#you hold a sheet of paper like a relic

[ainosgarden]

were you his boy? were you his number one boy?

[reverieblondie]

Clumsy Kitty: Part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Blackcat Fem!!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, oral (fem receiving), Teasing, Spanking, Inquiries, slight angst? Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Miguel dosen't communicate well and neither do you.

Summary: After your night with a specific grumpy spider you test the limits to your new found...relationship?

A/N: So I rewrote this a lot because this originally wasn't supposed to have a part two but here we are! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Word Count: 6,157 (I wish I knew how to write smaller fics!)

Eyes still shut you are leaning on the warmest thing you have ever felt. It's so silky soft you can’t help but nuzzle your face deeper. The smooth breathing and the sound of a steady heartbeat lolls you further into a relaxed state. 

Very gently you feel the solid warm mass being replaced with a cool pillowly feeling, you feel yourself pout from the loss of warmth but you're too exhausted, your body feeling too drained to even muster a protest. The warmth is back for a single moment, it softly brushes from over your swollen lips to your cheek. The soft touch makes you drift further into the sweet darkness of rest. 

Almost as quick as it was to slip into your slumber you are rushing to awaken from it. Opening your eyes abruptly you are met with the sight of your room, lying in your sheets, wrapped in your comforter smelling like the detergent you used to clean all your clothes. Blinking for a couple of minutes your brain goes over everything that happened last night. 

Going to lean up your now awake body feeling painfully sore, Plopping back down you feel the soreness everywhere your arms, your legs, your throat, your aching sex. Spider-Man or scratch that Miguel did a number on you. Though you would do it again, you plan to do it again. 

Stretching your arms you hear your bones pop and the soreness stretch through your shoulders, where's the damn Tylenol? Getting up, the rest of your body aching from standing awake you finally look over to your nightstand where a note catches your eye. A paper folded to stand says ‘Take me’ and there's an arrow pointing down to a pill. Ah, plan B smart. 

Grabbing the pill and the card you walk to your restroom, examining the card you assume to be from Miguel you take in how nice his handwriting is, and turning the card over you see another message for you, ‘stay out of trouble’. A small chuckle leaves your lips and you stand in your small bathroom. 

“Stay out of trouble huh?” you say with a smirk, looking back to the pill you laugh slightly again before unceremoniously dropping the pill in the toilet and flushing it down. 

Probably should tell Spidy you're on the pill, no plan B needed, and also there is no way in hell you're going to be staying out of trouble now, not when you've got so deliciously rewarded for your little escapades. Now the trick will be how to see him again…you know now where his little clubhouse’s location and you could always do your tried and true getting into trouble, though what if you should try to see him out of the suit, like just regular people…would that even work? Could you even find him? 

Losing yourself in thought you run through the possibilities, though one thing rings in your mind, does he want to see you again? Whelp, that's just something you will have to figure out. 

Taking a deep breath you look at your reflection in the mirror, time to get ready for another mundane day. Though your day was sure to be as mundane as any other, the excitement of what the night could hold has you looking forward to your day. 

Now, you might be crazy or just too dickmotized but going into the same museum that you had first met Spider-man seemed like an almost romantic way to meet him again. Poetic really. Walking through the museum you walked around looking for something good to snatch up. Your eyes fall on some relic-looking thing in a glass box with lots of lasers to set off, perfect!

Public eye hot your tail, and you're running from them hoping from building to building then finally slipping to the underground, a place they are sure to lose you in. It worked but you're a bit disappointed, Miguel failed to appear. Now stuck with some relic you don’t even want you to start to make your trek back to your apartment.

Swinging from building to building, you stop to rest in a dark alley, you need to work out more if you're going to keep this up. Taking your breather you fail to hear the person sneaking up behind you.

Suddenly a large hand is placed over your mouth while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Being pressed against the solid body of your capture you only panicked for a moment before feeling that familiar warmth. Turning your head you see that it’s the masked vigilante himself pressing you close. Dragging you further into the ally, and you let him lead the way. Finally being secluded enough to his liking he releases you. While he releases you he grabs the relic from your hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?” Miguel places the relic to the side before he crosses his arms, you know under that mask he's giving you that furrowed brow look of disappointment. 

“Oh well you know old habits die hard,” You say slowly getting closer to him. You reach your hand out to touch his chest but he quickly grabs your wrist before you can touch him. Looking at him you're a bit confused but filled with anticipation. 

Pulling you closer he causes you to crash into him holding you tightly, more bruises for your already sore body. You can't help but feel that familiar excitement from the last time you two were this close.   

“Kitty, I told you to keep out of trouble, if you keep up this bad behavior I will be forced to do something about it…” 

Oh, this is perfect, he is definitely into your bad girl behavior, “Well then do something abou-” Before you can even finish your sentence, you are turned around and quickly pinned to the nearest wall. 

“You're in trouble now gata, now count…”  

“Count-” Right as you're saying the word back to him you feel a hard slap across your ass. Mouth hanging open in surprise you don’t even know what to do. The rush of excitement makes your lower stomach tighten as you feel that familiar tingling. Hands grip hard to the wall and you brace yourself.  

“Count…” his gruff voice demands in your ear. 

“One” turning your face still against the wall you see that he’s still in that damned mask. The eyes narrow at you then another spank strikes you making a quick moan escape you. Your body shakes in excitement, “Two”

Miguel's large hand can be felt running up your body from your hip to your breast massaging gently. It's a completely different feeling from the sharp slap following the gesture. “Th-three” you stutter out, the spanking is degrading enough but forcing you to count, it was making your slick pool in your panties.  

A fourth slap and you're starting to feel the stinging pain welling up on your cheek. After mewing out “four” you feel him rub his large hand on the plush flesh of your bottom. The sweet gesture has you arching yourself towards him feeling his length straining in his suit.

 As you're grinding your ass against him, he moves his hand away, reeling back. Knowing what’s going to follow you shying away from the incoming spank before he’s even done it. 

Soft lips are then pressed to your neck and his hand moves from your breast to grip your chin. Feeling his desperate open mouth kisses burning against your neck, your eyes rolling as he approaches the shell of your ear, nipping slightly. 

“Don’t shy from it now bad girl, take your punishment…” nodding your head slightly you still yourself as best you can, clenching your thighs and shutting your eyes tightly, bracing for the delicious sting. 

The fifth spank comes down, but it’s gentle still felt but not as hard as the other four. The warmth of his body moves away from you and you can’t help how you almost whine missing his warmth so close to you. -you’ve got it bad…

Turning around still pressed against the wall you see his mask is off and he's smirking at you, clearly proud of himself. And he should be, your body is heated, face flushed, and panties are ruined. If the goal was to turn you on and take you in the alley it was working and you were willing. 

Though, to your disappointment, he grabs the relic you stole instead of ravishing you further. 

“Was that supposed to teach me a lesson? I think you could have done more than that” you tease trying to get a reaction.

“What do you even need this for?” Miguel tosses the relic in the air and catches it casually. 

“To lure you out spidy” Danm, getting good at this confident banter. 

Miguel shoots you a look that you easily read as he silently says ‘really’, you can’t help but laugh, “You're the one who keeps rewarding my bad behavior” This gets a soft chuckle from him. -Hell yeah! Fall for my charm spidy.

Miguel's mask goes back over his face and before he goes to swing off into the night Miguel tosses the stolen relic back to you, “Make sure you be a good kitty and take that back.” 

Going to grab the relic, you're trying your best to catch the priceless artifact. However, you have never been good at catching. 

The relic fumbles in your hands before it crashes onto the ground breaking into pieces.  The impact makes your hands fly to cover your mouth to hold in your yelp, this is not good… Slowly you lift your eyes to Miguel as he stares down at the ruined artifact before he slowly rises to view your shocked face. 

“Really…” his voice says dryly

“I wasn’t expecting you to throw it!” 

Breaking a priceless artifact and then haphazardly gluing it back together before returning it to the museum was not one of your prouder moments. Can’t say it didn’t fit in with the bad girl persona, even without trying you were slipping into your naughty girl ego. Though Miguel didn’t exactly seem happy about a priceless relic being destroyed. -whoops

You would just have to make it up to him. Did it involve you breaking into somewhere and stealing? Yes, but you made sure to steer clear of anything too irreplaceable so you opted for Alchemax, a place that every time you sunk it Miguel was a forsure arrival. 

It was the chase that had your mouth watering, barely slipping through Spider-Man’s fingers as you ran away with whatever bullshit seemed important. Honestly it didn’t matter, he was chasing you with that taunting tone of come back and you were swinging and climbing barely out of reach. Miguel could have caught you easily, he was stronger and way more agile in the air than you, but something told you he was enjoying chasing his prey as you led him closer and closer to your apartment.  

Spider-man catches the bad blackcat to face justice, and if the place he so happens to catch you in was your apartment then so be it. Sure the neighbors would be confused about who this so-called Miguel is as they file a noise complaint about you. But he had to be rough with you slamming into you over and over as you begged for forgiveness and promised to be a good girl. How else would he teach such a bad girl a lesson? 

Too lost in the thrill of the chase and the fantasy of the night in store for you; you don’t notice that your grappling claw is releasing at a delay. So, once you jump off the side of the building and shoot for the next, it jams. 

Panicking, you're trying to release it but it's not reacting and now you're falling. The ground is fast approaching as the neon lights of the city blur in your vision. You're quickly trying to find something to grab or something to land on. This is something you have never thought would happen and now it’s happening, you should have planned better. Trying not to panic you can’t help how you slip a cry of Miguel's name, slipping his identity is a major no no but you don’t know how else to convey you are in trouble. 

Though your outing of his name isn’t even registering to him right now, he just sees you falling to the ground; panic consuming him. In an instant, he's jumping down, crawling, falling, then grabbing you in a bone-breaking embrace. The force of him hitting you in such a desperate attempt has you both crashing into the nearest building's window. Breaking and entering unintentionally. 

A throbbing pain can be felt on your head and talons can be felt piercing through your suit and skin, holding you so tightly in his burning warmth. The blazing warmth of the tight embrace almost has you not registering how the blood weeps from your wounds. Breathing in a stutter from the adrenaline and from how he is almost crushing you, it only tightens further until you can relinquish one steady breath that eases him. Pulling away from him you can only imagine what's behind his mask in this moment, anger, happiness, relief, fear? 

Suddenly a sharp pain makes your brows furrow and your hand shoots towards the pain, placing your hand to your side you feel it then looking down you see it. A shard of glass embedded into your side blood coating the transparent intrusion. Not used to such injuries you scream then almost faint but Miguel is swift to catch you in his arms. An injury like this is nothing to him you assume from his apparent calm demeanor. 

“Really I will be fine” You sat on the couch as you heard Miguel shuffling around your bathroom muttering to himself. With his mask off, you see that it is not a calm or even a pitting demeanor; he’s irritated and it seems to be pointed at you. 

Coming back into view you see he has managed to scrunch up some supplies to help take care of you. Laying all the supplies on the table he doesn't meet your eyes. Feeling guilty about the whole situation your eyes fall to the floor, this was not what you had in mind for the evening. 

Fingers caress your chin making you look and meet his eyes, those eyes…absolutely hypnotic…you can’t help how you slowly lean in wanting to kiss him. But he moves his head back slightly avoiding your advance, looking down at your side still impaled with the glass and his face twists into further irritation. 

“This might hurt,” he says dryly.

“What?” swiftly Miguel pulls the glass from your side, honestly not all as deep and bad as you had originally thought, But the sudden yanking out of you is painful. 

“Son of a bitch!” you yipe at the sting. The stinging pain was quickly dissipating as Miguel worked tentatively to patch up the wound. Honestly, him playing doctor with you was making your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

Wanting to flirt and tease him you decide against it as you look down at his face. Seeing him with a serious face was nothing new for you but in this moment there was an air about him that was making you walk on eggshells. Miguel had hardly said anything to you this whole time, he was just speaking under his breath or just giving sharp commands.   

“Okay strip, I need to patch the rest” Miguel demands as he stands away from you. 

Gently you run your hand along your side where he had bandaged you up. Looking up at your hero, he’s refusing to meet your gaze as he is prepping alcohol on a cotton pad and setting up more bandages for you.

Standing carefully you start to disarm your gadgets and slip off your suit letting it pool onto the ground beneath you. Having to strip down in front of him has your face blooming in a deep blush. Yes, the man has seen you naked, hell he’s been inside you but the situation still makes your stomach flutter. 

Once stripped to your underwear Miguel gently turns you around to observe the inquiries to your back. Softly his hand traces where his talons had punctured and scratched your skin. The dried blood trails down your back and he is extra gentle as he cleans you up with a rag. Applying the alcohol to the wounds makes you tense releasing a hiss, the sting disinfects and cleans the marks. Tension in the air is thick as he gently begins to patch your wounds with bandages, you hear him faintly whisper an apology as his large hands work on you. Unsure if he meant for you to hear the apology you just hum softly. 

Once you're finally patched up he moves away from you and starts packing away the supplies. Softly you thank him and he only hums in response still avoiding meeting your eyes. Awkwardness makes you fidget and you excuse yourself to your room to put on something. Miguel is always quiet and sure he is not the most commutative but he’s acting strange, even if he was mad at you from past experiences with him you know he wouldn’t shy away from telling you that he was mad at you, so what's his deal?

Quickly you slip your shirt and shorts on returning to the living room. Sat on the couch you see Miguel looking down at your suit and gadgets neatly folded and placed on the coffee table. Seeing him still in your apartment has you surprised, with the way he has been quiet you were sure he was angry with you and would have slipped out but he’s still here…Maybe he wants to stay and look after you for the night! That would be a welcomed surprise!  

 “Can I get you some coffee?”  you ask eagerly while rushing towards the kitchen, but as you are rushing to make coffee you stub your toe on the couch leg as you are passing it; letting out a sharp cry as you hold your foot. How did this hurt more than the glass? 

“You can’t even walk in your apartment without hurting yourself.” Miguel laments, shaking his head as he walks past you making his way to the kitchen. 

Shortly after Miguel is placing a hot coffee in front of you as you sit on the couch favoring your foot; he even places down sugar and creamer on the table. Looking up at him you see him drinking his coffee, steaming hot and black you assume based on his personality. 

“Than-”

“I’m taking the suit and the stuff with me…” he interrupts sharply 

“What? Why?” you ask confused.

“Are you serious? You almost died today! Look at you!” Miguel's eyes are piercing you as his body tenses further. 

Deep down you know that Miguel was right, your inquiries could have been a lot worse if he wasn’t there, you understand that, but taking your suit to prevent you from being Blackcat was overreaching. 

“Look what happened was scary but I am okay and I’m going to make sure to fix it where it doesn't happen again.” Reaching your hand out you step closer to him, but he backs away from you. 

“So am I,” Miguel says dryly, staring daggers into you, unwavering in his decision. 

Opening your mouth to further protest you are cut off by Miguel's watch beeping and his holo agent appearing. “Miguel, we have a situation that needs back up” 

Miguel's eyes stay on you roaming over your figure watching the bruises slowly blooming on your skin and the patches he so tentatively wrapped you in. 

“Tell them I’m on the way…” 

“Right away~”

Miguel swiftly grabs your suit and gadgets from the coffee table heading towards your window to make his exit. 

“Miguel, wait! You can’t leave now! This isn’t over!”

“That's where you're wrong…it is over…”

Stopping dead in your tracks you feel a sharp sting in your chest from his sharp words. Does he mean the conversation or does he mean…

“Wait!”

Halfway out of the window he turns to look at you cutting you off again, “Just finish your coffee and for once listen to me.”

The pain and confusion must be evident on your face because, for a split second, you see his face go from irritated to concerned before his watch goes off again, making him break his stare and slip out your window into the restless night. Taking your alter ego with him leaving your head whirling. 

Who does he think he is? Taking your stuff and leaving! Taking away the one thing that was keeping your life entertaining! If he thinks he can just take your stuff without consequence he has another thing coming! Plus what did he mean by over? Does he mean your crimes or did he mean…you two?

It had been two days and you had healed up and couldn't take it anymore. Sneaking into his HQ you were ready to enact petty revenge. It was a lot easier to break in this time, maybe it was the fact that you had done it before or the fact that you were driven by your anger but you were a cat on a mission! 

Miguel taking the things that you worked painstakingly hard to create was driving you mad, little did that grump know you made an extra set of grappling claws for emergencies like this. Though you didn't have another suit you had to just settle on an all-black ensemble, not as super thief looking but the hoodie was comfortable.   

