed by you. He had indeed always known.
“It’s true, a decade ago on earth you made a drastic decision to self-judge and rob your father of his life, but you didn’t bring this fate over him. I did when I decided to throw him onto the torture fields. I did the exact same thing as you. So why would I punish you for something that hadn’t only protected you, but also the people you love the most?”
For that, you didn’t have an answer. That your actions could be justifiable, you had always talked yourself into. But you had never been able to shake off the shadow that sometimes crossed your mother’s face when someone mentioned your father or your sister getting bullied for not having one. They believed he was still alive, but didn’t fear he would ever return. If they knew the entire truth, it wouldn’t change anything about their mindset other than seeing you as an entirely different person.
Yes, your lives had gotten considerably better without your father in regards to the living circumstances as he had barely financially and emotionally supported your family anyway. But by the looks of the village people, it had only brought you shame and misfortune to live like this as no one had wanted to marry your handicapped, single mother again - or even you. Subconsciously, you perpetually felt guilty for that you had to live the way you used to live. This all, you also told Jaehyun, and he only shook his head.
“You cannot blame them for feeling this way like they cannot blame you for saving their lives. What if your father was still alive? This is a scenario nobody can answer to rightfully. You couldn’t have sat around, waiting until he would change. Perhaps, you would have lost more than one person. Even when the tiniest part inside of them blames you for not having him around anymore, even if they knew the entire truth, you don’t have to blame yourself too and make amends by playing the commendable child when there is so much more to you.”
“Much… more?”
“You were leading the life of a good daughter, always obedient, always loving. You grew flowers in hope they could conceal the darkness in your heart. But the truth is…” Jaehyun arose from his throne, carefully stepping down the stairs while keeping his hands hidden behind his back, “with the darkness that had settled inside you that day, you would have never been able to live a fulfilling life on earth, that was why you had decided to stay with me in the first place, not because you were scared. You were never afraid of me or anything else down here. You always only wanted to believe that because your mortal side couldn’t justify your true feelings. The moment I saw the true you, I realized I couldn’t let you go. Everything I said, none of that has ever been a lie, I always knew who you were.”
Was that true? Had he seen right through you from the very beginning? The day you had entered the hall from the very first time was the day he had proposed the throne to you without a second thought.
“You fought hard against this, against us, because you thought you owed your life to your mother and sister as you might have ruined theirs to the point of nearly forgetting that you can bloom in your very own way when you don’t dedicate your life to someone else. Of course you love them, but be brave and start loving yourself equally as much. Just like I do.”
For a split second, you were asking yourself whether you had made the wrong decision to eat the pomegranate seeds out of your own free will. But that was what it all boiled down to: Everything you had done happened out of your own free will that you had always been possessing as a human, even here, even now still.
“Listen,” Jaehyun spoke gently when he finally stood in front of you, on the same level, as equals again. “To be my queen is not a duty just any human is capable of. It’s difficult, straining for body and soul, and requires a lot of self-control to not lose your mind. I wouldn’t have proposed this position to you if I hadn’t been sure you harbored all that. Your story has only assured me of the fact that in you, I wouldn’t only find a wife, but someone who thinks and acts the same as me. So today, I pronounce your sentence.”
Even though his words had been sweet and everything you had been longing to hear, the last statement made you shudder. Would he still send you away?
“My sentence for you is to be my queen, to stay by my side and reign alongside me always. Will you accept it?”
You felt something getting placed on the very top of your head. When you raised your arm and came in contact with the object, you touched something heavy and spiky - your very own crown, made of darkness and flowers that would never wither. You had exchanged flowers and pastels for flames and darkness.
“As I said,” your husband smiled proudly this time, “never in my entire lifespan have I ever made a wrong decision. You chose me. You love me. This is real, not the seven silly seeds you ate sealed the deal, but your love for me.”
The king of the underworld had accepted you. He was both the kindest and cruelest thing that had ever happened to you, even if others wouldn’t perceive your tale like this. He had seen the darkness that resided inside you demanded its own throne, and he had shown you how a love like yours could turn even the coldest realm into a warm home.
You had never been afraid. You had never been held captive. You had voluntarily stayed. Why would you have cared about being a human bride when you could have been an eternal queen all along? 
Oh, how you wished for everyone to know that the god of darkness who you could also call your husband, had the silkiest hair that felt especially soft when he was on his knees, coaxing spring from inside of you with your thighs wrapped around his neck. 
____
“But I don’t want to leave without you,” your sister sobbed and wrapped her arms around you just a bit tighter. “Why can’t you come with me?”
By now, you weren’t able to hold your tears back anymore either, and you just cried in each other’s arms. The horse was already settled and stood by the main gate not far from you. Taeyong had volunteered to bring her back and was waiting there. 
“As I told you,” you explained patiently for the nth time to your little sister, “I cannot leave.”
“Did you truly eat the seeds of your own free will?” she asked warily. 
You nodded. “I did.”
You weren’t able to bring yourself to tell her the entire truth. One day, if you would ever get the possibility, when she was only a bit older and your paths crossed again, you promised to yourself that you would. 
“But how could you! He took you from the earth to a world where not a single living thing can grow and live!”
“Sister, have you seen that every single flower on earth withers away?” You pried her from you and flashed an encouraging smile, all through the veil of blurring goodbye tears. “Where is the difference? Our garden might only be small, but whatever grows there blossoms to its full potential, just like I can.”
“I don’t understand, sis.”
“You don’t have to understand. You only have to believe me.”
“What will I tell mother?” she wanted to know. “She misses you.”
“Tell her I miss her too. And that she’s going to be fine. You’re both going to be fine, even without me.”
“Sis, when will I see you again?”
Another wave of sadness rolled over you, but you swallowed it down this time and brushed over your sister’s hair in a reassuring gesture. “I don’t know.”
“How will I live life without you?”
“Stay kind, confident and courageous, always believe in yourself. After all, you made it all the way down here by yourself only. I wouldn’t have been able to, but you did all that. Do you know how proud you can be of yourself, sis? You’re going to grow up to be such a beautiful, smart and brave woman. I’m certain about that, and I’m already so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.”
“Actually,” a manly voice interrupted you, and you both simultaneously turned to the side to watch your husband speak, “you don’t have to worry about that, dear. Your sister will come with you.”
“What?” you both called out, also simultaneously, but the fine difference lied in either of your tones.
While your sister’s was full of joy, you barely brought out a syllable that wasn’t dripping with worry and fear. Why would Jaehyun suggest something like that? Had he already forgotten everything he had said to you since your wedding day?
But the smile that spread across your husband’s lips was full of happiness like your sister’s with no hint of grudge as he approached you and placed his palms on each side of your face, looking at you with much love as opposed to his statement. You didn’t understand. 
“Why are you sending me away?” you wanted to scream, but only brought out a whisper, fingers clutching onto the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t send me away!”
“I’m not sending you away.” His thumbs caressed your cheeks, and you only noticed then that something had changed in his eyes. It wasn’t a look or a feeling that had been there before, and not weighing on the negative side either. In fact, nothing had been replaced or exchanged, only something slightly different that you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps, it was all in your mind after all. “I’m sending you to live with your mother and sister each year for six months, spring throughout summer.”
Your brain was still processing when your sister was already expressing her joy through little bumps and screams that gradually turned into a singsong about how you were returning home.
“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun calmed you down. “You are the bones of my spine, the ground beneath my feet, the air I’m breathing in. How could I possibly ever live without you again?”
“But-!”
He silenced you by putting his index finger on your lip. “Every year, when the first flowers bloom, you will be able to return to earth to live with your family. When you see the first leaves falling, that is when I will take you back to the underworld. You will bring spring, bursting with light, and leave with winter, dreary and cold. Does this duality fascinate you too?”
You had so many questions, first and foremost what he traded your freedom for, but you also didn’t have time to ask any of them anymore as every minute that you lingered in the underworld robbed a sliver of your sister’s lifespan. 
You expressed your gratitude through hasty kisses with his arms slung around your back regardless of the presence of the other two as these would need to get you through the next months. 
“I don’t want you to feel lonely again when I’m gone,” you said to him.
“Don’t worry about that,” he reassured you. “I was patiently waiting half an eternity for you. I can wait another few months every year as long as you always come back to me.”
From now on, you could see yourself as a child of spring, wearing pastel colors and flowers in your hair on earth, and when returning home that was literally the underworld, donned all in black, you would pass sentence on lost souls in the hall of judgment as the queen of hell.
Yes, such duality fascinated you very much.
“Will you wait for me?” you asked when you were seated on the horse’s back with your sister in front and Taeyong behind you.
“Even if it takes you an eternity to come back to me.”
You leaned down, your husband embracing your cheeks on either side and giving you a long kiss that was supposed to last a few months in the moment a breeze came by and lifted the strands of your hair up in a swirl.
He trembled under the last gaze you threw at him before you rode off.
It wasn’t a punishment, it was a reward - for you to see your mother and sister again, and live where flowers grew and never see them wither again.
After all, you’d come back this time, every time.
Out of your own free will.
_____
Jaehyun had known he should have regretted that certain forenoon of hasty decisions on earth. He had sensed you before he even saw you, soft, warm, light - everything he needed his future queen to be, so he didn’t look further as he had gotten spared only one day.
There, in your mother’s garden, sun on your nose and wind in your hair, enveloped in the intense scent of yet to bloom flowers, it made even the hardest of hearts unharden, and suddenly the god of the underworld was only a man with an uncontrollable longing for your innocent sweetness.
“She’s coming back today,” Taeyong said, pulling Jaehyun out of his thoughts. “I’ll pick her up from the river and bring her here.”
“Very well,” Jaehyun answered, trying to downplay his excitement to welcome back his wife after so many months.
But his friend wouldn’t stop budging. “So, when are you going to tell her? What you traded her freedom for?”
“Possibly never, this is not something she will easily find out anyway. It’s not like I traded being a king, a god. We’ll be fine.”
“As long as no one wants to see you dead,” Taeyong stated with rolling eyes.
“Then let’s hope we’ll live alongside in peace,” the king answered dryly and his friend only gave him a long, last sigh in response before riding off to his duty.
Jaehyun had searched for a fitting wife for so long, sick of isolation and darkness, but no one living in the godly realms matched with what he had been looking for. Every resident was involved in an endless game of rivalry, too cunning, too vile to make his already hard life easier. He needed someone simple, timid and narrow-minded who would gladly accept what a god could offer to them without a single complaint. A human.
But the person he had chosen wasn’t all that. In a garden full of colorful plants, he had plucked the most dangerous flower of all. She was as beautiful as a rose, lulling him with her pure appearance and sugary scent, but her thorns stung and could cause him great harm. 
Even on that day, he hadn’t made a wrong decision, though it had looked like it in the very beginning as it all boiled down to either his instincts, luck or coincidence. But somehow, he had ended up combining all three and chose her.
His human guest only needed time, he had thought when she fought him like a panther in a cage upon their first meeting, so he had given her a few days to adjust and then intended to break down the advantages for her, hoping she would finally settle here in peace and then do for what he had brought her here: offering him company in all senses.
When she had walked into the dining room that one evening though, in a pastel silk dress he had chosen for his wife himself, looking and smelling like a freshly bloomed flower, but with eyes so fierce, Jaehyun swore he saw fire burning inside them, flames so intense like the ones on the torture fields. 
Just like now.
She hadn’t changed one bit since the day they had said goodbye to each other. Dressed all in black now with fiery eyes, she had returned to him, her attire as splendid as the crown in her hair, fitting for the queen of the underworld who was about to start her duties.
They were grinning at each other from afar already, and she was coming to a halt right in front of the dais. 
“You’re back,” Jaehyun stated stoically, but his voice shook with emotion when he arose. “I missed you.”
“I am,” you whispered. “And I missed you too.”
When he had been an immortal god, he had felt invincible. But Jaehyun hadn’t felt like this in months, and for a long while, he had been worried about that, about never being able to feel so powerful again.
But as he was holding his wife and his queen in his arms again after such a long period of separation, inhaling her scent, feeling her soft skin, hearing her warm voice whispering his name, he suddenly regained all of what he had thought lost when he had traded his immortality for her freedom, for her true happiness.
He didn’t need his immortality to feel immortal.
He only needed her.
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Text
Too many cooks…
(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem Reader fan fiction)
Part 2
I didn’t expect to write any more smut, butttt I had so much fun writing the last one (take that depression! :D) This idea came to me while casually preparing a roast on Sunday and singing along to the HH soundtrack. Enjoy!
Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader
Plot: It’s your turn to cook for the HH gang, but Alastor decides to distract you…
Warnings: 18+, smut, bdsm, blood, rough sex (not for me, but maybe you), slight praise k*nk, p in v.
Word Count: About 1.3K
____________________________________________
The hotel was a hub of joy and excitement tonight, it was Friday night and that meant party time! Each week you all took turns cooking a slap-up meal for each other, then put on music, drank and laughed into the small hours. Last week Sir Pentious served up some sort of inedible egg dish which didn’t go down too well, especially when you all had noticed a couple of his egg boys had mysteriously disappeared… But anyway, it was your turn to shine and you were determined to cook something amazing for everyone!
You had it all planned out, cook a few things to suit every taste; something meaty, something veggie, something carby and something buggy… “Ugh” you scoffed as you placed the tray of roaches into the oven. It was Nifty’s favourite and who were you to deny the endearing little creep?
Niffty ran in and out of the kitchen gathering plates and cutlery to set the table. “Thanks Niffty, you’re a star!” You chimed as she grabbed some plates. “No problem! Everything must be perfect!” She sang as she grabbed some more plates. “And clean” she muttered wiping the top plate manically as she struggled through the door.
You laughed to yourself and began preparing the vegetables on the large island in the middle of the kitchen. “I think I’ll have everyone’s tastes covered with this spread” you thought. But then you remembered - Alastor. Alastor who had invited you to his room last night… Your heart fluttered as you remembered the evening’s amorous activities… “I don’t have any venison for Alastor, he’ll be so disappointed” you thought sadly. You didn’t want to disappoint him, especially now that you were his new flight of fancy.
You continued chopping up vegetables when a familiar feeling washed over you. The static was back and that only meant one thing… “Hello my little Doe” a voice suddenly whispered into your ear. You jumped violently and accidentally pierced the knife into your finger. “SHIT!” you yelped in pain as scarlet began dripping onto the white marble. You grabbed the nearest cloth and pressed it tightly to your finger before spinning round to see Alastor stood there. “Hey Alastor, sorry” you said meekly. “No I’m sorry my dear, I need to learn to not sneak up on people when they’re holding knives. Especially not Niffty, she’s a total liability…” He trailed off, “but here, let me help you” Before you knew it the cloth was tossed aside and Alastor had your finger in his mouth. A seductive look in his eye as his tongue swirled around, making sure to get every drop of you. When he was satisfied he let you go and wiped his mouth across his hand “almost as tasty as last night” he purred looking intently into your eyes. You blushed. “Now don’t be coy with me Y/N, you’re no innocent” he said leaning in closer before gently pressing his lips to yours. Your legs felt weak feeling him against you.
“What are you cooking?” He enquired inquisitively after pulling himself away from you. “Err, a little of this, a little of that” you said brushing a loose hair behind your ear. “But…” you began sheepishly “I haven’t got any venison for you, I’m sorry.”
“Oh don’t worry about it” Alastor said coolly “I prefer to catch and eat it fresh” he said almost salivating at the thought. “But the fact I slipped your mind makes me a little sad…” He said his tone changing. Your stomach fell, you never wanted to disappoint the Radio Demon. “I’m sorry Alastor” you said avoiding his gaze. “But, I know how you can make it up to me” he grinned demonically.
Before you knew what was happening Alastor had spun you around and was pressing you down onto the cold marble worktop, his crotch pressed against your buttocks and his powerful hands holding you down by your neck. “Al!” you squeaked in surprise. “Y’know that bit of blood has got me yearning for a little bit more” he growled leaning down over you, his lips against your ear. His lips brushed down to your neck before biting into the flesh gently, his crotch rubbing against you. His lips trailed back up next to your ear. Your face was now flushed hot with excitement. “Last night was wonderful, I think it’s time for round two” he whispered seductively. Your heart skipped a beat, “But what if someone comes in?” you questioned, amazed that you both hadn’t been interrupted already. “I’ll make sure no one will” he said before licking your ear slowly up and down. From the corner of your eye your saw green lock appear on the door. No one would be disturbing you.
Alastor slid his hands down to your black skirt and hoisted it up. “These tights will have to go” he said sternly ripping them off with his claws. You winced as he then spanked your bare arse cheek. “Do you like that Y/N?” You did like that, a lot. “Yes Alastor” you moaned.
“Good girl” he purred as he began sliding your thong down to your ankles. You could hear him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers and felt your body tighten with excitement. He bent back down to your ears “Ready my Doe?” he cooed. “God yes Alastor” you whimpered.
His clawed fingertips traced their way down your back towards your buttocks, he dug his claws into the soft flesh and thrust himself into you roughly, you yelped in pain but didn’t want him to stop. He grabbed you by your pony tail and pulled your neck up, his lips back on your neck giving hickies. He moaned deeply with each thrust into your soaking pussy. “You’re mine” he growled as his stood up tall thrusting harder. His cock was deep inside you, tickling you just were you wanted it. “I thought you were punishing me Al” you moaned. Alastor laughed “Its not my fault you like it you little slut. Now, come for me” his thrusts became faster and the feeling was sensational. He dug his claws into your hips drawing blood and you felt yourself coming hard at the mixed feeling of pleasure and pain “fuck!” you exclaimed before moaning uncontrollably. “That’s it my little Doe” Alastor panted. “My turn!” He thrusted roughly, you could feel your hips starting to bruise from being bashed against the counter. But you didn’t care, all you wanted was Alastor to get there. He leant into you and grabbed your neck before groaning loudly. His cock pulsing inside you as your pussy was filled with him.
He kissed the back of your head before standing up and swiftly dressing himself. He gently pulled your underwear up and let your skirt down. He picked up the tattered tights and laughed “looks like I owe you more clothes!” before making them disappear in a puff of smoke. You chuckled as you turned to face him. You could never get over that face, that smile... He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss. “I’ll see you at dinner my Deer. There may not be anything I’ll eat, but some Rye with friends is always a welcomed treat.”
“Sounds good to me” you panted, still trying to recover from what had just happened. Before Alastor reached the door he stopped and turned “I’ll send some of the girls in to help you finish dinner, you’ve just used up a lot of energy so I’m sure you could you some help.” He said with a wicked grin. With a snap of his fingers the lock was removed from the door and he left inconspicuously.
You braced yourself on the counter. “What just happened…? Fuck!” You laughed to yourself removing a hand from the cold counter to wipe the sweat from your forehead. “I’d better clean up this blood, it looks like Niffty’s tortured someone in here…”
All instalments:
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dduane · 1 year
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For those interested in the drink covers
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Yeah, they're absolutely fabulous! Here's their story.
I first spotted them sometime in the late 2010s when @petermorwood and I were passing through Freiburg im Breisgau—that queen among medieval cities in southwestern Germany. I can't remember why we were there on that particular trip. It's a place we've both been often: occasionally on our way to Somewhere Else, sometimes specifically to go there and stay a while for the terrific yearly wine festival, or for Freiburg's own sake. (I've been there two or three times when I needed to get away and do some writing. The usual plan is to rent a holiday apartment for a week or so and buckle down: but even on such trips you get to know the city around you pretty well as you do your food shopping, etc.)
This one time we were there together, in the summertime. All the shops were full of cool summertime things that were making us salivate. And we passed by the well-known cutlery (and cookware, but mostly wonderful knives, ooo, kniiiiiiiives...) shop Ramsperger, and saw the drinks covers above in the front window, along with various picnic stuff.
As too often happens, we didn't go in and buy them right then. But a couple of years later I remembered them, and said to Peter, "We really need those, if we keep getting this good barbecue weather. I'm tired of wasps and things falling in my rosé." And he said, "Well, go find them!" So I went hunting.
Generally, because I am a persistence shopper, what I hunt I find. Eventually I tracked these guys down at Amazon.de. (There may be other sources for homeXpert goods, but I stopped there, as amazon.de happily delivers to us.)
Here they are:
"Trinkglas-Deckel Schirmchen" is more or less "Little 'Brolly' Drinking Glass Covers." They're stiff heavy plastic, and you can see how the concentric ribbing inside them will help them snug down onto just about any size of drinking glass.
At €16 for a set of six, which would probably turn into sort of $20 at the moment, I wouldn't call these cheap. (It's worse in the UK. Amazon.co.uk will charge you £23 and change for the same item.) ...Yet at the same time, if you were to buy them, you wouldn't need another set any time soon. They're solid and well made, even heavy-duty. As an anti-bug measure, they work way better than the kind of cardboard beer mats you get from bars: they're heavy enough not to blow off your glass. And the shape of them means that if it suddenly starts raining, none of the water will get in your drink.
So: 10/10, would buy again if necessary (though I can't think why that would be). And I heartily recommend them for those of you who like the look of them, and for whom the price isn't a problem.
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theoutcastrogue · 2 years
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Knives for Commoners
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Precious daggers are cool and all, but I’m very fond of simple pocket knives, made to get shit done. So here are a few farmer / peasant knives, ranging from penknife- to sickle-sized.
1. Grafting knife (greffoir) from Thiers, France
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This little multi-tool has a curved blade (very used and sharpened, it was originally wider) and a smaller wavy blade. It’s primarily for cutting the stock plant and the plant shoot (or bud) that you mean to graft, though it’s also good for small pruning jobs and general utility. It locks by slipjoint, the standard pocket knife locking mechanism that you’ll find in Swiss army knives. The small flat thing is a bark lifter, it’s made of bone and it’s used for bud grafting: when you insert a bud beneath the bark of a stem, you have to be extra careful to not injure the bark, so you don’t want sharp edges there.
The handle has scales of bone, carved like this in order to look like stag (which is rarer and more expensive). A similar way to accomplish this is “jigged bone” scales, found in a lot of old/classic American and English knives:
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Sheffield hunting knife by Joseph Allen / American folding knife by Camillus
which I honestly think is too... regular, sometimes it looks machine-made even when it’s handmade. But this handle here is sculpted, it’s a work of art, I love it.
Manufactured sometime in *waves vaguely* the 20th century (probably 1930s-1960s) by the cutlery A. Bardin-Dozolmé. The blade is stamped “57 BARDIN Garanti”, which tells us nothing useful, this stamp’s been around since the 18th century. It’s 9.2 cm closed and 14.7 cm open. (3.62 / 5.79 inches)
2. Pruning knife (trinxet) from Mallorca, Spain
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I’ve shown you this before, it’s got a curved carbon steel blade, a horn handle, and “friction lock” as they call it nowadays i.e. no lock whatsoever, it’s a clasp knife. And it’s the simplest, most convenient tool, I adore it.
Made by the cutlery Hermanos Campins in Consell, Mallorca, stamped “HNOS CAMPINS / CONSELL”, mid-20th century, 9.7 cm closed and 17 cm open. (3.82 / 6.7 inches)
3. Shepherd knife (couteau de berger) from Corsica, France
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Another clasp knife (doesn’t lock), different shape, with a ram horn handle. Shepherd knives look like utility or bushcraft knives, their blades are not usually curved but they often have a clip-point shape, and they’re quite sturdy.
This is an outlier, it wasn’t really made for work, it’s for tourists or collectors. However, it’s handmade in the tradition of Corsican knife-making (as opposed to the more famous vendetta knives which were manufactured in mainland France, though I should clarify this shape isn’t uniquely Corsican either, it was widespread in both France and Italy), with a couple of modern touches: the blade is forged with a decorative flair, and the horn is first carved at the ridges (to emphasise it’s ram, I’m guessing) and then polished like a mirror.
It’s a strong, solid knife, and absolutely gorgeous.
Made by a local knife-maker (unfortunately I don’t know the name, the blade is signed but with a symbol) in Sartène, Corsica, maybe a decade ago. 11.5 cm closed and 19 cm open. (4.53 / 7.48 inches)
4. Folding billhook (roncola) from Italy
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Billhooks are farming tools for cutting and pruning, though usually they have fixed blades. This one isn’t just folding, it’s an actual picklock, like a switchblade. (I mean with the same locking mechanism, it doesn’t open automatically or anything). The blade is carbon steel (that’s a lot of carbon, folks!) and the handle is beautiful, made of carved wood, with brass (I think) insets, and with a fancy external backspring.