Starting off sneaking in, were you quickly seen by multiple spider-people? Employees? Whatever, they didn't seem to care about you being in there very much, a few even waved at you saying “Miguel's cats here” or some cat-related pun. You weren't listening, just focused on getting to his office. 

Finally making it to the dark office you can’t help how your chest aches from being in the place that took your criminal x superhero relationship up a notch. Up to a level that you were not exactly sure what it was or how to define it. Complicated? Enemies with benefits? though now that the two of you were upset with each other you were even more confused. 

How do you even talk to him about this? Do you talk to him about this? Shit, are you here making an idiot of yourself? Just had to like the hero ....you're not good at this bad girl game…

Rummaging around his office you do not care if you're making a ruckus or even a mess. You wanted Miguel to show his stupidly handsome face, and give him a nice verbal thrashing of all the things you thought to say after he left.

There was a part of you that wished this would end up like the last time you were here, ending with you wrapped in his arms…growing closer…this alter ego is how you got to see him after all, it's not like you have ever met as civilians, hell, you didn't even know how you two would find each other…you didn’t even know his last name. 

Stopping with a sigh you start to think of the word “over”. Was that his way of ending things, this, whatever it was with you…the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Now here you are so desperate for his attention, to keep it going after he told you to stop…there is no way this ends well right? 

“He’s not here” A voice suddenly startles you. Looking around you try and pinpoint where it’s coming from then you look up. Walking casually on the ceiling you see a lanky-looking man in an odd-looking spider suit with a pink robe, he smiles at you before he drops down in front of you. 

“Where is he then?”

“He's been out on a mission, I think he’s coming back soon though. Do you want to wait for him? Or I can call-”

“Don’t!” you say quickly cutting him off, he gives you a quizzical look. 

“We aren't exactly on friendly terms right now” 

“Then…Uh whatcha doing here, stray?” 

“Stray?” you quickly shake off the comment “There was a slight accident, and he got all grumpy spider and took my suit and gadgets, so I am just getting revenge. Don’t try to stop me.” the man seems to only laugh at your comments so you look around for something to take till something catches your eye “How about that white and red suit? Seems important…” 

“Yeah, I would advise against that. I think taking things is only going to escalate things.” 

Huffing you lean against a nearby desk crossing your arms. “Then what should I do?” 

The man laughs before he speaks, “Cat, you're asking for advice about a very complicated guy…”  

Sighing you feel a mixture of emotions swell through you, the man leans against the desk next to you, “Have you tried talking to him?” 

“This isn’t exactly a very communicative relationship, I don’t even know if he even likes me or if I am just entertaining him…” 

“Oh, he likes you,” you can’t help at how you light up at that comment looking at him with pleading eyes, wanting to hear more. 

“He has been in such a better mood with you around, and get this, he doesn't even mind the cat jokes. Plus..” He leans closer to whisper in your ear “I’ve seen him looking at pictures of you” 

“Really,” You try to hide your enthusiasm but it seeps through making the man laugh and nod yes. 

“If you ask me he seems to like you” 

“He said this was done, and the bastard didn’t even bother to elaborate on what he meant!” 

“So why don’t you ask him? The first time you confronted him worked out for you, why not do it again?” 

“Yeah but…that was confronting Spider-Man, not Miguel whatever his name…”

The man thinks for a moment then a smirk stretches over his lips before he snaps his fingers “I have an idea!”  

Either this Peters guy’s plan was completely brilliant or completely idiotic. Here you are, broken into Miguel's apartment in Babylon Tower. Waiting for him to come home to talk to him. Talking to him in his office you thought would have been better but Peter was instant that you come here. Something about forcing Miguel out of his Spider-Man ego and the shocked look on his face. 

Sitting in his apartment was pretty surreal. You two have only met in costume, and now here you are unmasked and waiting for him. This felt like something people in relationships would do, not whatever you two are. 

As you sit waiting in anticipation the moment finally arrives. You hear Miguel's front door opening with his holo agent greeting him and informing him that he has a visitor in the living room. Miguel rightfully looking confused approaches the room quickly, stopping in his tracks when his crimson gaze falls on you. 

Watching his face contort from confusion to irritation back to confusion he finally starts to ask a question but you are the one to cut him off this time.

“I need to talk to you and…this is what your friend Peter suggested.”

Miguel rolls his eyes “Of course he did…” 

Placing his eyes back on you he approaches. Coming closer, you're able to see him in his normal attire out of the iconic Super-suit, oddly he’s still as intimidating. Muscles still bulging with every movement. The shirt he was wearing was basically crying against his wide chest, One sharp movement and you're sure it would rip into a bunch of tiny pieces. 

“I’m guessing you're not here to talk about getting your stuff back considering you broke in here without issue” -Okay not seeming mad this is a good start. 

“Actually I do want those back but that’s a later conversation. I’m here now to talk to you about…us?” you can’t help but cringe at your own words sounding so pathetic. 

Miguel on the other hand seems unfazed, “what about us?”

“Are…Is this thing over? Or was this not ever even a thing? I mean you're a hero and I'm just a thief and not even a few good one either…” As you're rambling on you fail to notice Miguel inching closer keeping his cold gaze fixed on you. 

Once you finally look up Miguel has moved so close to you that he is practically pinning himself against you. All your words begin to die off as he lifts his hand to cup your cheek gently stroking your soft skin. It's almost like he’s petting you to soothe you. 

“Cat…”

“Spidy…”

Leaning down his warm breath fans across your face, those blazing eyes burning into yours. 

“I couldn’t be done with you even if I tried”

“Mig-” 

True to himself he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is different from your first kiss, it’s gentler. Holding onto you as if you were made of glass, Kissing you as if you are precious to him. And you are…

Beginning to move his lips against yours he opens your mouth effortlessly, then capturing your bottom lip between his teeth he pulls back and lets go making your lip pop back and swell instantly from the teasing bite. 

The sensation makes you moan pressing yourself flush to his body, that warmth of his is still intoxicating to you. Moving your head to expose your neck he kisses your sensitive skin with hot open mouth kisses that lick and bite at you. Shuddering at each kiss you feel yourself getting slick between your thighs. 

“Your Mine” His rough voice purs before he's lifting you effortlessly causing you to curl your legs around his narrow hips. Miguel bounces you up and down a few times just because he can. The Motion has your cunt rubbing against his strained cock tenting his pants. 

Miguel carries you to his bedroom commanding Layla to dim the lights. Pressing kisses desperately against each other you finally make it to the bedroom. Crashing into the mattress doesn't stop the pursuit of each other's lips. Getting drunk on one another's taste you're making quick work to get each other naked as quickly as possible pulling and tearing at the clothing. Mouth-watering as you finally pull away to admire Miguel's body shows his sculpted physique and perfect skin, you can’t help that you start licking up and down his chest making him shamelessly whimper. 

Once he can’t take anymore he's tasting your skin but kissing from your neck, licking at your collarbone, then finally finding his place at your breast. Miguel is quick to latch his mouth onto your nipple, licking and biting causing you to moan out as he continues to suck, moving from one to the other and trailing his saliva all over you, practically marking you. His other hand fumbles with the button and zipper of your pants as he snakes his fingers underneath the hem to strip them off you. 

Releasing from your swollen bud he is pulling your pants off completely. Looking down at you he spreads your legs apart to watch that glistening stain on your panties. Without reservation, he's leaning down lapping at your clothed cunt eating you through the thin fabric. Feeling him sucking and rubbing his hot tongue against your bundle of nerves has your toes curling and throwing your head back. Practically begging at this point you're pushing your sex against his face selfishly wanting to chase your high. 

Popping out his talons he quickly disregarded your panties, throwing the remains to the floor. Lifting his eyes to meet yours he sees your desperate eyes lidded and mouth pouting for him to taste you fully, his lips curl into a grin. 

“Such a needy girl.”

Whimpering at his taunts you spread your legs wider for him then take your hand to slide across your folds to spread yourself for him. 

“My girl is begging like a damn slut…You want me to take care of you, baby?” 

Nodding quickly he's quick to take care of you. Leaning down he flicks his tongue on your clit making you lift your hips off the bed. Keeping his tongue working on your clit he probes his finger into you, starting with his index finger and then moving in his middle both plunging knuckles deep, curling against your gummy walls. The closer you are to your orgasm the more you tangle your hands into his thick hair, Pulling him into you more. He was right, you are needy. 

Feeling that familiar quivering of your cunt and the shakes from your body he’s licking faster, getting that white-hot pleasure rushing through you as you cream on his fingers. You swear you hear him chuckle before he pulls out his digits to lick up your essence. 

Once he's done he's moving away from your weeping slit, already aching for more. Discarding his pants quickly he’s already crawling back on to you. The tip of his cock bobs up and down nudging along your cunt. Leaning down he kisses you desperately making you taste yourself on his tongue. Pulling away he pumps himself as he lines up to your entrance.

“Your mine…all mine…” 

All you can do is nod and hum as if you're too drunk in anticipation to give out actual answers. Sliding in you gasp at the overwhelming stretch. Your cunt is so desperate to be filled you could feel yourself practically sucking him in and the feeling is not lost on him. 

“Damn…if you keep sucking me in like that, I’m not going to be able to resist filling you up,”

Mumbling out a string of yes’s you curl your legs around him as he draws his hips back to where only the tip was in. Leaning down he nudges his nose against yours probing you for a kiss, arching forward to slide your lips hungrily against his. 

Thrusting upwards he hits that sweet spot deep inside you causing you to break the kiss with a moan. 

“That's my girl” Pulling out and rolling into you deeper he keeps praising you “My good, good, girl,” with each word he thrusts into you deeply making you shake and cry. 

“So, tight..and mine…” his words slur together dripping with lust as he continues to fuck himself deeply into you. Both of you are approaching your highs feeling his cock throb in you as he continues to moan a symphony of ‘mine’ as he ruts into you. 

As you begin to feel yourself clamp around his thick cock you hear him softly say your name making you clamp down harder humming to him. 

“Say your mine,” His thrust began to speed up. 

“I’m yours, always,” with that he rolls into you deeper making you squirt on his cock, making a creamy mess all over him. 

Groaning and grinding against you, his orgasm finally washes over him. Miguel cummed in you, it was deep and hot like the first time setting your insides ablaze. Unhooking yourself from him you're surprised to feel him lean further into you, keeping himself in you. 

In this position, you could feel his racing heartbeat. 

“Say I’m yours…I…I need to hear you say it” looking up at you with his intense eyes and flushed face. The sudden vulnerability makes your heart skip. He made it clear that you were his but he wanted you to want him as much, and you did. 

Cupping his cheek he leans into the soft touch, “Your mine Miguel…”

“You know, this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being Blackcat,” you say resting your head on his warm chest. Miguel just chuckles slightly as he lazily traces your side, carving your figure into memory. 

“Yeah, I figured you still wouldn’t listen, But maybe you can be helpful to me instead.” 

A huge smile stretch’s on your face, “Are you going to let me join the spider society?” 

Miguel gently creases your chin and pulls you closer to his face, “perhaps if you learn not to be so clumsy” he quickly teases before he places a kiss on your nose. 

Huffing you are not entertained by his teasing. Watching him with a pout you see that perfect body of his roll off the bed heading towards the bathroom. 

“You know, you're not funny Mr.-” you stop. -Shit after all that you still don't know his lastname…

“O’Hara” His smooth voice breaks your thoughts.-O’Hara, huh?

“Now come on, I want to take a shower with my pretty girl before I have to go back to HQ” 

“Your leaving me already?”

Miguel approaches wrapping his arms around you pulling you closer to his bare body. “Don’t worry pet, I plan on taking you with me.” Leaning down you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear making a familiar heat shoot down to your stomach.

“Maybe I will even let you sit on my lap while I work…”

Tags:

@xspideyxx

[giantologist]

Relics and Remains

The find of a lifetime!

"Professor Finch? You in there?"

With a snort, Finch jolted from his desk, a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek. He pulled it off with a yawn, setting it down and looking at the clock. Seven in the morning. He'd stayed at his desk all night again, only catching half an hour's sleep. Stretching his back, he grumbled as he walked to the balcony that he'd had installed for precisely this purpose.

He recognised the giant kneeling before him, her face above him dirty and slightly sweaty. "Good morning, Skadi." Finch smiled tiredly at her. She'd shaved her head since he last saw her, but he recognised her tattoos and frankly incredible muscle structure. If he were the kind to be attracted to women, he was certain that she'd catch his eye.

"You are not gonna believe this." Skadi said with a squeak that made Finch feel a mix of anticipation and suspicion.

"Right, so, yeah, after you gave those dwarves a recommendation to hire me as a miner, we've been really seeing progress, I've been expanding their tunnels bigger than they ever dreamed. I'm so great at it too, not to blow my own whistle, but the other day--"

Finch held up a finger. "I've just woken up, I need some coffee, but do continue." He left the doors open as he walked downstairs, hearing Skadi's voice just as easily as before as it thrummed through the walls.

"We were excavating deeper, under Scarfang Pass, and Tarlan told me he'd found a cavern down the way. Naturally, I wanted to take a look, and I spent all day digging a path, found some good ore for the lads, but you will never guess what was in the cavern."

The sunlight in his kitchen was cut off, and he turned to see a large eye at his window, focusing in on him. "Tell me what was in the cavern."

"You might wanna sit down."

"Skadi, please, I am very tired."

She laughed, rumbling his crockery, and he held his coffee tightly. "I've only gone and found a burial chamber for a colossal giant."

Smash.

Finch froze, not caring about the hot coffee wetting his slippers. "You…Are you serious?! If you tell me you're joking--"

"I'm not! I actually think it might be King Bjorn, y'know the legendary one."

"You mean Bjorn Fire-Feared?!" The fabled King had been damaged by the tragic death of his family, and ruled an entire province where fire was banned upon pain of death. It was such an ancient story that it seemed like it should be unbelievable. But never had Finch heard of a complete skeleton that old, as cremation was usually the done thing. "Oh, goodness, oh my, oh, Skadi!" He began to jump around in the puddle of coffee, clapping his hands and flailing them wildly. "Let's go!" He flung open his door and ran outside, only to stop in his tracks when two grubby fingers pinched his dressing gown.

"Hold on there, Prof." She curled her middle finger around his waist and lifted him up to his balcony. "You ain't goin' in the mines in your silkies. Get your boots on and pack a lunch. He's not about to get up and walk off."

As much as Finch wanted to rush, he knew she was right. He'd get his adventuring gear too, as it was better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

oOo

They were close. On their walk, Skadi had been gushing about how much she loved working. He remembered when the dwarves had come to him asking for help getting rid of her from her cave that she had excavated herself. Their 180 in their opinion of her had been down to him, and it seemed that although their warming to her was slow-going, they did in fact enjoy her presence around the mines.

"Finbar is the worst for it though. Every day at lunch he always pretends he's lost his, and yes I don't mind giving humans crumbs, but have you seen how much a dwarf can eat? They're like bottomless pits, I end up with a half empty lunchbox by the time I've finished letting the lads eat what they want. They always joke about me snacking on them, and I've half a mind to if they think about touching my honey cake."

"Remind me not to get between you and your sweet tooth then." Finch replied from her shoulder, glad that she'd found somewhere she fit in.

Speaking of fitting in, the entrance to the mine she led him to was nowhere near big enough for her to stand. Finch was confused until he noticed the grooves in the rock on the edges of the tunnel. It seemed that to get to the main excavation, she crawled along the trenches, any miners and carts passing safely beneath her. As for transport, she slipped him into a pocket on her shoulder, seemingly oriented for just this occasion.

Finch didn't like being underground. A cave, that was fine. A canyon, he could deal with. But a tunnel that sunk into the darkness, unlit and endless, he had to duck into the pocket in order to keep himself calm.

The relief when she finally stood once more made him feel dizzy, but she nudged him onto her shoulder. "Here we go." Her voice echoed for what seemed like years as she used a nearby sconce to light her torch. As it flared into flames, Finch gasped so hard he almost choked.

The steeple of the tallest temple would be dwarfed by the breadth of the skull staring at the pair of them. Despite the intensity of the torchlight, it was difficult to make out even the beginning of the rib bones that xylophoned down toward the rest of the skeleton. It was almost unfathomable in its scale, Finch's jaw slack, his eyes boggling, bereft of speech. He could tell that Skadi was smirking at him, waiting for him to voice his amazement, but he couldn't even move, his body rigid and stunned. Never had he seen a complete skeleton. A tooth, perhaps. A finger bone, maybe. One faceplate buried into a mountainside. But nothing compared to this.