Folding billhooks were exported from Italy to the UK. From 1961, a lot of them were imported by Whitby Knives, stamped “Whitby”, and were made in Maniago by Mauro Mario, a prolific knife-maker who also made a ton of switchblades. They looked like this:
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The one I got looks earlier to me, but honestly I have no idea when it’s from. Early 20th? Late 19th? *uncertain noises* In any case, it’s 12 cm closed and 22.5 cm open. (4.72 / 8.86 inches)
5. Huge pruning knife (saca tripas) from Guanajuato, Mexico
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And last but not least, a big fuck-off pruning knife, which locks securely with a ratchet and unlocks with a pull-ring. This is basically a folding sickle, you reap stuff with it, and can cut thick branches. The very curved carbon blade (it’s not over-sharpened, that’s its original shape) is stamped with a “J”, and the handle is made of horn, with an iron backspring.
The name is extravagantly bloodthirsty, it means “disemboweller” (saca tripas = “pulls out intestines”), and is of course a misnomer: this isn’t a weapon, it’s a farming tool. (Could it be used as a weapon? Well of course, but so can kitchen knives.) I’m not entirely sure if it’s really called that way, or only as a jest, or for the express purpose of selling one of them to bloodthirsty types, i.e. to morons. [Pet peeve: mislabeling work knives as “military” or “fighting” or “tactical”, when they’re clearly for utility, and often for some specific farming job. I even saw an ad for a knife like this describing it as a torture implement, for fuck’s sake people, IT’S FOR CUTTING PLANTS.]
So anyway, these knives can be found all over Mexico, and this one hails from the city of Guanajuato, or at least it was bought there at some point. It’s 16 cm closed and 28.5 cm open. (6.3 / 11.22 inches)
The lot of them
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Despite the fact that all these are work knives (except the Corsican, but only technically: it emulates a specific, older work knife, and it’s still 100% functional), a clear effort has been made to make them pretty. And I LOVE this. Even the trinxet, which has a monochrome handle and no frills at all, is elegant in its simplicity, and they all have something going on, carvings, decorations, handles shaped to please the eye, materials chosen for their nice colour.
Aesthetically speaking, I think knives went to shit when plastic was adopted. (Practically speaking, I admit plastic is a lot more resistant to the elements; a handle of horn or bone must be kept dry or it shrivels, wood must be kept from dryness or it shrinks, bugs and mites eat it, it’s a mess.)
Not one blade here is stainless steel, and it shows.
Only the handle of the grafting knife (the smallest one) has scales riveted on a metal frame. Not coincidentally, it’s the most industrial production, it came out of a Thiers factory. (Thiers is a major cutlery centre, like Sheffield and Solingen.) The rest were hand-made in a workshop or at most a cottage industry (a bunch of people in a village construct parts and someone assembles them), and their handles are solid blocks of material (horn or wood), with a slit in the middle to fit the folded blade. That’s the simpler, older construction.
Folding knives are cool.
@tuulikki​. And @victoriansword​, @petermorwood​, @peashooter85​, I know you’re into the fancy stuff, but here I am plying humbler wares and hoping. :)
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blood-mocha-latte · 9 months
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HAPPY HOLIDAYS @ep6bastogne!!! i was your secret santa :)))
i got a little bit (read: very very very much) carried away with your insanely good prompts, and have written a three part fic for your gift, one part of which will be published today! you asked for modern baberoe angst, and i did my best to meet those standards ;)
read part two HERE :))
read it FULL FIC on ao3 here <3
i.  turn on the laugh track everyone knows you're a wreck you're never this quiet, your smile is cracking you just haven't found what you're looking for yet
4 December
He wakes up, heart trying to break through his ribs, and kicks out in a panic. It’s hot, and sweat seems to boil on his forehead as he finds the sheets under him, kicking out a second time, lungs rattling against his spine.
He manages to throw off the heavy comforter, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He blinks blearily at the wall, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the icy hand that lands on his lower back.
“Where’d you go?” Eugene murmurs, voice sleep-thick and accent heavy, and Babe turns to look over his shoulder, breath still shaky. 
“Dream.” He says, by way of explanation. Gene’s hand, as freezing as it ever is, leaves his back and he almost misses it. “Just… the comforter.” He stares at the wall of Eugene's bedroom for half a heartbeat, blinks, and stands up. “‘M gonna walk around for a moment. D’you need anything?” Gene rolls onto his stomach, settling into the warm spot that Babe left behind. 
“I can get rid of the blankets, ‘f you want.” He says into Babe's pillow, already dropping off again, and Babe’s chest floods with equal parts warmth and near-embarrassment. “‘M plenty warm.” 
Contrary to his words, he burrows further into the bed. Babe can’t help but huff a laugh. It makes his chest hurt.
“Nah.” He says, and has to clear his throat at the roughness that settled there. “Nah, it’ll be good for me to move around. You need the sleep, anyways.”
Gene’s response is a small huff into the mattress. Babe hurts at the sight of him, and tugs the comforter down over his bare ankle before he leaves the bedroom.
He hasn’t been over at Gene’s a lot, since… everything, but he still remembers which floorboards to step on to avoid making noise. He still remembers where the coffee pot is, where to find the mugs and the cereal and the butter knives. 
He just needs the mug and the coffee pot, but he checks the cutlery drawer just to make sure he’s right about the knives.
(He is.)
Either Gene or one of his roommates had gotten the coffee ready the night before, so all Babe has to do is push the button on the machine and lean back against the kitchen island. He watches the glass pot and avoids thinking.
It’s been weeks, and the one thing Babe’s certain of is that the dreams are usually better, with Gene. Not as vivid. The main problem, it seems, is that Eugene is capable of freezing to death in the Sahara Desert and Babe doesn’t sleep with blankets. Not anymore.
To be fair, he doesn’t do a lot of things anymore.
The coffee machine beeps, and it blinks him back to the present. He grabs a mug from the cabinet — clearly Gene’s, from the words that proclaim it as a part of Beck’s Cajun Cafe, which Luz had gotten him last Christmas — and fills it so that it almost spills over the lip. 
He leans back against the island, afterwards, not wanting to sit down. He taps his fingertips against the ceramic of the mug. 
Last Christmas. Huh. He wonders what he’ll get Gene this Christmas, if he’ll get him anything at all.
He remembers enough to know which floorboards creak in an apartment he slept at one night out of twenty, but he’d forgotten how light of a sleeper that Ralph Spina tends to be.
“Hey,” Spina says, in question, and Babe just about has a heart attack, coffee splashing over the lip of his mug.
“Fuck.” Babe greets back, looking around for the paper towels. He finds them next to the stove, which. Seems unsafe. But hey, he ain’t a doctor. Spina shuffles over to the counter, dropping into one of the barstools. 
His hair is sticking up in all directions, beard scruffy. The bruises under his eyes are smudged purple, and his hoodie has a stain at the stretched out collar. He looks, Babe thinks, more like Crazy Joe McClosky than a paediatrician.
“You look like shit.” Spina offers, and Babe shrugs a shoulder, turning on his heel to grab another coffee mug. He glances at the clock on the microwave. Almost four in the morning.
“Yeah, well.” He says, pours a second mug for Spina. “Guess it’s the time of the year.” Spina grunts.
“Tell me about it.” He mutters, reaching out a hand as Babe shuffles back around the kitchen island, giving him the coffee. “Goddamn, I don’t even work ER.” Babe hums. It’s absent.
“I’ve never seen Gene so knocked out.” He says dryly, plopping down into the stool next to him. “I mean, I could still twitch and he’d wake up, but he’ll fall asleep afterwards. Which, progress.” Spina huffs, blows on his mug.
“You’re datin’ someone with more restless energy than a goddamn hamster.” He tells his coffee. Babe shrugs, takes a sip of his own.
“Yeah,” He says, “‘cept we’re not dating.” Spina blinks at him, but otherwise seems unbothered. He slouches in his stool.
“Shit, really?” He asks, and then seems to backtrack. “I mean, I knew you weren’t, like, going out last month, but I thought that since…” He trails off, shrugs with his coffee. It sloshes in its mug. Babe just shrugs.
He stares at the kitchen counter. November hadn’t counted, for… whatever him and Gene are. Have become. November isn’t a part of them. 
“Nah.” He says. “We’re just… stress relief, I guess.” Spina shoots him an unbelieving look over his coffee, but doesn’t say anything else. 
“Jesus,” He mutters, shifting in the barstool. “And here I was thinkin’ my life is complicated. You’re playing 4D chess in a twelve dimension world, my friend.” Babe snorts, braces his elbows against the counter. 
“It ain’t that bad, in all honesty.” He says, and his skin seems to burn. He shivers to throw off the sensation, tries to forget the comforter that’s now wrapped around Gene. “Just… hectic. But, hell. ‘Tis the motherfucking season.”
Spina grins at him, and it’s wry. “Yeah.” He agrees. “‘Least you don’t gotta worry too much about Gene, then. If you two are just friends. No Christmas obligations.” Babe huffs. When he brings his mug back to his lips, the coffee tastes like ash.
“Think he’s goin’ back down to Louisiana, anyways.” He says. “The week of. He’s been tryin’ to get time off.” Spina shrugs.
“Hope he does.” He says. 
“Yeah.” Babe says back. He doesn’t really, though. He doesn’t want to think about having to sleep in his own room again, where it’s cold and there’s no blankets and both of those things are his own fault, but there’s no Gene, either. Spina leans forward, trying to find the microwave clock around Babe, and huffs.
“Alright.” He says, smacking his palms flat against the counter and standing up. “Time for work.”
“Godspeed.” Babe says dryly. Spina snorts.
“‘Tis the season,” He repeats, downing the rest of his coffee and putting the mug in the sink. “Lots of little kid sniffles. Hell, maybe if I’m lucky, someone will come in with the flu.” 
Before Babe can reply, he turns on his heel, makes his way back to his bedroom. The floorboards creak under his feet, he either doesn’t know which ones not to step on or doesn’t care. Babe stares after him for a moment, thinking, before finishing off his own coffee and heading back to Gene’s room.
Eugene’s still asleep, when he gets there, wrapped in the sheets and comforter and whatever extra blankets he’d picked up along the way, face still buried in Babe’s pillow.
Well. It's Genes pillow. But Babe uses it.
He tugs the comforter back down over his ankle again when he passes Gene, as it’s ridden back up, and turns the corner of the mattress to find his jeans.
He’s just in boxers (which he thinks may be Eugene’s) and whatever white t-shirt that was on his floor yesterday morning, so he just does up the pants and finds his shoes. He thinks he’s being rather stealthy, but Gene still stirs in the bed, pushing up onto his elbows and squinting at Babe.
“Time?” He asks, voice croaky, and Babe just shrugs, waving his hand absently towards the door of the bedroom, out to where the kitchen is.
“‘Bout four.” He says, finding his shoes kicked haphazardly under the bed. “I’m gonna head off.”
Gene huffs, face dropping back down into his pillow. “‘Kay.” He tells it, voice muffled. “Good luck.”
Babe wrinkles his nose at him, confused, but the rumpled blankets that is Gene isn’t moving anymore, and Babe thinks he might have fallen back asleep. He shoves his feet back into the shoes, not bothering to untie the laces, makes sure his fly is closed, smoothes back his hair, and turns on his heel.
Before he leaves the room, he turns back one more time. For science. “See you later,” He says, and when Gene doesn’t move, tacks on, “fuckbuddy.”
Eugene groans. He hates it when Babe says that.
Babe laughs, opening and closing the door behind him. 
--
The thing about him and Gene is that he doesn’t really remember how it started. 
Not in the way one wakes up in the morning with whiskey stale on their breath and a nagging feeling of forgetting something. Not even in the way of doing something for so long that it becomes muscle memory.
If he had to guess, it would probably be because Babe doesn't want to look too hard at it. At them.
Maybe like how in a dream, one can't focus too much on a singular detail or they'll wake up. 
Maybe Babe doesn't want to think too hard about what they're doing because if he does, it might all fall apart. 
--
The Christmas season is marked in Philadelphia by a number of things, but one of Babe's favourites are the lights that wind around the metal staircase that lead down from Gene’s apartment, twinkling red and green and half of the bulbs burnt out. Snow dusts the street and the cars parked on it, another addition to the small reminders of dawning holidays. 
He runs his fingers across the wire of the lights as he skips down the icy steps, other hand in his pocket. When he exhales, his breath explodes across his face in white fractals, blown away by the wind. 
His own apartment is only four or five blocks down from Gene’s, and in the early hour his only adversary is the biting cold that stings across his cheeks and neck. He shoves both hands into his pockets when he makes it down the staircase, turning on his heel to the left.
He sleeps at Gene’s maybe once a week, now. Less frequently, in the past, but since…
Well, November doesn’t count.
He’d chosen the wrong type of shoes to walk in the greying, half frozen sludge that skims across the streets, and it soaks through the soles of his sneakers in no time at all. It makes him slip more against the pavement, little to no traction against the old brick.
Him and Eugene began to sleep together a little over a year ago; when Gene had started residency at the urgent care clinic in South Philly and Babe had been working at the auto repair shop since he’d graduated.
Gene still works at the urgent care clinic in South Philly, but Babe’s situation has become more… complicated.
As if on cue, a car horn honks — the first warning of someone trying to get to work, and Babe speeds up slightly in an attempt to avoid the majority of the incoming flood of traffic.
He likes sleeping over at Eugene’s, anyways. The sex is great — which is a given, looking at how long they’ve been doing this — but Babe just also… likes Gene’s place. Likes his creaky floorboards and coffee machine. Likes sleeping with Gene, who wakes up at the drop of a hat but falls back asleep just as easily.
And Gene must like him staying over, anyhow, because otherwise Babe would have woken up at his own apartment.
A Honda Civic speeds down the road, and Babe only barely manages to avoid the wave of slush from the gutter that it dredges up in an icy spray over the curb. He’d consider shouting at the car, but it’s already gone and his feet are fucking freezing. 
He makes it back to his own apartment in a little bit under half an hour, and trods up the undecorated staircase that leads up to his building with little excitement. His shoes squeak against the smoothed over cement that leads its way to their door.
It’s unlocked, and Babe thinks if one of them is gonna get murdered, that’ll probably be why.
“Hey.” He greets as he hits open their door, peeling off his soaking shoes and socks in the entryway. Bill is stretched out across the couch, foot dangling over the side of the armrest, and he raises a hand absently, eyes on the TV.
“Was startin’ to think you moved out while I was asleep.” He says, scratching absently at his chest. “You’ve been gone for so goddamn long.” Babe snorts.
It’s been less than a day since he left the apartment, and when he pads into the kitchen area, his empty cereal bowl is still in the sink. He huffs. “‘Love you too, Guarno.” He mutters, picking up the plastic tupperware and shoving it into the overflowing dishwasher. He pokes at it gingerly, trying to get it to start. It doesn’t, and he waves a hand at it, dismissive.
“How’s the Doc?” 
“Fine. Tired. Goddamn Christmas season, huh? Ice and cold and terrible people.” Bill sighs.
“You gotta stop spending time with Roe.” He says, shoving his palms under him and shoving up against the couch cushions. “He’s ruining your sense of whimsy.” Babe snorts.
“To be fair, we don’t do much talking.” He says, and Bill groans. “Where’s Toye?”
“Somewhere.” Bill says, vaguely, which is just Bill-talk for no fucking clue. “With Luz, probably. Why? I don’t think he’ll be easily regaled by your tales.” Babe wrinkles his nose.
“Regaled.” He repeats. “You gotta stop spending time on the documentary channel. It’s rotting your brain out of your head.”
“Awe, fuck you.” Bill says, good-natured. Babe just snorts another laugh and opens the fridge. It’s mostly just leftovers and a bottle of ketchup that Bill keeps watering down. “You… you have a good time?” 
Babe pulls out half a cheesesteak, wrapped in tinfoil and shoved in the fridge door. He peels back the foil just enough to smell it, suspicious. “Sure.” He says, not really listening. “How old is this?”
Bill grunts, reaching over the arm of the couch to grab his crutches. “Dunno.” He says. “When was the last time we saw Compton?”
Babe peels the foil back further. There’s mould growing on the edge of the bread, and he holds the sandwich up to eye level to squint at it. At least three months, then. He turns on his heel to find a plate and a knife.
He’s cutting the mould off of the cheesesteak with a butter knife when Bill says, words accompanied by the thud of his crutches against the cheap wood floors, “ya plannin’ on going back over there tomorrow?” Babe's hands still only slightly, and he goes back to sawing at the bread.
“Probably not.” He says. “Gene has a shift at three.” 
“So after that?”
“He don’t get off until three the next day.” Babe peels back the bread. The cheese looks fine, mostly. A little discoloured. Bill whistles.
“Damn.” He says, and Babe grunts. “You couldn’t date someone with a sensible schedule?”
“We’re not dating.” 
The meat looks mostly fine, too. Babe drops the knife in the sink with the clatter and pads back out of the kitchen, passing Bill on the way. He sits in the sofa chair next to the couch, a spring digs into his back. He sends a half-hearted prayer to Saint Nicholas that the cheesesteak won’t kill him and digs in. 
He can feel Bill’s eyes on him. “Yeah.” Bill says, from behind him. His crutches thunk against the floors. “I know, Babe.”
Babe grunts around the sandwich. He thinks that Bill might go back into his room, but he can’t tell. He can’t bring himself to care, anyways.
10 November
He can hear Lip shouting for him, and screams back as loud as he can. Then, when there’s no answer, he screams again. 
The metal is hot against his leg, fucking searing, and the rocker panel of the car keeps his arm and chest pinned under it. He swears, frantic, looking around. Everywhere around him is black, the same darkness, smelling of oil and grease and everything else. His breaths are coming in more and more shallow, every one punched out of his burning chest.
“Lip!” He screams again. His voice is hoarse, it hurts to yell. He hopes that Lip will find him before he can’t breathe at all. “Lip! I’m in here, I’m in here, I can’t fucking move—”
Lip shouts his name again, louder this time, and Babe reaches out frantically with the one arm he can move, grasping around, futile. His open palm comes into contact with the deflated tire of the Mustang, and he hits against it, frantic. 
The Mustang had crumpled suddenly, the back left lift stand giving out while Babe was trying to figure out what was wrong with the transfer case. The right one had buckled shortly after, and, in a panic, Babe had tried to kick off on the creeper, only effectively kicking it out from under him. 
The Mustang let out a great, trembling, shaking groan, and dropped down all at once, all around him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his ribs hurt, he can feel his heart in his throat and in his toes at the same time. There’s something wet running down his face; he can’t tell if it’s oil or tears. 
He throws both hands out in front of him, like they can stop the four-thousand pounds of car that are about to collapse on top of him, like he can bring back the shitty LED lights that are supposed to be easily seen, like he can—
“Lipton—” He yells again. He can hear the metal across the bottom of the car creaking. “Lip! Bill? Someone fucking—”
He kicks out his legs at the same time the Mustang makes another loud, metallic, screeching, and a hand grabs onto his ankle and pulls, pulls—
He’s crying, and he’s well aware of it, and he still can’t fucking see anything, face streaked in grease and oils and tears and whatever else, and Lipton’s hands are on his shoulders, dragging him further away from the Mustang.
They drop, unceremoniously, a few yards away, and Babe blinks rapidly enough that he can start to see the lights again, eyes burning. He trembles, trying to push away from Lip, realises that there’s probably fuel and whatever else in his eyes, and Lip’s palm comes up and cuffs him carefully across the cheek, getting him to hold still. 
“S’alright.” Lip mutters, and his voice is hoarse. The hand not on Babe’s face is tight around his bicep, and Babe squeezes his eyes shut again, before they can begin to burn worse. “S’alright, boy. Everything’s alright.”
--
4 December
All of Babe’s blankets are in the corner of his room in a pile, and for a while, he even contemplated stripping off the fitted sheet and throwing that away, too. 
He wakes up facedown, in the middle of his mattress and slightly nauseous, and thinks about Gene wrapped up in the comforter, all black hair and bare feet. It comforts him, some.
He sits up on his elbows, slightly shaky, and scrubs a hand down his face. His face is clammy, his palm more so. He blames it on the cheesesteak.
The reason for his rousing becomes clear when he hears Toye, voice low and rough and unintelligible through his bedroom door, say something to Bill. He rolls over onto his back, grimacing when his knee twinges — it rarely does, anymore, but sometimes it acts up — and stares up at the ceiling.
He looks over to his side, turning his cheek into the fitted sheet of his bed, and reaches out to grip at his phone, dragging the screen closer to his face. Almost three in the afternoon.
He stares blearily at the home screen of his phone for half a second before dropping it again, pressing his hands flat against the mattress and pushing himself up off of the bed. 
Toye and Bill are arguing about something or the other in the front room, so Babe pulls his t-shirt over his head from the back collar and throws it absently over his dresser, searching for something cleaner.
He wonders if Gene is awake. Gene can sleep like the dead (and does, Babe would know), but he doubts that even something so beating and exhausting as ER’s in December would keep him down for that long. 
He wonders if he should text him, and decides against it.
They're only friends, after all. Not even best friends, at that, because Babe’s best friend is Bill and Gene’s is Renèe Lemaire. 
Friends. Casual friends. Casual friends don't text each other after napping all day in the middle of a mattress with only a fitted sheet and waking up both freezing and burning to death. 
Just friends.
He finds a Philly Eagles shirt crumpled up in the corner of his sock drawer and shrugs it on. It's stretched at the collar and faded to all hell, but it'll do and he pushes out of his room and back to the front room without much more preamble.
“Hey,” He greets Toye and Bill, when he does. They've ceased their shouting at each other for the moment, apparently putting aside their differences to face the common foe (the recliner, which tends to stick) and neither of them look up to greet him. 
Toye has his cast-ridden leg stretched out beside him, propped on the low-to-the-ground coffee table. Bill’s own knee brace is tossed on the couch; he's terrible about wearing it. Babe leaves them to it and wanders into the kitchen, absently scratching at the back of his leg.
The reason that it had taken so long for Lip to find him, Babe had learned afterwards, in the hospital with tear streaks cutting humiliating tracks through the oil on his face, is that a fire had started in the back room of the auto shop.
He opens the fridge. There’s nothing new, but Babe didn’t think there would be. It’s more out of habit than anything else, and he closes it just as quickly as he opened it.
“Could it be a screw?”
“Nah, nah, it ain’t no screw, Joe, ‘cause if it was a screw, it would be workin’, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t know, Bill, guess I left my fuckin’ brain with George—”
“Ah, Christ, and isn’t that a tragedy? Luz’ll drop it, for sure—”
Babe moves back out of the kitchen and moves to the front door, picking up his left shoe. It’s still wet and cold, but not soaking, so he cuts his losses and shoves it and the other on, leaving his socks on the floor.
He wonders, vaguely, if he should grab his coat before he leaves, and even spares a short glance at the heavy, quilted coat that hangs limply next to the door. But his skin still burns, and he forgoes it, opening the front door.
“Be back later!” He shouts over his shoulder, and the response is a nonsensical shout from Bill and a grunt from Toye. He snorts and closes the door behind him, shoving his hands back into his jeans pockets and skips back down the steps to the street.
The cold bites into his skin, and he regrets just wearing a t-shirt and jeans but doesn’t want to go back into the apartment, so he turns on his heel and begins walking left, exhaling hard through his nose.
He doesn't have a problem with their apartment, per se; having two roommates to Gene’s one can be frustrating, but Bill and Toye are two of his best friends. They're just… loud.
Besides, the one thing that he had realised after he'd gotten out of the hospital, with minimal scrapes and bruises to Skip Muck and Alex Penkala’s third degree burns; with occasional, stupid nightmares to Joe Toye’s leg, broken in eighteen places and Bill’s sprained knee, black and blue and swollen, is that their apartment is… crowded. Cluttered.
Like it's going to collapse on top of him.
He shivers and pretends it’s because of the cold, and after a block and a half, ends up in front of a corner shop that's signage proudly declares itself one of sole caterers of fresh catfish in Philly.
He stares at the sign for a moment, then at the glaring red OPEN marker, and pushes through the door.
--
6 December
“I just think you're sort of freaking out, is all.” Babe says, and picks up a glittery pink pen, curious. It has shiny, turquoise feathers at the end of it. From behind him, Joe Liebgott snorts and hits him lightly on the ass with the shopping cart. 
“I don't freak out.” He says, putting extra emphasis on the extra two words, which does nothing but further convince Babe that he is freaking out. “He’s just weird about this shit. I'd like to get him somethin’ nice.”
“Yeah, but Web doesn't give two shits about Christmas, Joe. I think it would just make him think you were dying, or something.” Liebgott waves Babe away absently, pushing the cart past him. 
The only reason that Babe had agreed (i.e. was forced by Bill) to go shopping with Liebgott was because he'd made the mortal mistake of getting up at a reasonable hour. Gene was at work, and Babe was hungry, and Bill’s leg hurt, and Liebgott hates shopping alone. 
So. Here he is.
“Just get him a book, or something.” Babe says, dodging the cart when Joe pushes it forward again. “Vonnegut?” Joe snorts.
“If you can find a book that Web doesn't have, I'll get it, but it would probably have to be in library of fucking Alexandria.” He says. “I'd be better off just writing something.”