"Should we leave then?"

"Certainly not!" Finch shrieked, his shrill echo sounding like the cave was full of birds. "Oh, to be immortal, to study every inch of this cavern! It would take me centuries!"

"Let's just start with this, eh?" Skadi turned and lifted her torch. The wall above the ancient King's skull sent flickering shadows between the grooves of runes and pictograms, and immediately Finch gave her earring an excited tug forward, making her chuckle as she stepped toward it. "Heh. Don't recognise that dialect."

"It's from the birth of giantish runes! Look, it's even before the letter atte was standardised! Torch left." She did as he asked, illuminating one of the pictures with accompanying runes. "This was meant to be his epitaph. 'Tal vusar kan ur naum'. The Tomb of the Lord of Ruin." He exhaled shakily, his skin rising in gooseflesh. "The carving shows Bjorn Fire-Feared banning the use of fire. Those people there are freezing, those are starving, there's no tools or weapons being made. Torch right."

The next carving made him shudder. "He would send armies of humans and giants to punish anyone continuing to light fires. This says a village was struck by lightning, and he personally flattened it with two steps."

Skadi whistled. "What a shitty guy."

"I don't understand why they went to so much trouble to bury him if he was this abhorrent! Why not simply burn him and celebrate being free?" Finch twirled his moustache in thought. "Skadi, would you mind if I asked you for a favour?"

"As long as you sketch me beside the skull and put it in the book."

"With pleasure!" He smiled. "I need a little more light. Could you set up some braziers, perhaps? Just along the wall, and around his skull?" He pushed his spectacles up his long nose. "I should get these enchanted with dark vision…"

"Sure, Prof. Just a minute." Skadi looked around and reached for a stalagmite, breaking off the point with a tug of her mighty arm. She set Finch on the flat surface so she didn't accidentally tread on him, then her light retreated with her rumbling steps. He could hear her thundering voice calling for various dwarves to help her.

He dangled his legs over the edge of his rocky platform, closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady his heart. "How did you die? Some legends say you went mad and set light to yourself, but that clearly isn't true. Others say you gorged yourself on so many towns that the buildings burst your stomach. I've heard you were murdered by your closest friend. I can't imagine you were close to anyone. Perhaps if you were, you might not have been so cruel."

Skadi's booming presence passed him in the dark, and he envied her low-light vision for a moment, hearing clanks and clangs from all around him. Flint and steel. The roof of the cavern was suddenly lit with the impression of a skull as Skadi lit the first fire inside the King's head since he had died. One by one, slowly but surely, she cast light on the area for him, dusting off her hands once she was finished. Their area of the cave wasn't bright, but after so long in the dark, Finch could see relatively clearly. "There we go. Want me to walk you down?"

"Please." He hopped onto her hand so she could transfer him back to her shoulder, and she began at the start of the wall. As he got out his journal, she kept quiet, knowing he probably wouldn't answer her even if she did speak. He used her ear lobe to steer her almost as an extension of his own body, able to write at his own pace as the history unfurled before him.

Bjorn Fire-Feared used to be called Bjorn Stone-Hand, one of the few remaining colossal giants after the appearance of the other races, when a world of rock and bone became verdant and green. He proclaimed himself King to stop giants and humans from being at war, and it worked for a time, his country prospering so much that it could support two of his kind. His firstborn was praised as a Prince, and the land was happy. Until dissenters used pitch to set his house alight, killing his family. And then the dark times. His spiral into madness, dragging a whole nation into the cold. Almost the entire kingdom dug the grave to his command, many perishing as a result.

"He planned it." Finch said, startling Skadi. He easily kept balanced as she jumped, second nature to him, and she exhaled sharply, her heart audibly fast. "Of course he did, he died here! Nobody could've moved his body, he came here willingly!"

"So how did he die?"

"It doesn't say." Finch tapped his chin with his pencil. "Let's go look at his bones, see if I can find anything."

She nodded and turned away from the wall, approaching the skeleton. Almost vibrating with excitement, Finch stared upward with amazement at the mountainous reach of the King's jawbone, Skadi trailing her hand against it as she ducked through the letterbox shaped slot where his front teeth used to lay, into what was his mouth. "Must've been odd for giants my size back then. Not the biggest fish in the pond."

"Is easily fitting in someone's mouth changing your perspective?" Finch asked, motioning to be set down.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Skadi put Finch on the ground and passed him a torch that was comparatively a splinter. He lit it from the brazier, then began slowly walking from one end of the skull to the other. "He really had bad dental hygiene. Look at the holes there."

Finch paused by one of his bottom molars, humming with thought as he scaled his jawbone so as to better see. "There's a cavity."

"I rest my case." Skadi said with a grin, jamming her torch between two of the teeth and hopping backwards onto them as one might a countertop, sitting comfortably.

Gasping softly, Finch realised the hole was large enough for him to fit into, the edges rounded and smooth, the inside of the tooth hollow. A collection of objects, most rotted away, sat inside the tooth, along with what seemed like a human skeleton. "Wait a second." He flicked through his notes. "That phrase, it was literally 'fang hermit', it wasn't a metaphor. I think this must've been some kind of political prisoner." He scribbled something down. "Let's see… She must have lived here for some time, considering how worn her doorway is. And I think she may have been shackled to the enamel."

Skadi grimaced. "He really must have been bonkers. Imagine living in some geezer's tooth, eugh."

Finch cleared his throat, straightening his glasses. "Does this practice ring any bells to you?"

"Not a tinkle. I guess whatever it was, it was a big guy thing." Skadi hummed. "How did she feed herself?"

Finch stroked his chin. "One would suspect the same way a symbiosis would function..." Something felt odd about this. Not a single tooth he'd found in his life was the same as Bjorn's. He carefully lifted the scrap of fabric upon which the bones lay, moving it away from the pile without jostling the skeleton. He rummaged through the various bits and pieces, most of them being the usual detritus one might expect to see caught between a large giant's teeth; wood and bone and brick. However, buried in the smallest corner he found a metal lockbox, beautifully designed, screwed into the wall of the tooth. Trying not to damage either, he carefully used a nearby piece of metal to pry the box open, the rusted lock breaking with a shriek.

A leather-bound journal looked up at him as if proud to have weathered the wear of time. He was very careful with it regardless, and he stepped out onto the bone that surrounded the tooth house, sitting and tentatively opening the pages.

Skadi watched as he read, hearing his soft gasps and excited titters as he whispered the words to himself. "Well? Good read?"

"I translated the wall wrong. The two giants the land could support weren't he and his wife, it was him and his son. This is his wife."

Wrinkling her nose, Skadi slid from her sitting position and walked over, taking a knee beside Finch. "He imprisoned his wife in his mouth? That's messed up."

"O-Oh…" Finch exhaled when he turned the page. "She was just as disturbed by the fire as he was. She didn't want to lose him too, and after a failed poisoning, she wanted to be vigilant and make sure all of his food was clean." He tapped the page. "The chain was a safety measure. She must have really loved him to give up her life to keep him safe."

"If she did such a good job, what killed them both?"

Finch flipped through the pages. "She died first. There's no record of anything past the destruction of the town that was struck by lightning."

"Yeah, so that means… What does that mean?"

Suddenly alert, Finch leapt to his feet, slowly walking along the bony platform that held the teeth in place. "Let's see… If I could just… Aha!" He reached between two teeth and pulled out the long-rotted husk of a large seed, the size of a grape. "Titanfeller berries."

Skadi almost knocked Finch off his perch when she scrambled backward, and he could hear her nervous pulse through the rock. "Don't you bring that near me!" Finch still hadn't discovered what it was about titanfellers that was toxic to giants but not humans. Still, he was thankful that the seeds weren't viable. The near-extinction of a plant should've been sad to him, but he was happy that they wouldn't be used for nefarious purposes.

"Just don't lick anything, you'll be fine." He twirled his moustache around his index finger. "So… What do we know?" He carefully climbed down to the rocky floor, strolling beneath the jaw and down beside the alien architecture of his spine. Away from the braziers, he couldn't see the ribs that arched above him, but he knew they were there, the whole skeleton mapped in his head. "Did he move here to die after being poisoned?" He mumbled.

"Aren't Kings usually buried with riches?" A male voice said from somewhere in the darkness, startling Finch. "I haven't seen any gold."

Finch lifted his torch, seeing the glittering eyes of a dwarf, sitting on a rock below the root of a rib. "Ah, rather astute, Mr…?"

"Call me Gudrun."

Skadi seemed to have composed herself, and walked over to the pair. "I've told you about Gudrun, haven't I? He's got a kid with a giantess near here."

Curiosity piqued, Finch looked at the dwarf with a smile. "Oh! Wonderful to make your acquaintance! May I ask you about that at a later date?"

"Yeah. Skadi knows where I am." Gudrun stroked his beard, looking around at the skeleton. "So, what have you found out about this guy?"

Finch explained the story behind the carvings, and what he'd found in Bjorn's skull. "I just don't understand the circumstances surrounding his death. His wife died… Then he died…"

Gudrun's bushy brows furrowed. "Well, if my wife died, Gods forbid, I know I'd struggle with living on."

Skadi hummed. "I wonder why he left her there."

Finch perked up, clapping excitedly. "That's it!" He grinned at the pair. "Think about it, if you'd just seen the King crush an entire village, would you risk being within biting distance?" He looked toward the illuminated eye sockets. "So he ate the berries voluntarily."

There was a moment of quiet before Gudrun cleared his throat. "Will you be wantin' his effects? He's got a ring on his left hand, seems valuable."

Finch perked up again. "Oh! Wonderful!" He almost ran, his torchlight fading into the gloom.

Skadi blew through tight lips, a hand on her waist, and Gudrun nodded with understanding. "...Your people are real strange." He said, and she shrugged with casual agreement. "My big girl, she has all kinds of customs that just twist my brain."

The pair heard an excited jumble of theories and conclusions echoing from somewhere in the dark. "None are as strange as humans."

"You're right there, lass."

When Skadi finally went to go see what Finch was so excited about, she was unimpressed. She expected piles upon piles of jewels. "What's that ring made of?"

Finch grinned up at her as he traced the patterns with his fingertip. "I don't know! That doesn't matter right now! Look at this! Oh, this is wonderful." He pushed a long button with all of his strength, and the ring popped open. It was far too heavy for him to open all the way, but Skadi leant a hand, and he stood on the finger bone to peer inside it. "There's a whole room in here!" He cried, leaping over the metal wall. The floor was carpeted, the walls lined with built-in furniture, long-since faded and freyed. Each had a number of hoops, presumably for attaching safety ropes to.

"You think he kept people in here?" Skadi asked, Gudrun appearing over the edge of the ring, looking like he was levitating without Skadi's hand in view.

As Finch immediately began to study the journals and sketches around him, Skadi set up another brazier for him, not wanting him to get eyestrain.

Gudrun touched the metal, then knocked on it. "Pure macronium. Y'know, this stuff is only found in meteorites, but as an ore it's unstable enough to dissipate on impact." When he noticed the pair looking at him, he cleared his throat somewhat bashfully. "The wife has a necklace with a small amount of it. It's a sacred thing."

"Yeah, my Pa said only people touched by the gods could smith with macronium. You've got to crack open the meteor with your bare hands, then slowly and patiently melt it down." She pressed her hand against the cold metal too. "Bet if humans listened to our legends instead of stabby-stabby they'd really find that interesting."

Finch opened a cupboard that was built into the wall, lifting his torch to get a better look. "OH! Books!"

Gudrun looked back to Finch who was reading with one hand and writing with the other. "Anything good?"

"I can't understand a word of this! Oh, how exciting! This must be where his Queen used to live, before the fire." He flipped through a few more with fingers practised in the art of being tender with artifacts. "This will keep me up all night! A few more hours without sleep won't do me any harm."

Skadi poked her tongue into her cheek as she thought. "You haven't been sleepin' at all, have you, Prof?"

"A few stray moments here and there. But that's not important!" He waved his hand at her, carefully filling his satchel with as much information as he could. "What is important is that I have so many answers! And even more new questions!" He beckoned her hand, hopping into it eagerly. "Let's keep going!"

Skadi shook her head. "Oh, no no. I'm not taking you anywhere." When he looked like he might try and leave her grasp, she curled her fingers firmly around him, making him yelp and check to make sure the papers were undamaged. "You're gonna have a nap."

"I'm not tired, I promise." He pushed at her fingers, but they wouldn't budge. "Please, I've got to see more! I had half an hour last night, that was sufficient." He knew that beyond reasoning, there wasn't much he could do. A giant had the ability to make anyone do anything they wanted.

"Hey, we discovered this tomb, so our rules apply. It's our lunch hour anyway." She scolded as she sat down on the rocky floor, leaning against the breadth of the ring band. "You want in, Gudrun?"

The dwarf nodded with a grin. "I never turn down an opportunity to have a kip."

Skadi placed the pair of them on the warm fabric on her chest, a stark contrast from the cold of the cave, and Finch huffed. "It's easy for you. I've only got my life to spend studying your kind. Both of you know that isn't a lot."

"A nap won't kill you, Prof. Don't make me swaddle you." Skadi grumbled. Gudrun was already almost asleep, and Finch sighed dramatically as he flopped onto his back. He realised then how exhausted he was, his mind still racing, but his body thanking him profusely for resting.

"...Gudrun?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about your wife?"

The dwarf stretched out, opening one eye to look at Finch. "Absolutely savage, she is. Tall, sharp teeth, penchant for raw meat, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She can rip open a dragon with her bare hands and feast on its still warm carcass."

"It seems as though she's perfect for you." Finch pondered softly. "What's her name, this ferocious beast of a woman?"

"Carol."

Skadi shushed them, knowing Finch wouldn't stop the questions there, but he got the message, closing his eyes. Just a little nap. Then he'd get to work. Five minutes...

[a-lonely-dunedain]

if you want an additional Situation, id be curious about ethedis with #2 :D

ok well. idk why my brain decided these go together but it turned out Very Mean oops. sorry it took so long my brain just, was Not letting me write descriptions. or dialogue. also idk why this is in 2nd person but that's just what it started as and I guess we're committed now *shrug*

#2: time loop (creative liberties taken) #6: reverse amnesia (no one can remember the character)

“Sorry, Corunir, was it? I think I’m a little lost-” Ethedis sets down her cup on the coffee table between the two of you, looking at you intently. There is the sound of rain pattering outside. You search her eyes for the faintest hint of recognition -futile, you know- but still she looks at you like a total stranger. Courteous, curious, but distant. “Can you explain it one more time?” You know it won’t do any good, but you start anyway.

“I’m afflicted by a curse. You’re not going to remember this conversation, you will not remember my face, my voice, or anything I’ve ever done. Sometime between now and dawn, you and everyone else I’ve met today will forget. And the same thing will happen tomorrow.” You managed to keep your voice level explaining it this time. You’ve had practice now. 

“I was a part of Golodir's Company, then the Grey Company, and then the Conquest of Gorgoroth. I became like this after retrieving some kind of cursed artifact from Mordor. I did not realize how dangerous it was at the time. Evidently the curse had a delayed reaction, as it only took effect after I had turned it over to the Houses of Lore for study and safekeeping.”

“I see…” You remain silent and let her process your admittedly hard to believe story. She always takes it better than most you encounter, no accusations of madness or ill intent at least. 

When your brothers see someone they don’t recognize wearing one of their stars, they tend to assume the worst, that it was stolen by an imposter trying to infiltrate their ranks or something of that nature. You of course don’t blame them for it, it’s an understandable reaction. There are so few of you left now, of course a stranger in one of their uniforms would be cause for alarm, but you cannot deny how much it hurts.

So you keep your star hidden when you speak to those of them still in the city. Sometimes you still try to explain your plight, sometimes they actually believe you, but always they forget by the next dawn. 

You find it hurts less to keep your distance from them. The mistrustful look in their eyes typically reserved for strangers is almost too much to bear. 

But Ethedis has always been a little more trusting. Ok a lot more trusting, to an almost worrying degree, but at least it means you have someone to talk to. Coming here to see her has probably been the only thing keeping you sane these last few weeks, she’s one of the few people you find easy to talk to in your current predicament.