Babe doesn't say anything, mostly because he's pretty sure that Web would love it if Joe wrote something. Instead, he crosses into another aisle and picks up a plastic snow globe, turning it over in his palm.
Over the crackling speakers, Mariah Carey is singing about something or the other. The artificial lighting in the store is making his head hurt. Babe feels… almost normal. 
“You could get him a watch,” He offers to Liebgott, nodding to the glass cases towards the back of the shop. Liebgott waves a hand dismissively, pushing the cart forwards again, leaning his elbows on the bar of it. 
“Does Web seem like someone that has any idea what time it is, ever?” He asks, and Babe shrugs, hands going back to his pockets. 
“Web doesn't seem like someone who would date you.” He says absently, and Liebgott looks like he's somewhere in between telling Babe to go fuck himself and agreeing with him. In the end, he just jerks the cart to hit Babe again.
“Christ,” He says, and looks like he's halfway to just giving up, which Babe would encourage. “You're not doin’ any better. You have any idea what you're getting the Doc?” 
Babe shrugs. He still thinks that whatever Liebgott could possibly get for Web would just unsettle him. They don't seem like the type of people to be all… filled with the Christmas spirit, and all.
“We're not dating,” He says, in reference to Gene. Liebgott turns to squint at him over his shoulder.
“I know.” He says. “I'm not stupid, Doc can do much better than a Philadelphian frog.” Before Babe can even open his mouth to protest, Liebgott moves on. “But, you know, he's been good to you. Through all the… the shit that happened last month. And he has to be a good fuck, seeing as it's been, what, a year?”
Babe absently wonders how much of a mess he has to be for Liebgott to know almost everything about him. Then he decides that Liebgott probably only knows because he knows everything Webster knows, and Webster knows everything that Hoobler knows, and Hoobler knows everyone. He decides to blame Bill anyways.
“What the hell would I even get him?” He asks under his breath, almost to himself, and Liebgott snorts a wry laugh. 
“Do I look like I know what I'm doing?” He retorts.
-- 
10 November
Babe hasn't left the goddamn hospital yet, and everything's starting to crush in on him again. 
He's sitting in the gift shop, face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and knows the owner of the ice-cold hand that brushes his wrist immediately. 
“Is anyone out of surgery yet?” He asks, voice hoarse, and Gene kneels down in front of him, pulling his hands away from his face. He looks almost haggard; the corners of his mouth pulled down, eyes near-sunken and dark. 
“Muck is in recovery,” He says, and his accent is thick with exhaustion. Babe can't be faring much better. “Penkala is still under, but he shouldn't be as bad as Skip. Not as many skin grafts, at least.”
Babe almost faceplants into his hands again, but Gene tightens his grip on his wrists. His eyes are dark, near piercing.
“Toye’s femur was bad enough that amputation was considered, but it's set now and looking better. Guarnere’s knee is looking like it’s just a bad sprain, so long as he stays off of it.” He says, and Babe tugs a hand away from Genes to scrub at his face.
“Anyone else?” Gene leans back on his heels, starts counting on his fingertips.
“Lip’s got a concussion, but it ain't bad. You'd think he'd caught grenade fragmentation, from the look on Speirs’ face when we told him. Perconte’s got a few second degrees, but they don't look too bad. Wynn’s the same. Everyone else is mostly doin’ fine.” Gene pauses, like he wants to say something else. “They’re worried about you, though.”
Babe huffs. He rubs at his eyes until black spots burst against them, then drops his hand back to his lap. “I'm fine.” He says, voice rough.
He's got a cut across his left brow, but it didn't need stitches. He sprained his ankle, when the rocker panel had first dropped, and had been coated in oil and fuel and grease until he'd managed to scrub down in one of the hospital showers, but he's fine. He's not hurt like the others are. He was just… stuck. Not even for ten whole minutes.
Gene looks at him like he doesn't believe him. “Edward,” He says carefully, the blue of his eyes so dark they're nearly black. “Lipton told me that you couldn't see—”
“I had fuel in my eyes.” Babe tells him, looking somewhere over Gene’s shoulder. “It— Lip helped me wash them out with a water bottle and they're okay now.”
Gene watches him. Not like he doesn't believe Babe; more like he's trying to solve Babe, like he's a puzzle. 
“I got off an hour and a half ago,” He says, and Babe almost winces.
“Sorry.” He mutters. Gene started working his new schedule only a week or two ago, Babe can't imagine working over twenty-five hours in a single shift.
“No.” Gene says vaguely, jerking his head over his shoulder. “I mean that I'm off. I'm gonna take you home.” 
Babe blinks. “Oh,” He says. “To your place?” The corner of Gene's mouth quirks up. It's not a happy gesture.
“No.” He says. “To your apartment. Guarnere and Toye are staying overnight. I can walk you home?” 
It's not phrased like a question, but Gene asks it like it's one. Babe blinks down at Gene’s fingers, which are still carefully wrapped around Babe’s wrist, and nods before he can catch himself. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Take — take me home, okay?”
--
9 December
He knocks on the door of Gene's apartment, and prays in the frantic seven seconds before the door opens that Gene’s actually home.
But he is, and he swings the door open, and when Eugene sees him he blinks and steps back half a pace. 
“Hey.” He says. He looks good, because of course he does; it's Gene. He's barefoot, wearing a faded blue t-shirt and black sweatpants, the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears a bright red. It makes Babe's chest hurt, but that doesn't count for anything. Everything makes Babe’s chest hurt.
“Hi,” Babe says back, and awkwardly holds up the plastic bag in his left hand. It swings in the air, and Gene’s eyes land on it. 
(So blue they're almost black.)
“I brought stuff.” Babe tells him, and wonders if this was a bad idea. Probably. “Uh, food stuff. Seafood stock, roux, tomatoes, peppers, catfish—”
Gene blinks at him. “For courtbouillon.” He says, and Babe nods, relieved.
“Yeah.” He says. “I, uh. I think you talked about it one time, after we…” He gestures vaguely, and feels the back of his neck start to burn. “Uh. Anyways, I figured…”
He trails off a second time, and holds the bag up a little higher. “I googled the ingredients.” He mutters, scuffing the carpet outside of Gene’s apartment with his heel. “I don't know if it's like how your Ma makes it or whatever, but if you ain't able to go home…”
He clears his throat, and prays to God that his flush can be passed off as from the cold, like Gene’s is. He holds the bag out to Gene. “There.” He says.
Gene takes it, face indecipherable. He looks down at the bag, cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and huffs.
“When’d you even think of this?” He asks, and steps further into the apartment at the same time. Babe takes it hesitantly as his invitation inside, and shuts the door behind him.
“Was on a walk.” He said vaguely. “Saw a shop that sold fresh catfish, and remembered you saying something about catfish and soup, so. Yeah.” He clicks his tongue, awkward. His chest hurts.
Gene sets the bag down on their kitchen island, and turns back to Babe, eyes going to cross over his sternum, almost a defensive gesture. Babe clears his throat.
“I know that we're only…” He gestures at Gene, then himself, “but I figured — I dunno. Happy early Christmas, maybe? If you want me to leave—”
“Edward,” Gene interrupts him, a little bit louder than Gene usually is, and Babe looks up as the other crosses the small space between the door and the kitchen. He stops a few inches away, mouth opening slightly like he's trying to gather his words. “It's… this is great.” He smiles, a careful quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks. It — this means a lot, to me.”
Babe blinks at him. His chest still hurts. “Okay.” He murmurs. “Okay.” He says again, clearing his throat a second time. “Should I, uh—”
“Yeah.” Gene says, then tilts his head slightly, as if reading his thoughts. Babe sometimes worries that Gene can read thoughts. He hopes not. Him and Gene are just… just friends. “Yeah, stay.” 
As if to convince him not to leave (Babe doesn't want to, anyways), Gene leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Babe’s mouth before stepping away and moving backwards towards the kitchen. 
Babe blinks. He tries to remember if they've ever done that before. He doesn’t think so. 
He follows Gene to the kitchen.
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topgun-imagines · 2 years
Text
Peppermint Hot Chocolate
Requested: yes
Summary: A vacation in the mountains leads to you and your fiancé enjoying some alone time.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Slight smut. Sexual innuendos.
Pairings: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader
Tumblr media
Snow cascaded down around the car. The long driveway up to the cabin was slightly slippery due to the ice that covered it. Your hand was clasped in your fiancé’s as he drove up to the cozy-looking cabin. You and Ice had planned to take a trip up to Montana for Christmas, choosing to spend the holidays in a cozy cabin with snow rather than a tiny bungalow with lots of sand. The cabin was beautiful. It overlooked a vast mountain range covered in green trees. Fog rolled softly over the bottom of the valley.
When the car stopped, Ice got out first, moving toward the trunk of the car. You followed suit, your hip bumping into his when you stood new to him. That brought a grin to his face. You both grabbed your bags before heading toward the cabin. Ice unlocked the door, looking down at you with a smile that mirrored your own. The inside of the cabin was even more gorgeous than the outside. A beautiful light fixture hung above the beautifully decorated living room. Next to it sat the kitchen and dining room, all furnished with what you would expect to find in the mountains of Montana. It gave the cabin a very homie feel.
You and your fiancé dropped your bags off in the bedroom. Ice lead you back to the living room, sitting down on the couch and pulling you to his chest. “What do you wanna do, baby?” He murmured lowly in your ear, sending shivers up your spine. You tilted your head to the side, allowing him to pepper kisses over your neck and jaw. The soft scratch of the stubble he had been growing out recently caused you to giggle quietly. You could feel Ice smile into the crook of your neck.
“Hmm,” You hummed quietly, turning your head to capture his lips with your own. His tongue nudged against your bottom lip softly. Pulling back from the kiss, you half-smirked at the groan that came from Ice. He rested his forehead against yours. “How about we eat then check out the hot tub?” You suggested. The trip up to the cabin had consisted of two days full of driving. You had gotten up early in the morning that day, meaning that you had arrived just before you would usually have dinner. He nodded softly, pressing one more kiss to your lips before standing from the couch.
The pair of you began to make dinner, Ice searing the pork while you tossed the salad. It appeared to be a smart idea to stop for groceries before coming up to the cabin. Dinner was done shortly after. You and your fiancé sat at the large dining room table next to the windows that overlooked the valley. You smiled softly when Ice lit the candles at the center of the table.
A calm and peaceful ambiance filled the cabin. The only sounds that could be heard throughout it were the soft scraping of forks and knives and your soft chatter with Ice. When you were finished you stood from the table and headed to the sink. The dishes were washed in silence. Suddenly, a genius plan entered Ice’s mind. When you were distracted with drying your cutlery, he tipped his plate at just the right angle, sending streams of water toward you. He chuckled heartily at your surprised shriek. When you pouted at him playfully he only grinned and pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of your face.
The rest of the dishes were washed without incident, leading to where you and Ice were now. Standing across from each other on opposite sides of the bed, you were each digging through your suitcases in search of your swimsuits. Of course, seeing as you live in sunny Mirimar, you had many swimsuits that were perfect for the warm weather. However, seeing as you were going to be in a much colder climate for the next week, you had only brought one of your more insulated swimsuits. Your fiancé, strangely enough, seemed to have a strange affinity with ice baths, which is why the only thing he brought was a pair of loose-fitting trunks. If you had to guess, you’d estimate that he didn’t just plan on simply relaxing in the hot tub. Knowing him, he had a much dirtier idea in mind.
You pulled the swimsuit from your bag before glancing up to see Ice. You were instantly lost in your thoughts, mind reeling as you tonight about how much you loved him. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that Ice usually wasn’t a very affectionate person but you were the one to change that. Ever since Ice had met you, it was as if he decided to abandon the reputation he had made for himself years ago. You knew that before you came into the picture, Ice was very well known for not being close with anyone except Slider. But the second he met you, any presence of his cold exterior melted away.
An arm winding around your waist and a gentle kiss against the side of your head pulled you from your daydream. “Whatcha thinkin about, baby?” He murmured softly against your skin. A soft, domestic smile grew on your face. When you glanced up to meet his eyes, you saw a similar one beaming down at you. You only hummed, reassuring him that it was nothing, before kissing him lightly. He chased your lips when you pulled away, eyes half-lidded. Ice groaned when you pulled away fully. You only grinned, stripping out of your clothes. That seemed to change his attitude rather quickly.
The two of you got changed wordlessly, Ice unable to help himself from stealing glances at you every now and then. When your fiancé was finished getting changed, he headed to the bathroom to retrieve two of the large, fluffy bath towels. He entered the room, stopping short when he saw you bent over, ass very prominently showing through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You strained yourself out, turning to find Ice staring at you starstruck. With a cheeky grin, you turned back around. Slipping your bra from your shoulders, you can feel Ice’s eyes burning into your back. “Can you help me?’ You question in a sickly sweet voice once you had pulled your bikini top on. The next thing you felt was his warm fingers softly brushing against your skin as he carefully knotted the strings.
Moments later you found yourself in the hot tub, nestled up beside Ice as you drank from the spiked hot chocolates you had made. The two of you were sitting in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall over the valley in front of you. You shuddered slightly when you felt his fingertips brush over your shoulder. You thought it was innocent, how his hand drew small shapes into your skin, almost causing you to nod off. However, when his fingers began tugging lightly at the knot he had tied, you instantly knew that you had been wrong. With an amused smile, you turned to face your fiancé.
You found him staring off into the valley with a not-so-subtle smirk on his face. “What are you doing?” You chuckled quietly. His only response was to turn his head and nuzzle into your neck, finger still attempting to undo your top. The stubble on his cheeks rubbing against your neck and face caused you to giggle. You tried to tuck your head, immediately becoming ticklish. ‘Ice stop,” You tried, giggling relentlessly. You could practically feel his smile against your neck as he started peppering kisses on it. Laughing even louder, you tried to move away from him only to find his arm wound around your waist. “Please, that tickles,” You tried one last time. He only shook his head, mumbling something into your skin that you couldn’t quite hear. “What was that?”
When he pulled back so you could hear him clearly, you nearly fell into the hut tub in a fit of laughter. “Suck my candy cane,” He murmured. You were laughing even louder now than you were when he was tickling you. His fingers which had been tugging on your top for the past three minutes had finally undone the strings. You were kind of amazed that it had taken him this long. When your top fell into the water your fiancé’s head shot upwards. There was a teasing smirk on his face as he spoke. “So, what are you waiting for?” Shivers ran down your spine.
“Yes sir.” You replied quickly, already pushing him up to the next ledge of the hot tub. His hand found its way to your hair. You had high expectations that you would be in for a long night.
a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.
328 notes · View notes
ani-coolgirl · 1 year
Text
What You're Looking For
Written for @wincestwednesdays prompt 1: lost
Read here on AO3
When DJ gets home, the house is a wreck.
Not again, he thinks with a sigh, dropping his bag by the door. He checks the wards on the doorframe (unbroken) and makes sure the door slams when he closes it.
“Dad?” he calls, keeping his hands up as he edges further inside. No surprises, no sudden movements. He learned that sneaking back in the house after midnight once when he was a teenager. Swears he can still feel the bruise sometimes. He teased his dad about it exactly once; the utter mortification that crossed his face sort of killed the fun. “You home?”
Of course he is. He doesn’t really get out these days. The doctors say it’s for the best.
Suddenly, Dad blows by him, a whirlwind of anxiety and agitation. “—find them—” DJ catches before his dad disappears into the kitchen. Oh, he hasn’t gotten into the knives yet, at least. That’s good.
DJ catches up with his father just as he yanks open the knick knack drawer. Objects are pulled out and discarded at random—thumbtacks, rubber bands, bottle openers, and scraps of tinfoil pile up on the countertop and spill onto the floor.
“Woah, woah, Dad, slow down—” DJ makes sure he’s in Dad’s line of sight when he lays a hand on the man’s shoulder. He’s only shrugged off, which DJ takes as a win. “What are you looking for?”
Dad steps around him and yanks open the cutlery drawer. Luckily, he takes out the drawer organizer and gives it a shake instead of pulling spoons out one at a time. “I can’t find them.”
“Find what?”
Strangely, his father wrenches the freezer open and peers inside. “The... My...” He snaps his fingers impatiently; the words are gone. The freezer door bangs shut as he pats himself down; then makes a fist under his chin, jerking downward before crossing the room to dig around in the cupboard. A light bulb goes off in DJ’s head.
“They’re in the safe, Dad,” DJ reminds him gently.
Dad spins around, brow furrowed, can of cream corn in one hand. He opens his mouth but then pauses, hesitating. He sets the corn down. “Junior?” he asks tentatively.
DJ nods. “Junior,” not “Dean.” Another good sign. “Yeah.”
Dad pats himself down again but stops himself mid-motion as if scolding himself. DJ waits in silence. His father takes a slow breath and looks him in the eye. “What safe?”
“C’mon.” DJ doesn’t lead him—Dad hates to be led—and also doesn’t check if he’s being followed. If Dad comes, he comes. If not, well, he’ll calm down eventually. He usually does.
Dad follows. DJ goes to the master suite, wincing at the chaos within (Dad started here, obviously), and surreptitiously kicks the piles of clothes littering the floor aside as he heads to the closet. He clicks on the overhead light and motions his dad inside. He can see how Dad missed the safe if he forgot it was there. Unlike the gun safe in the corner (open, but emptied out months ago, thank god; DJ tries not to think about any weapons hidden around the house he might’ve missed), this one is built into the wall with a false panel keeping it hidden. It’s also covered devil’s traps and protection charms, both visible and invisible, some with rather nasty side effects. DJ sets the panel aside, enters the combination (01-24-79), and pulls the door open.
There are a handful of objects in the safe: a few photos, a baseball, a deck of cards. All sorts of odds and ends, all appearing mundane but every one of them containing extraordinary stories (only a few of which DJ’s heard). But the photos and the baseball and the cards are bypassed. He knows exactly what he’s looking for.
His dad looks ready to weep when DJ drops the objects into his hands—a leather necklace with a brass, horned figure and a car key. Stumbling to the bed, his father brings both to his mouth as he drops as if kissing them, eyes sliding shut. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye. “I thought I lost them. I-I- thought I’d—”
DJ sits beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Not an easy task—his dad’s a big guy. “We put them in the safe so you wouldn’t lose them, remember?” he explains, giving a gentle shake. Dad nods but DJ’s fairly certain he’s lying. That’s okay. It’ll come back to him, probably. Softly, he adds, “Do you wanna sit in the car?”
Not the mid-sized electric sitting in the driveway. The other one. The one parked eternally in the garage and covered with a tarp. The one DJ wasn’t even allowed to breathe on until he was almost sixteen. The car.
To his surprise, Dad shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll just—” he sniffs and looks up, eyes clear. He glances around. “The... damn, the house. The house is a mess, I need to—”
He tries to rise. DJ lays a hand on his chest. “Dad, no, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, no, I need to clean up—”
“Dad, I’m telling you, I’ve got it. You should rest, you—”
“No!”
DJ jumps. That’s the drill sergeant voice. The voice he used when he taught DJ how to shoot and made him memorize exorcisms before moving into his dorm. It makes the man sound ten years younger. Dad always gets upset after he realizes he used that voice. Always said it made him think of DJ’s grandpa.
He automatically sits a little a little taller, but Dad’s already softening. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” Dad apologizes. “Just, it’s my mess. I can at least help pick it up. I can do that much. Please.”
As if anyone can say no to that face. DJ nods and Dad’s face cracks into a weak smile. “I think broke a vase,” Dad admits as they stand.
DJ rolls his eyes. “That fake Ming thing? Good. I always thought it was ugly.”
“That was a gift from your mother.”
“That’s probably why she gave it to you, to see if you’d say anything. I’m telling you, she’s laughing at you every time she sees it on the mantle.”
Dad’s laugh is genuine. “That sounds like your mother,” he agrees.
DJ gestures towards the closet. “Want to put them back?”
His dad wavers for a moment but shakes his head no. “Later,” he says. “Go grab the broom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
DJ steps out. But he hangs around for a moment right outside the doorway. Just in case.
For a long moment, there is nothing. But then: “I miss you.”
There’s no question who his father’s talking about. There’s never any other person on his mind when he gets like this. Actually, DJ’s pretty sure that’s who’s always on his mind, and these are the only times he can’t hide it.
Then, so softly DJ almost can’t hear it: “I love you, Dean.”
Love. Not loved. Not past tense. Never past tense. DJ’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not. His dad has always talked about Uncle Dean like that—as if he’s just around the corner, ready to crack open a cold one. That impossible expectation is why his dad and mom never got married, he thinks. When DJ was feeling sort of petty and resentful for not having normal parents (at least you can explain divorce; he never had any idea what to say to other kids on the playground when asked) he figured his dad was a liar. That Uncle Dean was really just Dean because nobody talks about their sibling like that, alive or dead (and DJ’s known people with both). No one but the most devoted widowers mourn like this; as if the world is inalterably changed and it’s everyone else who’s is strange for not seeing it.
But then DJ always remembers the look on his dad’s face the one and only time he asked why he didn’t have a little brother or sister; the haunted look in his eyes when he said, “I want you to live for you, okay?” As a kid, DJ didn’t know what his father meant. Now, knows three things: he had an uncle named Dean; his father will always be wrapped in grief; and he understands. As much as he can, anyway.
DJ gets the broom. A few minutes later, his father appears and together they laugh over the shards of the knock-off vase. As they put the house together, not for the first time this year, DJ thinks it won’t be long before his father finds what he’s really looking for.
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bruisedboys · 2 years
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congrats on 3k ml, so so proud of you, you deserve it and so much more! and if i haven’t said this sooner, i’m in love with your account and your writing is gorgeous, you’re just so incredibly talented, and aerial too <3
I was wondering if I could have KNIVES OUT please? i’ve been in a bit of a rut lately, not really feeling the best all of a sudden and was thinking of something comfort related with pete. maybe something with breathe (muse a holds muse b closely to help them wind down after a stressful day/event) and possibly with a bit of o4 (sender offers receiver an earbud to share their music), maybe as a way to say that they’re there for them without having to say the words and that they’re here to listen when they’re ready to talk?
thank you so much for considering my request and take your time. congratulations again on yet another milestone!
thank you for your request lovely! this was such a good one I loved writing it. and I hope u feel better soon angel!!! x
summary: peter helps you feel better after a bad day
gn!reader 0.9k words
You’re close to tears by the time you get to Peter’s. It’s been a hard day. Your heart hurts and your mind is tired and your body is unfortunately taking the toll. Your limbs ache and your head pounds. Plus, it’s raining, which never helps.
You let yourself in because he gave you a key months ago, along with a little spiderman keyring that you think is simultaneously awful and adorable. At least it makes you smile every time you look at it.
You shed your jacket and shoes at the door, hang your bag on the hook he’d added for you next to his. You can hear him in the kitchen, cutlery and pots and pans jostling around.
“Peter?” You call.
No response, but you think you can hear him humming. He must have his earbuds in.
You make your way to his tiny kitchen, with its overgrown plants that have managed to claim the entire windowsill, and the colourful mismatch of mugs collected over years of thrift shopping. Sure enough, Peter’s stirring something that smells like tomato soup at the stove, earbuds lodged in his ears, the wire threaded under his shirt and into his jeans pocket. He’s humming a song, head bopping as he stirs, and it makes your heart smile.
“Hi, Peter.”
Peter starts, then relaxes when he sees it’s you. A smile stretches across his face like a sunrise. Slow and beautifully warm and golden. He puts down his wooden spoon and takes out his earbuds, letting them dangle over his shirt collar.
“Y/N,” he says, and the way he says your name makes your chest ache. Like he was meant to say it. Like it’s his favourite word in the world. Like maybe he loves you more than you or him can even comprehend. “Hi, honey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
The corner of your mouth lifts in the whisper of a smile. “It’s okay,” you shrug. You peer at the rich red substance on the stove. “Is that tomato soup?”
Peter grins. “Yes, ma’am. I thought we’d have that and grilled cheese.” He strides across the floorboards until he’s right in front of you. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by how lovely and homely he looks. With his soft blue t-shirt, his hair all mussed, freckles glowing in the warm kitchen light. He smells like tomato and garlic and butter. He takes your face in one hand and drags his thumb over your cheekbone. “What d’you think?”
You almost forget what he was talking about in the first place. You blink, overwhelmed by his closeness, by the presence of him. He feels very safe. Safer than you’ve felt all day.
“Sounds good,” you say weakly. You know you sound funny. It hadn’t meant to come out that way, but you were already feeling bad and he’s come along and been so lovely that all of it combined is gonna make you cry.
Peter smiles again, and dips his head to kiss your forehead. His warmth is intoxicating. You want to hug him so badly it hurts. He pulls away, his hand still at your jaw, and he must catch the look on your face because his eyes are suddenly all concern.