The second time you came to her, you just broke. Realizing she truly remembered nothing about you, and the hopelessness of your situation truly starting to set in, is a pain you almost wished you could forget. 

But instead of doing the reasonable thing and demanding that the sobbing madman leave her room at once, she actually attempted to comfort you. A little clumsily perhaps, but the fact that she tried at all was enough to hold you together.

Maybe some part of her could see you were telling the truth, despite how strange it was. Some elves have the power to see into people’s hearts, and though Ethedis never believed she possessed such an ability, you have your own suspicions. She’s always finding new ways to surprise you.

She rummages around her belongings for a sheet of paper and something to write with. You don’t bother telling her it’s pointless. Come morning those papers she’s hastily scribbling down your story on will be blank once again, but you don’t stop her, there’s no reason to keep her from trying.

“So, this relic then,” she says without looking up from the paper “I assume you’ve already tried simply breaking it, and that clearly didn’t work.”

“Yes, the enchantment upon it protected it from any harm I was capable of.”

“I wonder if there’s something I could do to it… maybe tomorrow, after I’ve read over these notes, I could try-”

“I do not mean to sound rude in saying this, but I know that will not work.” You say gently, “You have tried that before, and many other things.” 

She’s attempted to unravel the enchantment a few times now, but truthfully you don’t want her anywhere near it. Not until you’ve exhausted all other options. The risk of her becoming cursed herself may be small, but it is far too great for you to bear. 

You think it might have been your proximity to the relic over such a long period of time that caused you to become like this, as it was on your person all the way from Mordor to Minas Tirith. But you still think it’s too risky for anyone to get near it, even for a short amount of time. Especially Ethedis. You cannot let her fall to this fate. You cannot let her be forgotten.

The scholars in the Houses of Lore at least seem to understand that whatever enchantment is on the relic is dangerous, so it is locked away far from anyone. Ethedis had to pull a great many strings for you to be allowed near it, until you learned who you needed to talk to and exactly what to say to be let in by yourself. 

“And, besides that, I guess I should tell you those notes will not be there for you to read tomorrow.”

“Ah.” her pencil stops “I take it the words will vanish as well as my memories?” 

you nod solemnly. “Anything written by or about me, I’m afraid. Truthfully, I did not come here to try to work out a solution. Not tonight.”

“Don’t tell me you're giving up, are you?” She asks sharply. Ah, there’s that stubborn hope you remember.

“No, not yet.” you sigh “But I am tired. Tired of all the dead ends. Right now, I just wanted to talk to you, hear your voice.”

“I suppose it would get rather lonely.”

You nod sadly. ‘Lonely’ seems a bit of a tame way to describe what you became after losing all your friends overnight, but it gets the point across.

“So, how did I know you?”

“In Angmar. You were there at my lowest point, when my spirit was broken by the Watchers, you gave me hope and light I thought were long beyond my reach. I have tried to be the same for you, in our battles with the Iron Crown, through the journey south, but… it seems I have once again fallen into my original role.”

She gives a thoughtful hum and glances out the window, between the storm and the darkness of night it is pitch black out there, but Ethedis still seems to be looking at something. “...Now that you mention it, it seems a bit unbelievable that I could have done all those things alone. I had not thought much about it, but it makes much more sense if I had a strong Ranger like you there with me.”

Your face gets a little flush “I think you give me a little too much credit, it was still mostly you-”

“Nonsense! I mean, Barad Gularan? Bogbereth? All those fights with Mordirith? They hardly seem like tasks for a lone elf, I must have had someone with me, and that must have been you.”

She looks back to you, her bright demeanor dimmed ever so slightly “I wish I remembered… You and I must have been close.”

“We were. Something other than friends, we loved each other, but we were not lovers, at least, not in the traditional sense. We didn’t really care what we called it, we were just… very important to each other.” It doesn’t feel right to refer to your relationship in the past-tense, you don’t want to think of it as being ‘over’, you still love her. But, you are a stranger to her now, present-tense would be inappropriate.

She looks at you piercingly, her bright green eyes seeming to search for something in you. Then her expression softens, something like pity almost.

“...do you need a hug?” 

You’re a little taken aback, she hasn’t asked that before. “I… wasn’t going to ask… I am a stranger to you after all, but if you’re offering-” you try to swallow a lump in your throat, and you cannot look her in the eyes “Yes. I need one.”

She walks over and sits next to you, then pulls you close. Tighter than you had expected, not how you think she would embrace a total stranger such as yourself.

You hadn’t noticed how cold you were until you felt the warmth of her arms. Ice has seeped into your very bones, and you do not want to let her go. It feels like it’s been years since you felt her embrace. The loneliness and the fear and the hopelessness all claw their way to the surface of your heart, desperate to be laid bare before her. You fight with everything you have not to sob into her shoulder.

You don’t want to let go, but you know you must. Your time here runs short.

As you pull away you hastily wipe away some stray tears that had fallen unbidden from your eyes.

“You will find some way to break this curse.” she states, her eyes not filled with hope, but with certainly. 

“If anyone else had said that I would think they were lying to be kind. Not you, though. I believe you.” She always has plenty of certainty to spare when you find yourself without any. There was a time when you might have thought it was mere naivety, but you know better now.

But you’ve been here too long now. It’s late, she might forget about you at any moment.

“I should be going now.” you say reluctantly “The curse will take effect soon I think, and I doubt you will be happy to find me in your room when that happens.”

As you walk through the door, a chill suddenly runs all the way through you, your blood turns to ice and your breath freezes in your lungs, now a puff of visible vapor before you. 

It’s happening again. You mistimed this visit, you had hoped to leave before this. You don’t want to turn around, you hate watching people forget, but you turn anyway.

Ethedis sits with the blank papers in front of her, seeming a little confused. She shakes her head as if to dispel some fog in her mind.

“...What on earth was I-” She looks up at you, the stranger in her doorway, and jumps to her feet in alarm.

“Um, hello? What are- what you are doing here?”

“Oh, sorry to disturb you, I just got a little lost.” You can’t hide the sadness in your gaze, and that probably only confuses her more.

“Wait, you…” she looks you up and down, then tilts her head “You look like a Ranger, but I have not seen you before… Who are you?”

You shrug “I should be going now.” and quickly make your exit.

She probably thinks she’s seen a ghost. You guess that isn’t too far off from the truth.

—

Eventually morning comes again. You walk through the streets of the lower circles, blending into the crowds like a ghost. 

You’re not really sure what you’re doing down here, but you find it’s easier to think when you’re walking, so here you are. 

You’ve been going around in circles in your head, no closer to any possible solution. Gandalf might have the power to undo this curse, but he is far away aiding the Conquest. You doubt he would be able to fix this without the relic on hand, and removing it from the Houses of Lore only risks exposing more people to the curse, so you wouldn’t dare try stealing it unless you had no other choice. If only you could send a message to him, but nothing you try to write ever leaves a trace. You could get Ethedis to write something to him again, but you’re starting to think anything written in your presence is doomed to vanish, as the last letter she wrote mentioned nothing about you or the curse, but it was still blank the next day. 

But something more alarming has come to your attention, too. It’s hard to gauge, but you think people are starting to forget about you faster than before. You feel chilled at odd hours of the day, and sometimes people cannot seem to look directly at you or hear your voice, almost as if you aren’t wholly there to them. You might not have time to wait for Gandalf. Could this curse even have the power to fully erase someone? You hope not, you hope you’re just imagining it, and you pray you never have to find out.

You wish you had never retrieved the damn thing. You don’t know what could have possibly possessed you to go to Mordor alone, not while Ethedis had not fully recovered from her injuries. You would have hated to leave her like that. You recall it made perfect sense at the time, it seemed important.

Another new worry has been clawing in the back of your mind. Perhaps you didn’t go to Mordor alone, and perhaps you were not the only one forgotten. Your actions do not make much sense otherwise-

In your distraction, you plowed headfirst into someone on the street. A young man with a distinctive red scarf and fiery hair to match. You do not know him. 

He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. You try to ask if he’s alright, but before you can say anything he quickly mutters an apology and slips out of sight into a nearby alleyway.

You think you should ignore him and focus on the task at hand, but, there was something else… 

When you touched him, you felt that same chill as before, when the curse takes effect every night. Smaller perhaps, but unmistakable. You still feel cold, you can see your breath.

The man with the scarf has some connection to it, and you need to get to the bottom of it.

—

(surprise! I found a way to be mean to Tossdir in this too! I am only a little sorry >:) you thought I just forgot to mention him earlier? nooo, but everyone else did! I have some vague ideas for where to go with this one actually. maybe I'll do a continuation if people are interested idk. this doesn't feel like my finest work but hey practice is practice and I think the concept is neat)

[writingwitchs]

Amy Santiago x Jake Peralta

Detective Amy Santiago sat at her desk, surrounded by the muted hum of the precinct. As the city's heartbeat echoed through the police station, she found herself drawn to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of her fingers on the keyboard. The vintage typewriter, a peculiar addition to her workspace, stood as a relic from a bygone era.

Her colleagues often teased her about the old contraption, but Amy cherished it. It was a gift from Jake Peralta, her husband, who understood her love for all things classic and timeless. The typewriter became Amy's sanctuary, a place where she could escape the constraints of modern technology and delve into the art of storytelling.

One rainy afternoon, when the precinct's energy seemed to match the dreary weather outside, Amy felt a surge of inspiration. The pitter-patter of raindrops against the window became the backdrop for her creativity. With a determined gleam in her eye, she fed a sheet of paper into the typewriter and began to compose a story.

The clacking of the keys transported Amy into a fictional realm, where she crafted a tale of a dedicated detective navigating the neon-lit streets of a city that never slept. The protagonist, much like Amy herself, chased echoes of forgotten dreams while balancing the complexities of love and justice.

As Amy delved into the narrative, she found herself drawing parallels between the character she was creating and her own experiences. The city in her story mirrored the Brooklyn she patrolled, and the protagonist's pursuit of justice resonated with Amy's unwavering commitment to her job.

Hours passed, and the rain outside intensified, casting a cozy ambiance within the precinct. Amy's colleagues had left for the day, leaving her alone with the soft glow of her desk lamp and the steady cadence of the typewriter.

In the fictional world Amy had crafted, her protagonist faced a pivotal moment. A mysterious figure emerged from the shadows, and their connection mirrored the silent camaraderie Amy shared with Jake. The story unfolded with a dance under the city lights, capturing the essence of their own moments of joy amidst the chaos of their lives.

As the final keystrokes marked the conclusion of her narrative, Amy felt a sense of accomplishment. The story had become a reflection of her own journey, a testament to the resilience and passion that fueled her every day. With a satisfied smile, she carefully removed the paper from the typewriter, a tangible record of her creative endeavor.

The following morning, Amy arrived at the precinct, carrying the typewritten pages in her bag. She couldn't shake the anticipation of sharing her creation with Jake, eager to see his reaction to the fictionalized version of their love story. As she approached their shared desk, Jake noticed the glint of excitement in her eyes.

"What's got you so pumped, Amy?" he asked, curious.

Amy grinned, holding out the stack of pages. "I wrote something. A story. I think you'll like it."

Intrigued, Jake took the pages and began to read. Amy watched his expressions shift from amusement to genuine appreciation as he immersed himself in the tale she had woven. The story resonated with him on a profound level, capturing the essence of their relationship in a way that words spoken aloud often fell short.

When he finished reading, Jake looked up, a mixture of awe and love in his eyes. "Amy, this is amazing. It's like our own little adventure, but with more suspense and way cooler descriptions."

Amy blushed, grateful for his positive response. "I wanted to capture the magic of us, the way we dance through life together."

Jake leaned in, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "Well, you nailed it, partner. We've got our own detective love story, and it's epic."

And so, in the quiet corners of the precinct, amidst the rain-soaked streets of Brooklyn, Detective Amy Santiago found a creative haven in her vintage typewriter, immortalizing her love story with Jake one clack at a time.

[justatinybunwriting]

Haunted 1

Author's notes: This is part 1 of a Halloween themed story that I posted on Deviantart last year. The prompts are the remaining ones from the 31 day challenge from that time. One reason why I haven't uploaded this before on my previous account was because aside from the last couple of chapters, this story has no g/t. Since I'm no longer limiting myself with this blog, I can post any of the stories I want with my ocs regardless of the theme. So expect to see more "regular" stuff in the future alongside the giant tiny shenanigans x3

Synopsis: Jac and Aiden visits a haunted mansion on a scavenger hunt, where the latter discovers some of it's dark history

CW for some darker themes

With a slight push, the door opened with a loud creeeeeek 

Jac slowly made her way inside the abandoned house, taking care to not make a peep as she searched around for the next clue for their scavenger hunt. Switching on her flashlight, she was grossed out by the sheets of cobwebs and dust that largely blanketed the rooms. Some of which still had furniture that feel like relics of days gone by. 

"C'mon!" Jac spoke in a harsh whisper "Let's just find the paper so we can get outta here. Stat!" 

"A-xhoo" 

Lagging far behind her was Aiden, whose sinuses have flared up through the roof. "I don't like this place. It gives me the creeps..." 

"Well, the sooner we can find that paper, the sooner we can get going!" 

"Aren't we kinda, like... trespassing? Someone might still own this joint..." 

Jac was mostly wrapped up in her path on finding the missing clue. She was more determined to beat this game they've gotten swept up in; in her mind, there was no time to get concerned over something silly like this place being supposedly haunted.

Unfortunately for the shrunken Wile, Aiden wasn't able to do anything but focus on the eeriness of the house as a whole. When he wasn't clattering his teeth and firmly rooted in wherever place he chose to just... stand on, he was sneezing up a storm from all the dust that Jac had kicked up as she continued to dive deep into her search. 

"What are you doing? Help me out by looking around in any of the other rooms!" 

"Uh, yeah! I'm on it!" 

Aiden was actually grateful to have gotten away from that dust cloud. The nearest entrance carried him to a large living room that housed shelving that was filled to the brim with rows of old books. On the furthest corner, there was a grand piano that appeared to be playing on its own. 

Wait... 

That was probably a prank the guys who set up the scavenger hunt made.

'It's a joke. No doubt about that one. Yep.' 

Just then, Aiden spotted something sticking out from the top of the piano- a small white sheet of paper. The Beta Wile was just about to lift the lid to gain access to it when he heard a voice reverberating from behind him. It felt like it was breathing down his neck. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" 

Aiden dropped the piano lid and squealed at the top of his lungs. The older gentleman from behind covered his ears and shouted, "What in tar nation's!!! Get a hold of yourself, young man!!" 

Aiden spun around and came face to face with the fellow who came up from behind, a time worn man who greeted him by tipping his black cowboy hat. The latter took a moment to recover his piercing eardrums before speaking. 

"Mornin' to ya, laddy." He spoke in a ruffled yet strong voice, "I wasn't expecting any guests in this fine hour." 

Aiden let out a long breath, holding his hand to his chest to calm his thumping heart. "Oh thank goodness. I had no idea anyone lived here." 

"Who? Me? Naw.. I wouldn't dream of it. I just own this plot of land here and I come over to check in on it every now and again." 

"Uh! I'm sorry for barging in like this-" 

"No need for that now. I could use some company. Gets kinda lonely for me when I'm here." 

At that moment the room was lit with a bright orange glow that shone from the large windows that took up half of the room. The sunrise looked marvelous from this view; Aiden couldn't help but stare at it in wonder for a bit. 

"It sure is pretty from up these hills" the older man said. "I had no idea we were in this house for so long..." 

"Don't worry about it. You're welcome to stay as long as you like." 

Aiden was scanning the yard outside when he spotted a small skinny tree from a distance. The bark appeared to have been charred from a fire, and not a single leave adorned its branches. Aiden's eyes narrowed to a pencil slit, and he started to shiver at the tip of his shoulders. The landowner took notice of this. 

"While you're here, would you like for me to give you a rundown of the history of this place? I promise I won't take up too much of your time." 

That snapped Aiden back into focus. "Uhh.. sure? I don't see why not." 

The older gentleman gave out a long sigh through his nose before he proceeded. "Well this estate used to be owned by a very wealthy man. A cruel and wicked man who had used his money to carry out all sorts of fornication and what have you. Folks who worked for him would tell strange accounts of him harboring evil spirits... But I'm getting ahead of myself." 

He looked down at the piano, its tune continuing to play. "One day he brought home a woman who looked to be the prime of her youth. She was a sweet person, whose beauty matched both her appearance and her personality. He made her into the model wife- she cooked and cleaned and did everything for his needs. She loved him and he made himself to be the model man for her, only for her to discover that he was still craving other women behind her back. Before long, she confronted him about it. And that's when he--" 

The man began to sweat, and shook his head while pinching his eyes. Aiden watched this and drooped somewhat. He had sensed where this was going. The landowner turned his head to the sullen tree and finally spoke. 

"That tree right there? The man hung himself on it after he murdered his wife." 

The Wile opened his eyes widely when he heard that revelation, his stare never parting from the tree in question as the man went on. "That tree had lost all its luster and it hasn't grown any leaves since that time. Rumors spread of the man having housed as many as 108 unclean spirits within him during his life, which have now taken root in this entire area. But who can say if any of that holds any truth to it or not." The man then gave one more sigh. "Pardon me for taking up your time with this sad story." 

"Oh? Oh no. It was... eye opening. To say the least. It gives me more of a good reason to want to get out of here as soon as I can." 

"Do you believe in spirits?" 

"I... wish I didn't." 

The man had to laugh at that reaction. "Well, that's an honest answer! You seem to be mighty keen to them, that's for sure! All right then, that's fine by me if you want to get going. But before you do..." 

The man then picked up the piece of paper that had flung out of the piano before and handed it to the young Wile. "You'll be needing this, right?" 

Aiden had completely forgotten about what he had came for at that exact moment, but he was grateful to see the poorly handwritten sticky note when it was given. 

"Oh! Yeah. Thank you!" 

"I'd be careful with following the instructions for that if I were you." 

"Huh?" 

"Aiden!! What the hell!?" 

Aiden whipped around to see Jac covered in a fine coat of dust bunnies, panting and looking kind of beat. 

"Wha? Wha happened?" He replied. 

"I heard you scream!" 

"I did?!" 

"Yeah! Like a little girl!" 

"Hey! And... uhhh.. I didn't just now? The last time was about... maybe, ten minutes ago?" 

"No it wasn't! You had just come in here like a minute ago and then you screamed enough to scare the ghosts away!" 

Aiden took notice of what she had said, and it had just occurred to him at that point that the room was dark in the dead of night. 

"W-wait.... what time is it?" 

"It's half past midnight!" 

Aiden's face colored white momentarily as he was trying to wrap his head around those words. He looked down on his right hand to make sure that he hadn't been hallucinating. Sure enough... 

"You found it! Thank you so much Aiden!" 

"Y-yeah." 

Jac pulled the paper from his hands and held the flashlight onto it. 

Your next clue is in the graveyard next to Bartleby's tombstone 

Jac let out a very long groan. 

"I'm tired. We'll pick this up another time. Let's--" 

Aiden was ignoring much of what was being said, for he was transfixed to what he was seeing when he turned his head to the side where the old man had stood. Or rather, what he doesn't see. He retraced the man's steps in his mind multiple times and followed him as he made his way towards the windows and the side of the grand piano. Dust had covered much of the floor with a blanket of gray, disturbed by the shoe prints of the two visitors as they snooped around. However, no footprints were left where the man stood... 

"Aiden? Are you ok...?" 

Aiden remained silent. 

Jac took on a more comforting approach once she took this as an answer. "I'm sorry I brought you along into this. Let's go home okay?" 

"Y...yeah..." 

Jac patted Aiden on the back and helped him along as they made their way out. As soon as they closed the front door behind them, the piano, which had continuously played its tune on a loop, had finally stopped.

Next Chapter >>

[godzillalennium]

Godzilla Lennium 1998 chapter 4 Jade City Attractions

Once Godzilla placed his friends on the ground Jake, Hiroshi and Miyoko head through Jade City. Various sized buildings struck them in awe as they walk on foot around the area which contains at least 40,000 people. In the distance stood tall buildings and forest close by as well as an ancient building made of mixed grey and brown stone with strange looking relics near the doorway. Miyoko and Hiroshi than watched Jake wander off searching for a place that holds the first ticket. Hiroshi suggested that Miyoko follows him before trailing to the hotel.

"Where exactly is this ticket supposed to be?" Jake asked himself eventually arriving to the mysterious building with relics near the doorway. He walked up the stone steps smelling the mist filled warm air eventually turning his head after hearing Hiroshi by the bottom step whistling as Miyoko waves with a big smile on her face.

"Looks like you found an interesting place, why not go in and collect that ticket, so we can head on to the Jade Dragon hotel" stated Hiroshi.

Miyoko lets out a brief yawn, "Will you just go in there, take that test, pluck the ticket from someones hands and leave so we can walk around the city. Oh yeah, and so we can leave our belongings at the hotel" she responded.

"I don't think Godzilla is needed to test your skills yet but somewhere along the way you will have to. I can't wait to get in that hotel and see the large water fountain and see the firework display which is on every Friday" stated Hiroshi.

Jake went into the building only to slide to the basement finding himself in a mirror maze and on the floor was a piece of paper which gave him a clue and so Jake began following the lights corresponding to the legendary monsters that David had once summoned years ago following a trail of orbs that eventually leads him to another room.

"I see so you know of the legendary monster order and discovered me, you seem to be quite the knowledgeable one if you made it to me" stated a mystery woman.

Jake nodded, "Of course, I wish to enter Godzilla in to the championships" said Jake.

The mysterious woman sighed, "Apart from the championships, why do you intend on training Godzilla. Will you defend the planet or seek to destroy it if it cost your friends lives?" she asked before taking a bite of an apple.

"I would do whatever it takes to save my friends and the world, that's sure a stupid question lady" replied Jake.

The mysterious woman gulped and smirked, "It's been ten years since the last championship battle, you must have Godzilla battle the ones that have that intent. Once you collect the sheet music you can than have them protect you" she stated. Jake smiled, eagerly awaiting to pass her trial of various questions, including if Godzilla ever rebelled would he use ancient monsters to defeat him in battle.

Jake eventually got the ticket and headed through a door with a wave goodbye to the woman eventually leaving the building. Jake, Miyoko and Hiroshi than headed off towards the Jade Dragon Hotel and decided it was time to have a glorious feast and plan for the next few days. Godzilla, himself was eager to just enjoy himself taking a break from any monster battles and watch as humans in the distance enjoy a cruise on the lake nearby.

"It sure seems peaceful, I kinda like Jade City" he stated as an eerie monster named Gabara appeared.

"Who are you?" asked Godzilla giving the monster a puzzling expression.

Gabara lets out it's typical growl, "I'm traversing this area, and you seem to be around my favorite hill, now get ready for battle" he responds getting in to a stance.

"I take it that you seem to be a bully of some sort, so you want to challenge me. Very well, let's go than" stated Godzilla as he and Gabara walked in a circular motion until Gabara lunged at Godzilla who was eager enough to dodge the attack. Godzilla fell to the ground creating a dust cloud and bites Gabara's arm.

Gabara groans in agony, wailing like a dog but not long until it began sending voltage through his arm zapping Godzilla with his lightning rain technique. Godzilla than falls to the ground as Gabara soars into the air backwards. The music below the deck of the ship plays as several people dance not realizing what is going on across the water. Godzilla growls and somehow the Captain had one of the employees head below deck.

"A monster battle is in progress, nobody panic. Two giant creatures are in a duel" he complained as the cruise ship began to rock back and forth. The dj pushed the stop button on the music and began to run for the exit until a loud shout was heard.

"i recognize that roar from Godzilla, believe me I don't were in any danger at all, let the music commence" stated Hiroshi as he grabbed a chair asking a man where the nearest snack vending machine was.

Gabara and Godzilla continued the ferocious battle as they both used melee and special attacks smashing into various trees. Gabara than launched a nightmare blaster attack at Godzilla who eventually manages to avoid the concentrated energy from the monsters blue green hands. Godzilla than strikes with a radioactive beam, Gabara's face in shock, mouth wide opened. All he could do was scream internally in the confines of his mind which was incapable of comprehending how powerful the strength was as it came closer to his head. Gabara winced and landed face down to dodge the attack which struck a nearby cliff side causing a large chunk to fall in to the lake.

"Turbulence, I'm crying with turbulence!" shouted a man who felt the shock wave of the ship.

"Mmmm, Godzilla, now is not the time, if the military get called, we may as well kiss our adventures with Jake and Miyoko good bye" sighed Hiroshi placing a coin in to the vendor pondering what selection fits his taste, going back and forth over what kind of energy bar he may like.

"I FEEL I'M GOING TO FALL, GAHA!" shouted a man in below deck as Hiroshi proceeds to make a selection and the bar slowly presses against the glass leaving the elder feeling disappointment.

Hiroshi pushed up against the vending machine and lightly taps the side, "Guess this will be my newest disappointment on this trip, only the brilliant firework display of the Jade Dragon Hotel can calm my nerves now" he stated.

Gabara eventually fell to the ground, realizing that Godzilla was towering over him, quickly got up and begged on his knees for forgivness.

"You want forgiveness, after starting this with me, I can't walk through the wilderness half the time because I feel like I'm being pursued by enemies" said Godzilla showing his teeth, looking towards the sky letting out his iconic roar.

Gabara watched as a blue radioactive beam was forming from Godzilla's mouth and tried to think of something, as the swirling energy got larger and brighter. He felt like he was going to faint right then and there until.

"I'm sorry, I mean you no harm, I'm just one that usually picks on the weak. You see I'm usually the bully in human dreams at times and all I can say is I'm sorry, will you ever forgive me?" asked Gabara.

Godzilla's angry face became softer and the energy than dissipated in to the air. Godzilla than looked at the monster that was on the ground before him and his frown became a smile, "I'll forgive you this time but if you decide to attack me again, I will finish what you started" replied Godzilla as he walked towards a large hill where stood an abandoned lighthouse. Godzilla states that he was going to sleep for the rest of the day.

"Uh, can I join you, don't worry I won't attack you in your sleep or invade your dreams. I can still picture that attack knocking me down. You certainly have guts and I admire that. Even if I do give humans nightmares" cackled Gabara.

Godzilla who was lying down looking at the monster growled, "If I find you by this side of the lighthouse, I will attack, got it?" he asked.

"Ye, yeah you got it" responded Gabara as he lays on the soft ground overlooking the lake as the sun sets behind the hills and the moon fills the night sky.

A few days pass and on that fateful Friday night the Jade Dragon hotel was full of guest. Hiroshi looked at the money that Miyoko and Jake had just made and greeted the two of them who were wearing some new clothes.

"Miyoko looks nice, she even promised to go dancing with me later on, but why are you holding that energy bar wrapper in your hands?" asked Jake.

Hiroshi chuckles, "Oho, I heard Godzilla roaring while I was below the cruise ship watching people dancing, it really brings back memories" he replied. The lobby was loud as a few guest place a few coins in the fountain to make a wish. "Memories, did you ever have someone you liked?" asked Jake puzzled only to receive a yes from the elder.

"It was many years ago, I got lost in the woods one night and I was in fear that a monster would find me that night so I ran, I stumbled and injured my leg. I winced crying for help until she arrived. Anna Tanaka had saved my life wheeling me to a strange place that I didn't think was inhabited at all, she called it Ember Cape, The sword that I carry has pyro magic and it was her own sword. A shrine has been placed at the temple dedicated to her in honor of the great times we spent together. She was attacked by a monster and I wasn't able to rescue her"responded Hiroshi as a few tears rolled off his cheeks.

Jake wanted to say something but all he could do was pat Hiroshi's back. Hiroshi told him that he isn't worried because he believes that he will reunite with her again in another lifetime. Miyoko came to get Hiroshi and Jake and they than took the elevator to the top of the hotel with a man with his dog.

Miyoko smiled as her dark hair blows in the wind noticing other people below who couldn't get rooftop cards. "What a bummer, I feel bad that they couldn't get a view like this" she said.

"I know, but I bought them ahead of time while you and Jake were busy" stated Hiroshi.

Jake laughed, "I can't wait to see the finale with all green fireworks, it's going to be great, haha" said Jake.

The fireworks commenced lighting up the sky not far from where the two monsters sleep. "Ahh, oh no, the sky is burning, wake up you, wake up" groaned Gabara trying his best to wake Godzilla from his sleep.

Godzilla awakens and turns to the sky being filled with violet, red, blue, orange, lime and yellow fire works. "Those are just fireworks, go back to sleep will ya"he grumbled as the events continued.

Gabara thought that Godzilla would attack but he didn't and decides it is best to sleep regardless of the noise surrounding them. In a moment of quiet the Jade Dragon hotel than had the green firework finale causing Gabara to wake Godzilla again only this time in one hit Godzilla sends Gabara face first into the lake.

"Serves you right for waking me up again, can't a guy get some sleep without you bawking about the sky burning, sheesh?" asked Godzilla who eventually decided to watch the display in awe.

Once the finale was over the hotel as full as it was became emptied and only those who payed for their rooms stayed the night. Jake and Miyoko headed in to the center of Jade City and went dancing together as Hiroshi stayed behind sitting in his hotel room holding a photo.

"Anna, we've spent so much time together until that day you were attacked. I wanted to say it, but I never truly could. I cherished those times we had overlooking the ocean as the cherry blossoms bloomed and you were always just smiling telling me how Yumi and Kenji are going to be the best sword masters of Ember Cape. I, I really enjoyed your company. I truly loved you and everything about that place and I would love to see you again, my sweet Anna" stated Hiroshi as his tears trickled on to the photo of Anna with Hiroshi walking through the village.

[tragicallymisunderstand-ing]

I'm only writing on here because I've packed all my pens and paper off to the Midlands already.

How ridiculous. Skim off the non-essentials, I thought. Pack away and resign to the future that which I don't need to touch for weeks. I don't need to write. I can make any notes electronically.

And then the electronic obligations come pressing in from all sides. Sheets and cells and emails and links and forms both intuitive and janky to hell push notifications endless scrolling like slot machines

I escaped to the library today. Picked up the first book I liked the look of. Andrew Motion's Sleeping on Islands. And almost cried.

The kind of tears you cry when you are barely holding it together, but you have your lips pressed resolutely together like a petulant child, leaning into a strong headwind, eyes tearing only because of the wind of course, tears that don't fall but that are sniffed into and gather in sinuses, and then someone folds you into an embrace you did not dare ask for, because in an instant you are undone. You break completely and the pain pours forth from you.

From my fallible memory: poetry as independence... Poetry as the cousin of nonsense and tells the truth slantways... Poetry because when I am alone I hear sounds - rhythms and musical fragments - that only subside when translated into language... Poetry because it is solitary, and poetry because it makes that solitude communicative.

Help, I am drowning.

It's strange how we hanker for a lost world even as we know that our present one will presently be lost. I long for the elm-nested rooks of A.M.'s world, the frozen cattle troughs, the great expansive English oaks. A world where you could find and afford to rent a quaint dwelling with your young love, a world where you could legitimately pursue poetry and distill your essential being.

I don't deny, there is the engineer in me also. Meticulous, I love expressions, the eureka of pressures, valves and resistance, ergo. Physiology is wild mechanics that breathes. And if I can help other souls preserve their health and achieve their fulfilment also, so much the better.

I want the experience and expression of life, unfettered. I want that for everyone.

I believe that my love for poetry and my love for physiology are fundamentally the same. Both crafts, both puzzles that allow us to fully realise human experience.

So I write this because my commitment to the latter craft is eating me up, chewing the cud and spitting me out. I love you, but please leave a little me for what all this is for.

The Greats, the polymaths and the Renaissance men all had this luxury. I don't care about being great, but they all knew the importance of a varied diet. I was so lucky to have been nurtured on a varied diet as a child, handed out like nourishing treats by a knight of a different age. He once leaned out above Garret Hostel Lane and chuckled at his fellow students' twitterings ("...why don't you get her a ring a for her twenty-first and kill two birds with one stone?" "...when Angela came back she was a changed nurse!"). The castles still stand but that world is a relic now. I beg that I might still partake of my daily bread so that I might keep the life force that sustains me.

[reidslibrarybook]

Cursed

Pairing - Spencer x Fem!reader

Warnings - language, sexual innuendos, mentions of sex, kinda not proofread but skimmed (i'm doing better i swear)

Summary - Spencer gets up and leaves after the going gets hard, but you had no idea what you had done wrong or what sent him running.