“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly a little bit urgent. “You look sad. You’re not sick, are you?”
You shake your head. “No. Um, no, I’m not sick. I just, um.” You swallow. It’s hard to tell him, because you don’t want to ruin how happy he is. But you know he’d want you go tell him the truth. “I had a hard day today.”
Peter melts, makes a pitying noise that’s so nice your chest hurts. He takes your face in both hands now, and steps closer so his arms are lodged between your chests.
“Aw, baby. Why didn’t you call me, hm? I’d’ve picked you up earlier.”
You try to shake your head again but it’s hard when he’s got his hands all over your face.
“Pete, it’s okay,” you tell him. “It wasn’t anything in particular, really.” You shrug. It’s hard to explain, but you know he’s always patient with you so you don’t try to explain it all now. “I’m just happy I’m here now.”
Peter smiles at that. It’s pretty in its softness. Gentler than the big grins he gives you when you make a joke. Soft as warm butter. “I’m happy you’re here, too. Hey, you can stay that night, if you’d like. Would you like to?”
Just the thought of it makes you want to cry. He’ll probably talk to you later tonight about your day, help you get to the root of the problem and then work through a solution with you. He’s good at that.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” you say, desperately trying not to give in to the growing urge to cry. Only, now you don’t know if it’s because you’re sad or happy. “That’d be nice.”
Peter hums as he drags his thumbs under your eyes, his skin calloused against the soft, velvety, skin there. He studied your face for a moment. Then,
“You want a hug?”
You smile. He knows you too well. “Yeah, please.”
He hugs you so tight it’s almost hard to breathe. Then he lets you share his earbuds and he puts on your favourite song while you stir the soup and he cooks up two grilled cheese in the pan. The earbud wire stretches dangerously and they fall out of your ears every two seconds, but it’s worth it to be next to him.
It’s safe to say your bad day is saved.
-
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iamarealkat · 7 months
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FIRST COURSE - KNIVES
(or at least the ones I recognised from the TV-show so far)
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mads mikkelsen by kenneth willardt for vanity fair italy, 2015 - aka my favorite shoot of his.
i apologize.
1. Spyderco Harpy
• appears in Hannibal season 3 in Italy .ೃ࿐
The Harpy was designed as a knife for seamen, featuring a karambit style blade that magically cuts right through rope, the serration lending a hand to the task.
Additionally, the Harpy boasts a detailed tip, which can chew through a manner of different materials, probably one of the main reasons why Hannibal found it handy for different...matters. To sum it up: This is not one of his kitchen knives, but rather one he used as a pocket knife in all different kind of situations.
Originally the japanese Spyderco Harpy was designed to accommodate the needs of commercial fishermen. The hawksbill blade is modeled after the talon of the Harpy eagle, allowing for a deliberate pulling cut where the object does not slip off the end of the edge. The hollow-ground blade incorporates SpyderEdge serrations and a thick spine for support. The handle is made of stainless steel with a drying vent, perfect for Hannibal and his exquisite taste…and of course correspondingly expensive. A good 200 euros for this fine tool, everybody. But he seems to be rolling in money, so no problem for our favourite cannibal.
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2. Chroma Type 301 style by F. A. Porsche
• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐
To be honest I really fell in love with the Spyderco Harpy and didn’t quite think anything could change that. But. When I tell you the design…omg. The Chroma Type 301 knife series was brought to life by F.A. Porsche (yup, the german car guy) and the chef of the decade, Jörg Wörther (austrian chef).
Japanese knives have achieved global recognition for their quality, as the Japanese hold a long tradition in metallurgy. The Japanese metallurgists have elevated the forging and sharpening of the blade into a form of art for hundreds of years, since the era of the notorious Katana swords. On the other hand, Europeans and Americans also make excellent knives, often characterized by superior ergonomics and design, but rarely distinguished for the hardness and sharpness of their blade.
The type 301 knife series by Chroma bridges the gap between Japanese tradition and the European design, this series standing out for its unique design and practical function. Porsche and Wörther closely worked together in order to develop the final shape of the handle, which is optimized for maximum usability. The result is a precision cutting tool. Each knife is carefully weighted to ensure perfect balance in the hand and in combination with the highly ergonomic handle, it feels like an extension of the user’s hand. The Chroma type 301 knives follow faithfully the Japanese philosophy, which dictates a knife to be lightweight and flexible. They are made of high-quality Japanese 301 steel, a relatively lightweight material which has a 56-58 hardness rating in the Rockwell hardness scale. This renders the type 301 knives harder than most of the non-Japanese knives and among the hardest knives within their price range. The increased hardness allows the knife to maintain its sharpness longer and also to slice better.Even though the Chroma type 301 knives are mass produced, they are carefully razorsharp sharpened by the hand of a master. Quality control is performed on one-to-one basis and not through random sampling. And by the way…did I mention the extraordinary design.
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3. Kai Shun Knives
• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐
Before Shun Cutlery was established in the western market, most people were used to heavy European-style kitchen knives. With Shun’s entry into the marketplace, home cooks and professional chefs alike were introduced to the lightweight precision of fine Japanese cutlery. Thinner blades, sharper edges, and lighter weight gave Shun a high-performance edge that the heavier knives couldn’t match. Each Shun still takes at least 100 handcrafted steps to complete and Shun remains true to its ancient heritage of quality. At the same time, Shun takes advantage of thoroughly modern, premium materials and state-of-the-art technology to provide that traditional quality to millions of professional chefs and avid home cooks throughout the world.
Today, Shun has become one of the most well-known names in kitchen cutlery. It has won awards for innovation and quality. It has been admired and emulated. With new styles, new materials, and an ongoing dedication to the spirit of innovation, Shun will continue to provide Japanese kitchen cutlery of outstanding beauty, impeccable precision, and the very highest performance.
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4. Global Knives
• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐
Global G Series knives are typically put together in what's called a three piece construction. The blade is stamped out of sheets of steel of a proprietary stainless steel alloy, while the two handles are created and welded together separately. The blade and handle are then welded together into one solid piece of stainless steel.
What makes these Global knives a bit unusual is that they start off empty. The blades are welded on without a tang and the handles are actually hollow. Instead, to maintain balance, they are filled with a very precise amount of sand.
Now it's quite unusual and you might just write this off as Japan being Japan and doing things differently because...well, they're Japan, but it seems to work very well for them.
The ability to inject a precise amount of weight (sand, in this case) as needed directly into the knife has led to them getting a reputation or having very precise and excellently balanced knives across their range of products.
That said, ergonomics are always personal.
Global G Series knives tend to feel very lightweight and evenly balanced. Some people tend to prefer a knife that is more weighted to the back for a firmer grip, or to the front for chopping action. This is the classic global knife version, but of course there are various other series one can discover. Unfortunately I am not able to tell the exact version Hannibal uses in the show by just watching...if anyone has an idea let me know!!!
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Adventure: Do no Harm
Gangs of brigands attacking along the trade roads in a series of bloody, near suicidal raids. An increasing spree of violent incidents in town that seem to be spreading like a sickness. Folk in their feverbeds rambling about a war out of time. These seemingly unrelated incidents are the violent signs that have been laid before Prior Rupak, healer and priest of Pelor, who sees them as the prelude to a far greater evil. The good healer cannot treat the victims and investigate the cause of their suffering at the same time, and so seeks allies to help stem the tide of blood before it pours over into the streets.
Hooks:
The party may first encounter Rupak after seeking out his infirmary, usually open to all by grace of the dawnfather’s altruism but recently closed off so that the priest and his acolytes can triage an ever mounting number of injured. Ushered in to receive treatment in payment for their aid, the party is briefed on the strange occurrences in town and sent on their way. Alternatively, should their reputation be great enough, Rupak may send a runner to ask for the party by name.
Merchants are always wary of bandits on the road, but this latest swath of reckless attacks has them especially worried, shilling out good coin for caravan guards that may get the party to tag along. Gossip by the watchfires says that the attacks are originating from a tumbledown old fortress out in the countryside, though why any self-respecting brigand would choose to lair in that haunted place is anyone’s guess.
Untangling the different attacks in town leads the party through a gauntlet of civil strife: lovers’ spats, disagreements in the market, tavernbrawls, all turned bloody and in some cases lethal. Investigating the matter reveals that each perpetrator was at one point a victim, all still bearing a fevered and borderline infected wound (if only a scratch) from a previous altercation
Background: The origin of all this chaos is a dark spirit known as “I Bear Thee Unto Glory”, a demon of war that sustains itself by sowing confusion and suffering during peacetime. Weapons touched by Unto-Glory’s influence grant their bearers the manic strength of dying warriors, even as their minds and the metal they hold begin to corrode. That corrosion is the key, as each cursed weapon leaves behind tiny slivers of demonic rust in their victim, leaving their body and mind to fester with fever and anger until they too lash out, passing the curse to another.
Tracking the infection all the way back we’re left with the brigands, a group of desperate foreign soldiers making an unwitting deal with Unto-Glory which drives them to attack the caravans. These attacks are repulsed, but the guards and drivers who survived with only minor injuries became carriers, getting into town just in time to start a tavernbrawl, lashing out at the townsfolk with their now rusted weapons. If you wanted to sow a few clues into the party’s investigation, mention how the weapons seized by the constables in the different incidents are all varying levels of corroded, or how the tavernkeeper had to replace a whole bevy of cutlery all of a sudden as a good portion of their knives, forks, and even soup ladle were suddenly rusted through. 
All of this comes to a head when the party report back to Rupak only to watch as he’s stabbed near lethally by one of his patients. Strengthened by an unholy fever, the formerly bedridden attacker brandishes a rusty scalpel and rants as Unto-Glory’s presence overwhelms them, speaking of the slaughter that is to come once the good doctor and the heroes too join them in the bloodbath. The violence will spiral out of control until the army is called to do something about it and likewise join the dance. Infection and bedlam will spread across the countryside until war is inevitable, and Unto Glory will ride at the head of it awful and resplendent.
With the realm at risk and their greatest ally now at risk of succumbing to the curse, something must be done. A risky summoning in the hopes of binding the fiend perhaps? Seeking some blessing or answer of the dawnfather? Regardless, the party must act fast... there’s a very good chance that they too have received a rust-cursed wound in their numerous scuffles, and its only a matter of time before they succumb aswell.
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Dishes Vs. Laundry Headcanons (TF141 + Alex)
Based off the theory that every couple has someone who prefers doing laundry while the other prefers dishes. NOT an x reader HC list
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Amazing at fitting all the dishes into the dishwasher.
Soap // Dishes
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Not to mention it takes care of all the work for his dishwasher safe items (95% of his kitchen)
The other 5% (all his cutlery - somehow he ended up with all handwash only) is washed and drying in under 10 minutes.
Side note: he runs out of forks the quickest and can't quite figure out why.
Then it's waiting for the dishwasher to be done, the dishes to be dried and quickly putting them away.
Gets so, so sick of the guys making jokes about his codename in regards to this.
The first time was funny, the 10th time gets you a soaked shirt and Scottish swear words.
Doesn't hate laundry necessarily, but definitely not big on folding his clothes.
He just kind of accepts the fact that they're going to get wrinkles.
Accepts the fact that he'll be ironing his clothes for the rest of his life.
"Can't let those lessons from Ma go to waste"
Has, on more than one occasion, started doing his bedding in the morning and forgot about it until he was ready to sleep for the night.
Something about the meticulous process with sorting, folding, and putting away clothes just clicks with him.
Ghost // Laundry
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Always sorts whites from colours
Has a seperate hamper by the washer for towels
Folds everything (even the underwear) into small little bundles when he packs for a trip or work.
Soap's entire worldview on laundry stresses him out a bit. Adding steps to a chore you already don't like?
Why
WHY
Not a fan of doing dishes. Somehow finds it more repetitive, time-consuming, and soul crushing.
Has thrown out 2 plates in his life because he couldn't be bothered with washing them
Has also genuinely contemplated Soap as a housemate when doing dishes.
"Solving each other's problems"
Has an expansive plastic cutlery collection.
Not even the type you'd buy in a large bulk pack from the store; but like cutlery, you get from takeout.
Argues that it's amazing for on the go lunches (you toss it out) and uses the forks to stir his coffee in the morning.
I would be lying if I told you this man hasn't thought of buying bulk everything to last him a month just so he doesn't have to clean.
Price // Neither, but does them anyway
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Except Ghost pointed out that the bulk underwear would itchy, and Laswell refused to let him use her Costco card for this.
Not that he's messy or gross - no, no.