Category - fluff

Word Count - 3.4k

A/N - another drunk!spencer fic...i’m sorry i couldn’t help myself 😩. i def do too many of these but he’s just too cute all drunk. also, you can imagine any season of reid but i just see him being in the earlier seasons tho.

masterlist

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—————————————-

It was as if he couldn’t breathe, the air in his lungs sucked out by the words that fell from your pretty lips. He loved kissing them and he loved the way they looked and he loved the funny lines you drop to make him laugh, but he didn’t love the phrase that danced in the air around him.

He wanted to jump out of his seat and run for the hills, the only thing holding him back was you— his beautiful significant other that never ceased to make him feel better after every single harrowing day at work or every dreaded phone call from his mother’s institution.

Spencer heard you walking towards him, your feet touching the wooden floor of your new apartment that you both invested in together. There was something so familiar about the words that came from you, something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

A collection of fallacies and feelings of false hope were incessantly plaguing his mind, holding him back from letting himself go to you fully. His flight response was something that you expressed your concern about, not wanting to be hurt if something had triggered him to run.

He was like a crumpled piece of paper with dark pencil markings— no matter how hard he tried, there was no feasible way for him to rid himself of the scars left by the folds or the relics that were the unerasable traces of lead.

He wished that he could go back to when he was a fresh sheet of copy paper, brand new with a shining true tone white gracing him— a purity and innocence that he wouldn’t be able to get back. You said you’d heal his wounds with the new memories that you’d make with him.

Your promises kept him occupied for a while, but when your relationship started to become more serious— he couldn’t think of anything but your preordained departure that would leave him in the despairs of hell once again.

He’d be lost in the dust, left to fight the tantalizing specks of chipped rock from the scorching drylands. Left alone to make his own way like he did so many times before as he charted lands of unknown territory with a knowledge even books couldn’t supply him.

You were an oasis in his extensive desert.

But then again, you had the same chance of existing as a mirage— a hallucination painted by his mind that had no visual differences from a safe haven but every ability to hurt him beyond the unimaginable circumstances he was subjected to.

“Spence? Are you going to make a reservation at the new Indian place or should I?” You cooed, running your fingers through his hair that he let grow out after your compliment.

He blinked before raising his hands to look up at you from the kitchen table. “R- right. I’m going to just go pick it up or something.”

“You don’t want to go out tonight?”

Spencer looked back down at the files splayed out in front of him, shuffling them together with his hands and stuffing them into the bag that was laid out carelessly on the chair beside him.

“N- no. I don’t think so. I’ll um, I’ll be back. I have to go,” he gulped, placing the bag on his shoulder and hurrying out before he opened the door with a swift motion. There was no reluctance in his actions, leaving you standing there while he slammed the front door and hurried down the stairs wordlessly.

You sat down, sighing and putting your head into your hands. There was no indication of any ailment that would have caused Spencer to just pick up and leave. He was so troubled by his mind that he didn’t realize the irony in his actions.

Afraid of being left behind yet so ready to evacuate as soon as the going got hard.

You had no idea why he left, why he decided that he couldn’t stand to be within 5 feet of you. There was an eerie feeling that crept up on your heart, not knowing whether or not it was something that you had done to send him scampering away like a rat that had been caught stealing from a kitchen.

It stung like the feelings of a thousand bee stings being combined into one large stinger that was used to stab your heart. It hurt you to know that he had been so scared… scared enough to drop everything and drive his car away to an unknown location for an unknown reason.

Spencer had a habit of running when it got hard or scary but you thought the two of you had worked past that— especially after he had asked you to move in with him. You took that as a step towards the right direction, a yellow brick road appearing for the two of you to follow all the way to the merry land of Oz.

You couldn’t help but question Spencer’s true thoughts, wondering if he was trembling in fear about your relationship as he hid behind a large curtain just like the wizard.

Putting up a façade for the sake of appearances… for the sake of you.

—————————

You were awoken by a vibrating sensation around your face, noticing that you had fallen asleep on the table. The sun had apparently mimicked your actions, its spot in the sky now inhabited by the moon reflecting the light of its sibling. It was comforting to know that there was an eternal balance in the sky— one you thought you and Spencer could conform to.

You picked up the phone and put it to your ear, rubbing your eyes and looking around the room for the time. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

You scrunched your nose, your brain working to analyze the voice that came from the phone— not thinking to check the caller ID that was displayed in big, bolded letters on the screen.

“Derek?”

“Yeah, you need to come and pick up your boyfriend. He’s a mess,” he sighed. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice that was also laced with concern.

“Sp- Spencer’s there with you?”

“Well… he’s not there, if you know what I mean.”

You sighed, “Now’s not the time to be cryptic, Derek. What is going on?”

“Woah there,” he laughed, “He’s just fine but I think he needs you right now.”

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I- I don’t know if he does.”

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “He just got up and left after I suggested we go on a date tonight.”

You could hear Derek’s breath hitch, a pained sound in his voice. “Wait…” he trailed off, “You don’t think he’s-”

“Of course not. I just don’t know if I’m the best person to help him through whatever it is he’s going through seeing as I’m probably the one who caused it.”

He laughed, holding back some laughter from the other end of the phone. “Kid, he’s literally rolling around on the couch with a pillow in his arms. He’s caressing the damn pillow, Y/N. IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S HUMPING MY $60 THROW PILLOW THAT I BOUGHT FOR SAVANNAH. I DON’T WANNA HAVE TO BLEACH IT IF HE ENDS UP COMING ALL OVER THAT THING.”

You giggled a bit.

“Y/N. I swear to god if you don’t get your man, i’ll grab his skinny ass and toss him back to your apartment with less meat on bones than he had befor-”

“Alright, settle down. I’m coming,” you laughed, walking around the side to grab your bag and exit the door.

Derek huffed out an angry breath and shouted, “DAMNIT, SPENCER. DON’T FUCKING LICK MY PILLOW!”

You hung up, fearing that the audio of the little comedy show coming from the other side of the phone would distract you from driving on the road.

It was a calming journey, the streets being fairly empty and free from the constant honking that followed the heavily trafficked streets of Quantico. Spencer hated driving, it was an unspoken rule that you were always the designated driver whenever the two of you were driving together.

You were afraid of what you were going to find out from Spencer’s handsomely loose lips. Taking advantage of someone while they’re in a drunken state isn’t the best idea, ethically, but that didn’t stop your curiosity from taking reign.

Derek opened the door before you got the chance to park the car, running out and forcefully opening the door. You couldn’t catch a breath, dragged into the house as Savannah waved from you from inside the hallway.

You gave her a smile back as you stumbled into his living room unprepared for your mess of a boyfriend. He looked like a spineless blob plopped onto the sofa as his arms and legs were spread in seemingly impossible ways.

“I found him hopping my fence to get to my outdoor bar,” Derek admitted, folding his arms and looking at Spencer with a look of intrigue.

“The same Spencer Reid that refused to have a sip of champagne at JJ’s wedding? Are you sure we’re talking about the same dork?”

Derek shook his head, waving you over to the monitor he had on a desk in the living room. His finger pushed the on button as his hand navigated through the security system he set up when he first bought the house with his wife a year ago.

A tab popped up as Derek rewound the tape all the way back to 9 pm when a pair of very familiar hands grabbed the top of the fence. Spencer’s tousled hair appeared from behind, his eyes rabid for something— most likely alcohol. He tossed his leg over, not ready for the straight fall to the ground he was about to face.

Spencer hit the well-kept lawn, fumbling around until he stood on his two feet that were clumsily planted on the ground. He continued going around until he reached the outdoor kitchen, a bar settled right in between the fire pit and the sink.

His hands made their way through the fridge to find the bottle of peppermint schnapps, which are known to be on the higher end of the spectrum when it came to alcohol concentrations. Spencer chugged the bottle relentlessly, downing every last drop without a care in the world.

He could barely handle half a shot, let alone a whole bottle of peppermint schnapps.

There was something so terrifying about his willingness to give in to a temptation that had no power over him before. Something so deterring to him like alcohol became appealing after a seemingly perfect day off spent with you at home.

“Believe me now?” Derek asked, leaning back onto the table and rubbing the back of his smooth head.

You sighed, “Yeah. I just, I don’t know what happened or what I did.”

“Look… he may be a genius but he’s also a damn idiot too. The man can barely go a day without drooling over your little picture on his desk. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought that pillow was you.”

“Right,” you laughed, walking over to the couch and rubbing Spencer’s thigh to get him to come to.

He grumbled, grabbing onto the pillow tighter than before and wiggling his face further into the stuffed fabric.

“Go away, let me wallow alone.” Spencer flailed his arms around aimlessly into the air, not intending

You pushed the hair out of his face, laughing at the little pout that had graced his lips. “Why are you wallowing?”

“B- because you said it and I didn’t want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

“The cursed words.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side as you leaned closer toward his face— illuminated by the yellow lamplight.

“Cursed? Wh- what cursed words?”

“I don’t wanna say ‘em or else I'll be doubly cursed,” he admitted, sitting up and holding the pillow right under his chin. His eyes were filled with a child-like worry, afraid of something that Spencer had never confessed to you.

You racked your brain, trying to think about what you could have said that made him end up in such a drunken mess. “Spencer. If I don’t know the words then I won’t know what not to say anymore,” you cooed, rubbing his back and looking at him as he gave you the sweetest puppy-dog eyes.

“I- I can’t, Y/N.”

“I’m sure it won’t matter if you don’t mean it,” you comforted.

“B- but I do mean it. I- I mean I will if I say it,” he whined.

You could tell he was conflicted, battling the thing that was holding him back from letting himself go into your arms. The two of you looked at each other, your eyes lost in the wonder of your feelings for the other.

“Spence-”

“Fine!” He gave in, exasperated, “You said ‘I love you’. Today. When I was about to call the restaurant.”

You gave him a dazed look of bewilderment, wrinkling your nose as you try to think back to that afternoon. Your expression stayed the same until you realized what he was talking about.

“Spencer,” you laughed, “I um, I didn’t say ‘I love you’, I said ‘I love it’. As in the food.”

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. “Y- you didn’t?”

“I didn’t, but…” you took his hands in yours, squeezing them, “I- I do lov-”

“No!” He took his hands and muffled your voice to keep you from saying them, “Don’t say it. I don’t wanna lose you too.”

You wiggled out of his hands. “What do you mean?”

He sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe the little bits of a tear that formed around the base of his eyes. “Every time someone tells me they love me, they always end up leaving. E- elle said that to me after we um, we talked in her hotel room and a couple of days after she just r- resigned. Ethan told me he loved me after we took the entrance exams and then he decided he wanted to leave right after. M- my dad said them right when he left and never came back. And m- my mom, those were the last words my mom said to me completely lucid. I just… idontwannahaveyouleavemetoo,” he cried, mumbling into your shoulder as he leaped into your embrace.

“Spence,” you bubbled, “I’m not going anywhere, especially not when I feel the way I do about you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know if I am leaving. I wouldn’t just pick up and go. You’re too special to me, you’re too important. I love you too much to leave.”

He moved his head so he had a view of your face, pursing his lips as he tried to hold back tears caused by your words. “Really? You’d stay?”

“Of course I would. I’ve spent too much time listening to your rants about how you and naked mole rats are one in the same,” you giggled.

“It’s true! There’s no way we’re unrelated. I- I mean there’s soooo many-”

“Alright. I think talking about your relation to naked mole rats is inappropriate compared to our situation right now.”

He nodded, pressing his lips awkwardly into a thin line. “You know, there’s a story that I thought, and still think, is untrue. People often say that our moles are a remnant of our past lives, indicating the place where our soulmate kissed us the most. Soulmates traverse time and space, at least that’s what people say. If it’s true, then I don’t doubt that you left this mark right here,” he laughed, pointing to the dark mole on the side of his cheek, “It couldn’t be anyone but you.”

Your eyes began to water, listening to the ridiculous ramblings of a man in an inebriated stupor. “Spence-”

He lifted his head and looked at you with the widest his eyes had been that day. “That also means that you kissed me a lot in that one spot right on my-”

“Okay,” you cut him off, not knowing if Derek or Savannah was still lurking somewhere around the living room.

“I mean… I don’t need a mole to tell me that since you still do enjoy kissing me right there. I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it either,” he chuckled, “I do very very much enjoy it. It always feels so good.”

You close your eyes from the embarrassment, feeling your cheeks heat up as he kisses your cheeks and down your neck.

“I don’t think that hypothesis applies to every mole because that would mean we both enjoyed me kissing right in between your toes.”

He shrugged, “You never know.”

You laughed, “The one thing I do know is that you have nothing to be worried about. I’m not dropping you for anything. I need you to communicate with me when you’re feeling bad about something. You know, so I can be there to lick your wounds and all.”

Spencer nodded, using his nimble fingers to unbutton his shirt and open it up. He pointed to the bruise he must have gotten from falling on his way over the fence in Morgan’s backyard.

You opened your mouth as you began to speak before Morgan walked into the room, raising his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, that’s enough. I need you both to leave, neither of you is doing some kind of kinky shit on my couch that involves licking,” he shudders, “I would also like to get started on deep cleaning my damn pillow, please.”

Spencer blushed as you motioned for him to follow you, getting up and holding his hands so he wouldn’t fall. You walked past Derek. “I was going to tell him I meant it metaphorically before you so rudely interrupted,” you joked.

“Well, you owe me $23 worth of peppermint schnapps as your husband so rudely downed them all,” he mimicked, “I’ll also need 60 more if I can’t cleanse the pillow’s memory of your boyfriend humping it. That’s my gift for Sav and I don’t need her to get a vibe from it.”

“I’ll pay for as many pillows as you want, Derek. Thank you for calling me over.”

“Anytime, kid. You two are endgame, there’s nothing that can convince me otherwise,” he laughed, hugging you before you frantically looked around for Spencer. You give him a curt wave before stepping out and being bombarded by Spencer’s hands.

“Wanna tell me what you were doing to that pillow?” You asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and directing him toward your car.

“You’re just gonna tease me if I tell you. Then you’re gonna tell Derek and he’s gonna tell everyone else about it,” he lamented.

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I was um,” he shifted as he settled into the passenger seat, “I was using the pillow to simulate you in bed. I wanted to figure out the best angle for me to fuck you while my face is next to your chest.”

Your hands almost left the wheel to cover your mouth, surprised by the words that left his mouth. “Spencer,” you gasped.

“What? You asked!”

You shook your head with a wide smile on your face. “Makes me wonder what you’re doing when you’re really alone.”

“You don’t wanna know,” he slurred.

You chuckled as his hands migrated to your face, caressing up and down while you drove home.

“I never got you back for cursing me.”

“Well, you should do something to get me back.”

A boyish grin was smacked across his face. “Iloveyouandiwannamarryyousomedayyyyy,” he blurted.

You stayed silent until you stopped at the next red light, looking over to find the man next to you passed out with his head resting against the window. You smiled, thinking about the memories you were bound to make and the ones that would surface from your past as soulmates.

Spencer didn’t believe in hypotheses and neither did you, but there were some things that you just couldn’t prove.

Things that you couldn’t state with a definitive answer on paper.

You and Spencer knew that, but it didn’t stop you from being cursed together.

—————————————-

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[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain. 

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice. 

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly. 

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger. 

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language. 

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident." 

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution. 

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage. 

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together. 

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years." 

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!" 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on." 

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue. 

"Aren't you going to finish the song?" 

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you. 

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me." 

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead." 

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them." 

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things. 

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice. 

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were. 

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about. 

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with." 

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?" 

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore." 

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked. 

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?" 

You admitted it point-blank. "No." 

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly." 

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood! 

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?" 

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?" 

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute. 

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles. 

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders." 

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand. 

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield. 

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin." 

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library. 

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!" 

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge. 

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance. 

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again. 

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try. 

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look. 

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine. 

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it. 

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere. 

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!" 

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center. 

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it." 

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free. 

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center. 

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen." 

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground. 

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again." 

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'. 

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it." 

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors. 

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of. 

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick." 

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?" 

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that." 

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?" 

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable." 

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now." 

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.” 

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?” 

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.” 

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.” 

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?” 

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.” 

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?" 

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.” 

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach. 

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?" 

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around." 

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor." 

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom. 

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set. 

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got." 

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz." 

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving. 

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap. 

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do." 

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant. 

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you." 

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside." 

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do. 

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.” 

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

.

.

.

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails​

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate​

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-

“You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”

No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.

“THANK YOU???”

You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood. 
As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.

“Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter​

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?’

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown​

------------------------------- By @buglife​

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg.  “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips​

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie​

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris​

------------------------------- By @payasita​

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

-

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

-

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

-

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

There she was, fighting past the many hive that swarmed the Dreaming City, Saint-14 doing the same on the opposite side. It was then Saint mentioned that his Ghost, Geppetto said there was another Ghost nearby. He asked for the light-bearer to reveal themself, and he did so.

"That would be me." Crow's voice stated, suddenly coming on the communication link.

Thera was surprised. Had not Zavala told him to stay in the Tower while she and Saint-14 left to find Osiris? Saint voiced her thoughts.

"Osiris called me for help," Crow explained. "With all these hive around, I can see why. This reeks of Xivu Arath."

"He . . . called you? No. Go home." Saint ordered. "This is not your fight to take; it is mine."

"You can't keep him in a cage, Saint. You're not the only one who care's about him."

"Lectures? You know nothing!" Saint shouted. "Osiris is not himself, and I will be the one to bring him back."

The coms fell silent as Thera fought. And after falling back into cover to heal any wounds, she told her Ghost, "Open a private com with Crow, Scout."

Her Ghost did so.

"Thera?" Crow asked.

"I think you deserve to be here Crow. I want you to know that." She said.

"Thank you Thera."

After the fighting concluded, Crow came onto the open com link once more. "Still fumbling around in the overworld, old light?"

"I'm not that old."

He directed her to an awoken device nearby, explaining it would take her to the Ascendant Plane.

"Crow and I used them to hide from Wrathborn," Glint added.

"Stalk," Crow sighed. "We were stalking, not hiding."

Thera giggled.

It wasn't long before she was in the Ascendant Plane, fighting through the taken there, including the wrathborn that attacked her, and then was back on the other side. They converged at Osiris's signal, just as Saint had said.

Together, they walked, side by side, her and Saint. Crow had arrived there first. Mara Sov, Queen of the Awoken, stood in front of them, and behind her, Osiris.

"Osiris," Began Saint. "You must come home. Answer for what you have done. The Vanguard will show mercy-" He pleaded.

"Yes," said Osiris. "Ikora and Commander Zavala are nothing if not generous. Queen Mara," He looked to her. "Look how they've welcomed the Crow into their flock."

My eyes flitted to Crow, though he could not see that underneath my helmet. However, his gaze still met mine. He stepped forward.

"It isn't too late. You can still be forgiven."

"Be careful." Said Osiris, pointing at him as he backed away. "I'll hold you to it." His voice drifted into that of a feminine one.

He transformed as Mara stepped forward. Saint-14 cried out in agony. The three of us backed away as Mara outstretched her arms from her sides and a burst of power consumed the being before us.

"WHERE IS OSIRIS." Saint demanded in anger.

She stood beside Crow, fear coursing through her. He noticed her rigid stance. He had come to notice all the little details she showed when she was afraid or when she became riddled with anxiety. She wanted badly to reach out, to grab his hand for comfort. But she wouldn't. Not with Mara there.

"Lower your weapons." Said the Queen. "Osiris still lives."

"You trust this thing?" Asked Saint in disgust.

"This thing and I have come to an agreement. You need only cooperate."

"What is it?" Crow asked, staring up at it, a mixture of both awe and fear showing on his face.

"I am Savathun." The cocoon spoke. "The Witch Queen, Sister of Shapes, Deepest in the Hive Coven, etcetera, etcetera. My sister Xivu Arath hunts me on behalf of another. I wish only to be free, and Mara Sov has graciously agreed to help." She explained.

Thera did not like this. A bad feeling buried itself in her gut. This is not good.

"And Osiris?" Crow asked for all of us.

"Sweet that you should care, little bird." Savathun mused. "I have been Osiris for as long as you have known him." The three of us shared a look. "But rest assured; I will return him safely to you, in exchange for your assistance."

"Queen of lies," Saint spat. "Pray this is the one time you are telling the truth." Then on a solemn note, he said to Crow and I, "The Vanguard must know what has happened here. Stay Guardians. I will go." And he turned and transmitted away.

"Someone once told me that the line between light and dark was very thin," Mara said after he had left. "Walk it alongside me. For Osiris."

She then instructed her to take an awoken relic and return to the H.E.L.M. Thera did so.

It wasn't until way later into the night that Thera returned to her suite in the Tower. Crow was already there, dressed in casual clothes for bed, a pair of navy sweat pants, and a black long-sleeved shirt. He was sitting at Thera's working desk, hunched over a few papers. A pen was in one hand, a datapad in the other. He looked up when she walked in.

"That was-" He began.

"Terrible. All of it. Every single detail." Thera finished, laying her helmet on the small round table near her kitchenette.

Crow sighed. "Yeah. It was, wasn't it?"

"Savathun was in our City the entire time, and no one noticed. Not a single person. Not even Ikora, who's known him for the longest time. Not even Saint!"

Crow laid down the datapad and walked over to Thera to wrap her in a hug. Her bulky armor made it uncomfortable, but she loved it all the same.

"I need to change. And take a shower." Thera said after they broke apart.

"I'll heat up some food." Crow offered. "We have leftovers from that pasta you made yesterday."

Thera nodded and went to the small bathroom. When she returned, she dressed, Crow avoiding looking at her out of respect.

"Come now, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Still, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She plopped down on the bed where he now sat, book open in his lap. She put her chin on his thigh and stared at the open pages.

"Is that my sweater?" Crow asked.

"Maybe."

He smiled. "I'll go get your food." He stood from the bed, placed the book on the nightstand, and grabbed the plate from the microwave."

Thera only picked at it after Crow handed it to her.

"I won't have you starving yourself." He said after he sat down beside her again and noticed the way she pushed the food around her plate. "I know you haven't had much to eat today. Just those granola bars I stocked in your ship."

Thera took a bite. Crow laid back against a pillow, his arms behind his head, eyes closed. Thera continued to sit up and eat. Beside them, on the nightstand, laid Glint and Scout, cuddled together on the blanket nest.

"Crow?"

"Hm?" He opened one eye.

"I'm scared."

"About what?" He sat up to look at her.

"Savathun. What if she gets someone else? What if she got you? Or Ann? Or-"

"That won't happen."

"How do you know?" She whispered, placing her plate on the floor beside the bed.

Crow was silent. He didn't know. And he wasn't sure how to promise that it would never happen. Then something struck him.

"Listen. Let's make ourselves a code word. Something, that if Savathun took over us, we could ask the other and if they didn't respond with that certain word, we'd know."

"What would the word be?"

"Hm. It would have to be something Savathun would never guess. Biscotti." He said.

"Biscotti?" Thera laughed.

"Yeah, biscotti. It was one of my Dawning presents from you."

"Yes. I remember." Thera smiled.

"It's getting late." Crow glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read late into the midnight hours. "Bedtime."

Crow pulled back the sheets of the bed as Thera got up to turn out the light. Crow left the lamplight on. When Thera got back from the light switch by the bathroom door, Crow was laying right in the center of the bed, arms crossed behind his head again, eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

"Move," Thera nudged him.

He didn't. Only feigned snoring. But she saw the way his lips perked up a bit as he fought back a smile.

She grinned then threw herself on top of him.

"Uff," Crow grunted. Thera curled into his chest.

"I told you to move."

"Mmm." Crow opened his gleaming orange eyes to stare at Thera, and removed one arm from behind his head to mess with her hair.

She positioned her head under his chin, and after finally finding a comfortable spot, she relaxed. And it wasn't until seconds later that she was asleep, the hard fighting of the day taking its toll on her.

"Sleep well, darling. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, reached down and pulled the covers over them both, and then turned off the lamplight.

[gusu-emilu]

Whumptober 2021 Day 1: “You have to let go”

Fandom: MDZS/CQL Ship: Mo Xuanyu / Nie Huaisang Rating: T, Major Character Death Wordcount: 1166 Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death

He and Mo Xuanyu have always been meant to part ways in the end.

"You have to let go," Huaisang tells the trembling figure in front of him.

The young man hangs his head, disheveled hair draping over his face. He leans forward as if to bury himself in Huaisang's chest, but not close enough for his face to touch Huaisang’s robes.

A lacquered wooden makeup case rattles in the young man’s hands as his fingers abuse its lid. The makeup case is empty, save for a trace of crimson dust. Several other empty cases litter the ground like bodies cut open after an ambush. They surround the name Mo Xuanyu and a collection of obscene words written in stark red and white on the ground. The sneering voices of Jin cultivators, long since gone, still slither through the air around them, as if crawling out of the crude letters they smeared into the ground.

So this is Jin Guangyao’s newly-discovered brother.

Huaisang feels a sharp pang of sympathy for Mo Xuanyu. To have his passions strewn to the floor, to be looked down upon and mocked, to feel alone in his own sect...

"It's alright," Huaisang says gently, not for the first time. "They're gone now."

But despite his coaxing, Mo Xuanyu still refuses to uncurl his fingers from the case in his hands, still refuses to speak or look him in the eye. Maybe Huaisang should leave.

"How about I give you some of my cosmetics?" he tries.

Mo Xuanyu grips the case harder. "Why...why would you do that?"

Well, that's progress.

Huaisang rests the edge of his fan on the makeup case. Mo Xuanyu flinches and looks up. Rage flashes through his eyes before mellowing to puppy-like sadness and confusion.

Even in this state of disarray, the white powder on his face wet, red streaks smearing down over his cheekbones, Mo Xuanyu is beautiful.

But Huaisang doesn't miss the startling forcefulness of that flash of anger, steely and concentrated like the tension of a wrought bow. He wouldn't have expected such rage from someone who seems to want to make himself as small as possible.

Mo Xuanyu is miserable.

Luckily for both of them, misery loves company.

"Consider it a gift of initiation," Huaisang finally answers.

"Initiation of...what?"

Huaisang slips a jade powder case from his sleeve and holds it out. Opening his fan with a spirited snap, he smiles and cocks an eyebrow. "Initiation of our friendship, of course."

Mo Xuanyu stares wide-eyed at the powder case and its intricate design of swirling patterns and twin magpies. He blinks, and the faintest smile appears on his lips.

He reaches for the case.

* * *

"A-Yu!" Huaisang says through laughter. "You have to let go!"

Giggling, Mo Xuanyu hugs the bundle of Huaisang's robes against his bare body and dodges out of Huaisang's reach. His grin becomes sharper when he's mischievous like this, his movements more resolute than his usual delicacy. He is something totally other when he is smiling and cheerful, transforming like a tattered sheet of paper folded into the shape of a crane.

Huaisang can't hold back his grin. "Give me my robes back!"

"Not unless we stay here a little longer."

"You do realize that it must be for something important if it's me, of all people, who wants to get out of bed."

"It's that important?" Mo Xuanyu asks, caught off guard.

Huaisang shrugs. "Maybe not. I don't know." He relents and lies back down, letting Mo Xuanyu happily join him once more.

Breathes in the giddiness that masks the truth of their relationship, lets the comfort drown out his thoughts.

Huaisang knows their joyful moments together are fleeting. Mo Xuanyu will return to his place of scorn in Jinlintai and resume his secret studies of demonic cultivation. Huaisang will return to Qinghe and do his best to keep Da-ge’s mind from splitting along the lines that Baxia has carved into him.

Even without their separateness of their lives, Huaisang’s relationship with Mo Xuanyu will never be appropriate to make public. And, Huaisang tells himself, it is not that significant of a relationship anyway. Just a fling. Just some fun.

He tries not to let himself feel too much, tries not to become too attached. He knows it’s selfish to toy with someone whose life is so precarious, someone so fundamentally alone.

But he and Mo Xuanyu have always been meant to part ways in the end.

* * *

"You have to let it go," Jin Guangyao says, hand on Huaisang's shoulder.

Huaisang wants to cut off that hand. Cut off the fingers that plucked deceit on guqin strings. Cut off his whole arm.

For that, Huaisang would pick up a saber. Would touch one of those cursed blades that poisoned Da-ge.

But he won't.

Not like that.

Huaisang clenches his teeth and swallows the bile, lets Jin Guangyao's palm sink into his shoulder, smiles and nods and plays nice and plays dumb for "San-ge."

For now, he lets it go.

* * *

Huaisang is in bed with Mo Xuanyu, drowning out his grief, when he has the idea to let his lover go.

His mind makes the connections in a flash as his heart sinks, the last piece of his plan fitting into place like a missing bone from a skeleton, like the final word of a curse.

Mo Xuanyu’s kiss seems to burn his lips that night.

Huaisang would call himself a selfish man, but he and Mo Xuanyu have always been meant to part ways in the end.

* * *

You have to let go, he tells himself when he finds Mo Xuanyu slumped over in a shack, clothes in tatters, blood weeping from his wrists.

This time, Mo Xuanyu hangs his head, but not against Huaisang's chest. This time, hideous crimson writing is scrawled on the ground around him, written not in Mo Xuanyu's cosmetic powder, but in his own blood, by his own hand.

This time, Mo Xuanyu offered the gift.

Why did you do it? Huaisang wants to ask, but knows the answer like it's written into his skin with the blood of the soul he helped kill.

* * *

As Huaisang sits alone in his room, he holds Mo Xuanyu’s jade powder case—the same powder case he had gifted to him when they first met—and thinks.

Mo Xuanyu had been consumed by revenge. Had let it take his body like a fire devours through a forest, stripping it dry, leaving only black, brittle remains of what had once been.

Had burned out in a flash and left the ashes for Huaisang to hold onto.

Huaisang can easily take things for granted, can easily throw away a vessel for happiness—he had always been selfish and only grown more callous each time something had slipped through his fingers and left cuts behind—

But they are invisible cuts, of course.

It is with smooth, unblemished skin that Huaisang caresses the carvings of Mo Xuanyu's powder case. Cradles the relic with clean hands.

Yet those hands are shaking.

Shaking, they refuse to let go...

[silentexplorer18]

One: Quiet Beginnings and Dusty Shelves

Word Count: 1,300+

Series Masterlist  ▪  Masterlist

Next ⪼

You were perched on a pillow on the floor of the common room, the emerald flicker of evening flames illuminating the pages of some forgotten relic of a book that nobody had probably read in the last century.  But you did.

Draco gulped, fingertips itching to grab the bundled stack of papers in his robe pocket, brittle sheets delicately wrapped in dragonhide.

He’d arrived late, curfew prowling for the Inquisitorial Squad always pushing him well past when his housemates had fallen asleep.  Except for you, who appeared to spend the pre-weekend evening face first in some book or another.

That’s how it always was with you, always a book.

Yet for some horrific reason he wanted to talk to you.  And he was terrified you wouldn’t want that.

How had he arrived at this juncture in his life?  Sweating at the prospect of speaking to a girl he’d been attempting to understand for months?  A girl who, by all intentions, probably wouldn’t care about his conversation in the slightest?  Like the great stories she read in dusty, leather bound books, it took time.

It began in First Year.

Most Slytherins possessed an appreciation for traditional things, but you were… different.

You were quiet and tended to keep to yourself.  That wasn’t particularly un-Slytherin of you, but it certainly didn’t help people understand the rather bizarre interests that flighted your fancy.  Namely, old literature.

Most of your housemates couldn’t be bothered with you, something that appeared to bother neither you nor them.  Well, mostly.

When Parkinson mentioned it at dinner a few weeks after the sorting ceremony, Draco hadn’t thought much of it.  “She reads all these strange books,” she hissed, squinting down the table at you where you sat drinking pumpkin juice, nose tucked in a leather-bound book.

Draco shrugged.  “What’s the matter with it?”

Glaring at him, Pansy reached for her goblet, held it like a wine glass, mimicking the high-society women she’d studied, the ones she would one day become.  “It’s terrible.  The first few weeks we’re supposed to make friends.  She surely hasn’t made any.”

“Are you offering?” Goyle asked, digging into a piece of pie.

She upturned her nose.  “Hardly.”

And that was that.

Until Fourth Year.

Parkinson had dropped into her seat for breakfast.  It was the day after returning for the year, and Draco had hardly given himself time to think of what the year’s woes would bring.  Thankfully, she was able to clue him in.

“It’s awful,” she lamented, stabbing a strawberry with her fork.  “I’m roomed with that horrid bookworm!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Draco asked, glancing toward your spot at the far end of the table.  Somehow you’d claimed it in First Year; nobody bothered to deny it to you since.  “At least she’s quiet.”

She rolled her eyes.  “She never leaves her room except for class!  I’ll never have any time to myself.”