He is a rather clean guy but absolutely hates the process of getting there. It's mundane. It's exhausting.
Has walked by the washing machine, full of laundry he's waiting to swap over and muttered "fuckin' hell" when he realized it's not done yet.
Glares into the cupboard when he realizes his favorite mug is dirty, promptly glares at the mug for being dirty.
Then internally complains the entire time he's washing the thing. Despite having many other, perfectly suitable mugs in your cupboard. John.
He has the utmost pride in his appearance and is fairly meticulous about the care of his clothes.
Gaz // Laundry
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It helps that his dad was the same way in his youth and taught him all the tricks to keeping things bright, getting stains out, and having the nicest smelling laundry.
Happily gives this advice out to his teammates and friends (no, I'm not doing your laundry for you. Wankers)
While doing dishes is sort of the same concept (different care needs for different things), he finds it too much of a pain when cooking.
As Kyle is the "seven knives" meme.
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Yeah.
It also doesn't help that he always organizes the cupboards and drawers before all the dishes are done
Then, he has to start re-doing everything when he runs out of room for bowls.
Which typically ends up in the surplus of clean dishes stacked neatly on the counters or table.
Not by concious choice
Alex // Says he doesn't mind either, but it's actually neither
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He truly doesn't mind either. he's just too much of a free spirit about it.
I'm talking: "eh, I'm fine to do it on the weekend"
Then, realizes he has one set of clean boxers left on a random Wednesday night.
Or forgets the clean laundry in the washer until it gets a weird smell and needs to be rewashed
Kyle had no other advice other than:
Just don't forget it in there then???
The same goes for the dishes in the dishwasher (minus the weird smell)
80/20 split on dishes, though (clean, sitting in the dishwasher)
80% of the time, he'll grab whatever dishes he needs for meals or cooking from the dishwasher as he goes.
20% of the time, he'll take everything out and put it away.
100% of the time, he promises himself to get the entire process done in one day (then 80% of the time forgets)
Taglist (all content): @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja
Taglist (Alex content): @glitterypirateduck @deadbranch @gcing-back-to-505
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whumpzone · 2 years
Text
Linden & Colton - 28
(masterlist)
CW: pet whump, dissociation, panic attacks, talk of noncon and sexual abuse
-
Linden made sure the newspaper was between him and Col, dividing the two and their respective bowls of cereal. There were days where Linden felt he couldn’t be bothered with breakfast, but Col deserved three meals a day, so he made sure to set a precedent.
I suppose I deserve three meals a day too, he thought with a trace of humour.
The newspaper was a small but important barrier, along with the cereal box, and a pine-scented candle. It was never lit- Linden didn’t want Col to know where the matches were kept- but its pleasant aroma was still there. Linden was sure the barriers were mostly of psychological comfort, but he had noticed the way Col relaxed with them. It didn’t look quite as easy to reach out and grab. Given his wrist scars, Linden imagined that Col had spent a lot of his time strung up, open and completely defenceless. Every layer of clothing, every object, even the table itself, it all kept him away and separate. Like he was his own person, his own body. He'd been planted in his own patch of earth, and he could grow in any direction he wanted.
Vik would call it all overthinking, but it came to Linden so naturally these days.
This morning, Col was trying out his new cutlery. Linden had gone online and found a set of accessible forks, knives, teaspoons and tablespoons, all built with incredibly thick tactile handles.  Linden had chosen the green set. He had weighed up asking Col to choose, but he thought it would be better to keep them as a nice surprise.
Breakfast was also a good time to see if it was going to be a talkative day or not. “See how you get on with your new spoon, Col,” Linden encouraged, picking up his own as he spoke.
Col did one of his almost-smiles, where although his lips didn’t quite turn up enough, the heaviness on his face lifted.
“Thank you again, Sir, really…”
“Aw, well, you’re welcome,” Linden returned Col’s smile tenfold.
Col picked the spoon up and his eyes widened. “It’s so much easier, Sir.”
“Yeah?”
Col scooped up some cereal with ease and marvelled at it.
“Yeah. Thank you,” he said, meeting Linden’s eye. “Please may I keep using it?”
“Yes, yes of course, they’re for you from now on. I have big and little spoons, knives, and forks.”
Col’s eyes widened even more. “Wow, I… how can I earn all this, Sir?”
“You don’t have to. These are just to make your life easier.”
“But I haven’t done anything to… is there something you want me to do that involves these?”
“No, Col, honestly,” Linden said, still smiling, trying to keep it light as always, “They’re just for the simple but important task of eating your food. Your hands are always improving, but these will help while they’re still fragile.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Col said, almost tripping over his words to get his point across. Linden just waved at his breakfast with a limp-wristed hand.
“You’re welcome, sweet, now you can enjoy your cereal. I’m gonna do the same.”
. . .
After breakfast, after Col had prostrated himself in thanks for the new cutlery, which Linden had handled with barely any trace of awkwardness, the two moved to the living room. It seemed like it was going to be a talkative day, and Linden wanted to keep the momentum going. It was raining- the kind of harmless rain that nevertheless drove people inside. The kind that came from all directions like a mist and soaked you to the bone.
Linden was crocheting a new cardigan, and Col’s job was to hold the ball of wool and unroll it in even increments, making sure Linden never went without. It was the perfect light test of dexterity, with something soft and harmless. The only vaguely weapon-like thing involved was the crocheting hook, which was far too busy looping and stitching and working away.
“How would you feel about another walk, soonish?”
Linden waited for Col’s response before he clarified what soonish meant. It could mean today, if Col seemed willing, or it could mean in the next week, or month.
“Um,” Col started hesitantly, staring at the floor, “Would you please keep me on- on a short leash? If it isn’t too much trouble, Sir?”
“Would that make you feel safer?” Linden asked, and when Col nodded, he said, “Can I ask why?”
Linden knew this was something that would need to be worked around, not avoided, but it could be like the cutlery. If Linden could find the right tools to make it easier, then Col would be able to finally get some regular exercise.
“It’s st-stupid, Sir, I’m sorry for saying anything.”
“It’s not stupid. I want- it’s important for you to feel safe when we next go outside. I promise I wouldn’t ever use it against you.”
This seemed to get through to Col, a little bit. He gently squeezed the ball of wool as he found the words.
“I’m worried about seeing… seeing some people.”
Linden stayed quiet.
“Not my old Master, he’s- he’s dead, Sir.”
“Okay,” Linden murmured. He knew that already, from when Vik had told him, but it was good to finally hear it from Col. He was more than a little curious about the specifics of that, but it could wait.
“My old Master had all his friends ‘round, sometimes,” he started.
What followed was a very long pause. Col was still looking at the floor, but his eyes started to take on the unfocused, hazy appearance they had a handful of times before. Linden knew his consciousness was stepping away from the here and now, drifting like seaweed, hopeless against the syrupy pull of the ocean. He was being taken back and it was tumbling him like a breaking wave, crushing him against all the days and times and moments. Linden was watching him drown.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, and, mercifully, Col took a breath.
“He had his friends ‘round and they all- they all- they all fucked me.”
“Jesus. Oh, god, Col. Oh my god.”
Col wasn’t kneeling: his legs were tucked up against his chest, and his arms were folded over them like a hug. Linden quietly lowered himself onto the floor and mirrored him. When Linden next took a breath, it was shaky with horror.
“You know I would never do that to you? Ever.”
“Yes, Sir,” Col mumbled out, because he had to. Linden could tell he didn’t believe him.
“No, I mean it.” Col immediately looked up, a half-second away from begging that he wasn’t defying him, but Linden pressed on before he could. “I would never do that. I can’t. I don’t have an interest in sex. And while I would never do it regardless… what’s most important is that it can never happen.”
“You don’t have an interest, Sir? You don’t like it?”
“Exactly. I should have made this clear much sooner.”
Col lowered his head to brush the top of his knees, hiding his expression. “My old Master didn’t get involved when his friends came.”
It showed an incredible amount of trust that Col could say that- because what he wanted to say was are you going to do that? Could that be your work-around? Am I still in danger?
Linden remembered when Col had tried to offer him a sexual favour, back when he’d just arrived. Linden had been disgusted to find out that that had been part of the tapestry of abuse Col had endured, but he now realised quite how prolific it had been. It had been so much worse than he’d realised.
“That is fucking evil. Evil. Seeing that done to you would make me sick, Col. How can I explain… seeing something like that happen can damage a person. Even seeing it, yeah, Col? It isn’t normal. Not even close to normal.”
“So it… it wouldn’t please you, Sir?”
“Col, you poor thing. It would do the opposite. I don’t have an interest in sex, and that’s quite a neutral feeling. But seeing you get gangraped? I need you to understand that I would physically be sick. Normal human beings do not do things like that.”
“They don’t? Most people, th-they, it’s not f-fun for them?”
“Exactly. It’s not fun for Vik either.”
“Are- Are you sure? I’m sorry, I mean, I do believe you Sir, I just…”
“No, it’s okay. I promise. It’s okay to be unsure. You spent so long not receiving any kindness at all. Your old owner was a very wicked man.”
Col slid his arms from his legs, folding them against his chest, pressing his hands to his beating heart. His breathing was starting to speed up.
“Sir, that word you used…”
“Which one?”
“Raped. Is that… is that what happened to me?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Col.”
“But I was always just- it was always after I’d been really bad. It was just another lesson, that’s what I was told.”
“That doesn’t change it. That was wrong. I don’t care what you’d done. You never deserved that.”
“But I- but I- but, oh, oh god, oh god-“
Col’s breaths were now short and staccato gasps, barely able to get his words out around them. He pressed his hands into his face.
“No, no, it was just a lesson, just, just, a-a-and I always tried so hard,” he moaned as he began to sob. His chest heaved thunderously around his failing lungs, unable to keep up against the force of the panic attack.
Linden’s mind went white as Col wailed. Should he hold him? Leave? Speak to him?
Slowly, he reached out a hand, letting it rest on Col’s shoulder. Col wrenched a scarred, crooked hand away from his face and grabbed onto Linden’s wrist.  
“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. “And I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me, please,” Col wept. His crying was open-mouthed and wretched; Linden had never heard something so grief-stricken before. Col’s entire body was shaking from the force of it. It was a terrible sight, seeing him in so much agony.
Linden moved a little closer, gently rocking them both back and forth. Col turned his face down, pressing it against his shoulder, where Linden’s fingers made divots in his cheek. Linden could feel Col’s tears soaking into his skin.
“I’m right here,” he said, trying to breathe slowly and deliberately, but not expecting Col to copy him. Not expecting a single thing from the breathless young man curled up and crying against him, whose pain Linden couldn’t ever understand.
No wonder Col had been so terrified last time they stepped outside. He was living in fear of running into his rapists. Plural. Linden felt sick.
It wasn’t something he could produce a simple fix to, either. But Linden would do what he could. Ideas were already whirring through his mind.
Col sobbed until there were two rashes streaming down from each eye. Until his nose and cheeks and scleras were red. He eventually allowed Linden to support his arms and coax him onto the sofa- the first time he had ever let himself onto the furniture- where he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Linden covered him with a blanket and kept his promise not to leave him.  
-
taglist part 1:
@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914
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mercless · 10 days
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Modern au misc. headcanons
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Talon is not their legal name, although it is what they will always introduce themselves as, and has everyone they can call them so. Their legal name is only known by the rest of the Du Couteau family and anyone who has read their legal documents, which are harder to come by than one may first think.
The only licence Talon has is for driving mopeds, though they know 'how' to drive a car too.
Talon strived in many gymnastic disciplines, but took the most time training in floor exercise, horizontal bars and trampolining. Rock climbing has always interested Talon, but their dedication is to the sports that Marcus helped coach them on.
Occasionally, Soreana will 'call them over' (have personal security 'escort' them to transport and visit her) for favours; public sightings or attending parties to keep up the illusion of normalcy, promising financial compensation enough to be comfortable for a few months.
In their free time, Talon frequents gyms to keep their training up, but hasn't signed up for participating at any gymnasiums per Marcus' words. They also partake in freerunning and parkour around the city they live in, anonymously uploading montage footage online of their escapades of trespassing and getting away from security.
Their work at the pizza chain is usually just delivering pizza, but when the chain's shop is short on staff, they will be forced to also make the pizzas, take orders, clean, and even wear the chain's mascot costume for promotion (along with holding a matching sign to spin.)
Talon lives in a studio apartment with barely the minimum requirement of furniture and other belongings. One set of cutlery, a single chair for their television and desk. A newly acquired, cheap bedframe. And then an extensive collection of well cared for knives of different varieties.
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