Crabbe chuckled.  “Maybe it would do you good to stop shagging everyone in the girls’ dormitory.”

A huff.  An irritated glare.  Okay, maybe joking wasn’t going to rectify Parkinson’s issue.

��I’m sure you could ask her,” Goyle offered.  “She seems fine.”

“She’s probably a loon,” she whispered, “Nose always in a book.  Hardly talks to anyone.”

“I’ve only seen her talk with Loony Lovegood.”  Crabbe bit into his toast, hoping confirming her opinions would shut Parkinson up.

She gestured toward Crabbe, a delicate movement that didn’t match the frustration in her voice.  “See!  And I have to room with her for the year!”

“Find out what she reads,” Draco insisted.  “Then we’ll know what she’s up to.”

After three weeks of classes, Pansy was spilling the latest girl she’d been flirting with, and Draco’s mind snapped back to their earlier conversation.

“Did you ever find out what (Y/L/N) likes to read?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, waving a dismissive hand.  “She goes through them so quickly.  There was a Burbage I think, then a Eunice, a few Leontines or something of the sort.  She said they weren’t Muggle; we wouldn’t still be rooming together if they were.  But I don’t know who they are.  Anyway, back to Ava.  You wouldn’t believe what she said!”

But Draco lost interest after that.  Whatever Parkinson had been trying to say slipped past his mind as words like Burbage and Leontines flickered through his mind.

He found them in the library over the weekend.  On shelves coated with a thick layer of dust, he found ancient philosophies, texts on politics, memoirs of the first magic users.

At least you were erudite; something he certainly couldn’t say about Parkinson, Crabbe, or Goyle.

He kept an eye on you after that, followed your fingerprints as they trailed the dusty covers.  Suddenly, there was a lot more he wanted to read this year other than textbooks.  Sometimes he would purposely arrive to class late, just to peek at the title of your latest book.  He wanted to understand the knowledge you were cleaving to.

Over summer holiday, Draco found himself perusing his father’s private library, asking about authors well beyond his father’s years.  Tired of the pestering, his father unveiled a new room to him.  At least, new to him.

“This was my father’s old study,” he stated.  That curt tone disguising the pang that went through his chest at the sight of the dusty old desk and barren chairs.  “Do with the materials as you will.”  With a great swoosh, he disappeared down the hall.

Draco hardly came up for air that summer, drowned in swirling scripts and reprinted texts.  It nearly took his mother dragging him from the room for any Fifth Year preparations to be made.

But it had led up to this moment, staring at you as the green light painted the high points of your cheeks, dancing against the tips of your lashes.  It felt like now or never; like his first time on a broom, he just had to take that faithful step.

“What are you reading?” he asked, voice slicing through the silence.  Suddenly his heartbeat was drowning out the cracking of the fire, the distant rumble of rain on the lake’s surface echoing down, down down--

“Junius,” you said, staring at him with surprised eyes.

This was a test.  He had to know what to say.

“Seems a bit late for inquisitions into ethereal magic, wouldn’t you say?”

You glanced down, shutting the frayed cover.  “Perhaps.  I would’ve gone to bed eventually.”

A silence lulled between you, awkward, unnerving.

“I brought you a book.”  The words jumped out of him before he had time to consider what he was saying.

You arched a brow as he fetched the brittle pages, holding them out toward her, closer than before, though he couldn’t remember getting closer.  “It’s Quantavius.  An original.”

He could see the curiosity washing across your face, practically pulling you to the pages.  “And how do you know I like Quantavius?”

“I know things,” he shrugged, delight pinging through his chest like confetti before his internal celebration deflated.

You looked away.  “I can’t.”  Suddenly the book was being pushed back toward him, you were standing uncomfortably, glancing toward the exit.

He tried to stop his face from falling, but it was harder said than done.  “Why?”

“I don’t want to owe you, Malfoy.”

His brow furrowed.  “Owe me?”

“You’re on the Inquisitorial Squad.”  Your eyes burned with challenge, his pulse jumped.  “I don’t want to owe you.”

“It’s important that I’m on the Squad,” he shot back.  “Someone has to push back against those idiots causing terror.”

You shook your head.  He couldn’t blame you; even he couldn’t believe the bullshit he was spouting.  “You know that’s wrong.”

“It’s what Professor Umbridge wants,” he argued, chest aching as he knew his chances with you were slipping from his grasp.  “It’s what’s right for the school.”

“Sophronia,” you said, waiting for the recognition to pool in his eyes, a recognition that did not come.  “Not everything that’s encouraged is right.  You still have a lot to learn, Malfoy.”

You vanished up the stairs before he could say another word.

Parkinson was right; you were a bloody nightmare.

Next ⪼

[muyurei]

Cultural Relics Are Not To Be Messed With – Chapter 3

Chapter 3: How can this person be so childish!

“What happened?” The little man muttered.

“Something doesn’t feel quite right...” Before Qi Chen could even finish speaking, he was already being dragged by the little man to take a look at the commotion.

They stood amongst the crowd and tried to look in. A private car had been parked on the side of the road, and the owner seemed to have gotten off. He stood in front of the car, and it was evident that he felt rather exasperated, helplessly yelling at the middle-aged woman: “Do you just cross roads without looking at the traffic lights? Are the pedestrian lanes here painted for fun?! You really just went ahead and walked straight to the middle of the road, it was a good thing I reacted quickly without getting a heart attack, ah, otherwise you’d be hit in the head now! Is your luck bad or is my luck bad today? Can you really stand on your legs with no problem? Just a little wound? Good, good, I won’t be detained for this...”

“No... I didn’t mean to... I–... I don’t know how I got to the middle of the road.” The woman was obviously in shock as well, both of her hands clutching the strap of her shoulder bag, and her explanation almost sounded incoherent from how much she was stuttering.

The fabric of her tweed coat had been scraped, the lapels on the lower part of her knitwear around her legs were stained, and her socks that reached up to her knees were torn as well, but she was frozen, as though a wooden statue, not caring one bit about her appearance, continuously repeating those words over and over again.

A young woman helped support her, slowly leading her to the side of the road, and said: “Dajie, do you have a fellow family member’s phone number? Would you like to contact them so they can come and pick you up?”

(t/n: dajie = elder sister)

“My– my family? Yes, my family! I came here to eat, and I just planned to go down to this area to buy something, I had no intentions of crossing the road... I, I just felt a little nauseous, and then someone called by name, and then... then, it seemed like someone was pulling me along, and when I realized where I was, I– I’ve already been... I almost got hit, by then,” The woman was still frantically explaining.

Her face was pale and full of fear. After the young woman reminded her of her family, she hurriedly looked down and rummaged through her bag anxiously. Her hands were still shaking when she pulled out her phone, and because her hold wasn’t firm, the phone fell to the ground. Clack!

“Hey– you...” The owner of the car heard her explanation, and he looked at her with an odd expression, thinking that the woman was probably... not in her right mind. He picked up the phone and gave it to her, shaking his head. “I still have an urgent business to attend to. Are you sure your legs are okay? Then, I’ll go now. Don’t just stand here on the road, please call your family to come pick you up.” After saying that, he returned to his seat and drove away in his car.

As soon as the owner of the car left, a man, who they soon discovered was the woman’s husband, suddenly sprang through the scene in a hurry. He crossed the road, passed through the crowd, and went straight to the place where the woman was standing. He held her close as he took her bag, and he nodded to the young woman who had been assisting her. “We’re so sorry for the trouble... please, let me take care of this.”

“Eh?” The young woman looked a little surprised. “But we haven’t contacted anyone yet...”

“We were just eating in that restaurant, on the second floor.” The man turned around and pointed at the building across the road. “She told me that she would just go for a quick trip to the supermarket to buy something. After she left, I went to the bathroom for some time, and when I came out and saw that she hasn’t returned yet, I looked out of the window and saw all these people crowded around this area, so I went out in a hurry.”

The woman looked at her husband, who had just arrived, in a daze. Immediately, she grabbed the man’s sleeve and went into a fit, looking as though she was on the verge of crying as she told him in panic: “I, I did it again, what should I do? She, she called out to me again! It’s that voice! Really, I didn’t cross the road on my own accord! What should we do... what about Ah-Ming...”

(t/n: ah-, a prefix used as a term of endearment )

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine... let’s just go back and get a good amount of sleep. You must be tired after being occupied with the museum for the past two days.” The man comforted her with his words and then told the young woman: “Thank you. I’ll take care of her now.”

...

Qi Chen and the little man saw that there was no need for any more help from outsiders like them, so they turned back and went to find a place to eat.

“Eh, by the way...” When Qi Chen arrived at the food court, he suddenly remembered something, so he faced the little man and patted him, asking, “What did you say to me back then?”

Xiao Hei Pi asked with an innocent face: “What I said back then?”

(t/n: xiao hei pi: little black-skinned guy)

Qi Chen: “Just before the woman cried out, I mean. What were you about to ask me? I was distracted and I didn’t clearly hear it.”

Xiao Hei Pi glanced at Qi Chen and innocently replied: “The interruption was so sudden, I can’t remember what I asked anymore.”

Qi Chen: “...” Are you a goldfish?

In turn, what happened that noon was considered no more than a small incident. It soon dissipated into obscurity, and no one took it to heart.

Qi Chen thought that he was about to spend the rest of his afternoon being in the same room as that bad-tempered Executive Team Leader Long, but upon arriving at the office, he didn’t see him at all. His desk was still relatively empty, with the rebooted computer and the empty coffee cup being the only signs that showed any indications of the desk owner’s earlier presence.

Before he joined the company, the company had just finished working on a rather major project, and these past two days had been that project’s closing phase. Compared to the team members, the team leaders were much busier. Most of the time, aside from Qi Chen, there weren’t even that many people who stayed inside the office room.

“Long– Eh?” Logistics Team Leader Hong Ming stomped inside the room with her dozen-centimeter high heels. “Are you alone here, Xiao Chen? Shouldn’t Team Leader Long be back by now? Have you seen him?”

“Ming-jie,” Qi Chen greeted her. “When I came out to eat, I saw Team Leader Long come in the office with some coffee, but when I returned, I didn’t see anyone at all.”

“Well, what about you guys? Did you see where Team Leader Long headed to?” Hong Ming asked, turning her head and asking the other group members who were sitting outside.

One person said: “I saw him and Team Leader Hu go to Building B. They probably went to the supervision office.”

“He just returned and he’s already gone to the supervision room?” Hong Ming was surprised.  “Aiyou, so now he’s consuming his rat poison at noon? Just when did he become so disciplined!”

(t/n: aiyou = an interjection of surprise, usually like oh!)

Qi Chen: “...”

“Xiao Chen, are you busy?” Hong Ming patted on the stack of documents she had in her hand. “I still have to go somewhere, so would you mind helping me deliver something to Building B? Do you know where the supervision office is? It’s in the corridor past the second room to the west.”

Qi Chen’s innocent face asked: “West is... left or right?”

Hong Ming gave him a face that looked as though she had just been taken for granted. “Up is north, down is south, left is west, and right is east. West is obviously left.”

t/n: 

Qi Chen: “...” You’re making so much sense right now. 

“Ask Team Leader Long to sign these documents. You can just put them on my desk once he’s done.” Hong Ming explained, and after a few more words, she gave the documents to Qi Chen and then turned around to walk away, her high heels clicking on the floor and her long, curly hair almost hitting Qi Chen’s face.

After finishing the remaining tasks that he had on hand, Qi Chen took the small stack of documents and left the office.

The offices, meeting rooms, reception rooms, and such were all located in Guanghe Company’s Building A, whereas the archive rooms, supervision rooms, and everything involving the company’s internal affairs were located in Building B. The two buildings were connected by an indoor walkway located on their second floors.

As Qi Chen was walking along the corridor going to the other side, he looked down and casually flipped through the papers that had to be signed by Team Leader Long–

–Only to see that the first few sheets that had been stapled together were just normal A4 printing paper. The front page contained the company letterhead, and the bottom right corner of the paper had the company seal stamped on it. However, despite the text content in the last few pages being the same as that in the previous pages, the papers that were used here were slightly different. They were a light yellow color, almost slightly astringent to touch, and they were also thin and transparent.

To say that the text content in the last few pages and the first pages were the same would have to be an overstatement. It contained a seal that didn’t look like Guanghe Company’s at all; it was more like a seal you often found in totem patterns. It wasn’t an ordinary round seal – it was square, and the text on the paper had been written in Zhuan Ti. 

t/n:

He was about to try to understand what the characters that were written there meant when he heard the low voice of a man from in front of him. “What are you standing there for? Blocking the path, are you a crab?”

(t/n: you know how crabs walk sideways/horizontally? and because they walk/stand sideways they also block vertical paths)

The sound of that person’s voice was very elegant, but coupled with the speaker’s tone...

Haha.

Qi Chen didn’t have to look up to know who this person was, but how could this person walk so silently? Did he have paws for shoes? The boss is such an expert at pretending to be a ghost!

He flipped the documents back to their proper arrangement in his hands and handed it in front of the person who was supposed to receive them: “Team Leader Long, I was looking for you. These documents need your signature.”

Team Leader Long, who didn’t even look at the document, but glared only at Qi Chen who was carrying them: “No time for it!”

Qi Chen: “...” How can this person be so childish!

Seeing him look away with an expression that made him seem like he had no plans of taking the documents, Qi Chen said in a deadpanned voice: “Oh.” Without changing his tone, he said, “Ming-jie said that this contained all the subsidies declared in your name for your recent business trip. If you don’t sign it, you won’t be able to submit it. Ah, she also said that your suggestions had been included in it. Are you sure you don’t want to sign? Are you sure? Then, I’ll take it back and I’ll tell Ming-jie that–”

“Wait a minute!” Team Leader Long finally turned his head and snatched the pile of documents from Qi Chen, still glaring at him in the process. He turned around, took two steps away so he could place the documents against the wall to sign them. Feeling around for a pen and a stamp, he first planned to sign the last page at the end that had those ghost-like symbols, reading through them, and then roughly tapped on the seal at the second-to-the-last page of the documents.

Qi Chen respectfully reached out his hand, waiting for the documents to be signed to be returned to his hands, feeling very much like a small eunuch serving his lord.

Because of this, after Team Leader Long accepted the documents, he glanced at him twice and soon walked around him to go back to the office with the papers. He might as well have told him, ‘You kneel there and wait,’ it couldn’t have made a difference.

Qi Chen: “...”

Just yesterday, he felt that he and Team Leader Long wouldn’t bump too much into each other, being in different teams in the company, so there shouldn’t have been a situation where Qi Chen may provoke him. Thinking about it now, it really... these past few events... it really becomes more and more of wishful thinking than the truth...

Guanghe Company goes by the standard clock-in-at-nine (morning), clock-out-at-five (late afternoon) work schedule. According to Xiao Hei Pi, it was common to work overtime, and it was also not unusual for business trips to depart at night. No one was left to idle about in their work – once they were done, not a minute will be delayed spent getting off work.

When it was five o’clock, everyone in the office packed up their things, turned off their computers, and was ready to leave work.

Qi Chen wasn’t in a hurry, so he first sent his friend a quick WeChat message. He put on his coat, took the navy blue scarf he was wearing earlier in his hands, and walked out. The little man he ate with earlier walked next to him with his shoulder bag and invited him out for dinner.

“I already made plans with my roommate back in university. He accompanied me in two trips to help move my luggage and tidy up my dorm here at work, so I’ll be treating him to dinner today.” Qi Chen apologetically declined the little man’s invitation.

The other man nodded understandingly. “Oh, of course, of course, you can go ahead. I’ll head to the cafeteria to eat now, then.” After he said this, he then went on to the crowd of people on their way to the basement floor of the building.

Qi Chen thought at first that the workplace canteen must have an employee discount, so even if the food there was a monstrosity, many people would still go here to eat. However, Xiao Hei Pi, the little man, said that there weren’t any discounts at all, and the meals here were much pricier than those outside. Qi Chen doesn’t know why his colleagues still choose to eat in this cafeteria every day, and thought, maybe they’re all masochists?

Ceylon Square in the east of Jiayang District has opened a brand new self-service barbeque restaurant. Rumor has it that the meat and vegetables there were fresh, and the sauces were full of fragrance and flavor. Qi Chen and his college roommate, Xu Liang, decided to eat out here, since it was close to Xu Liang’s workplace, and was only one bus stop away from Guanghe Company.

Qi Chen didn’t have to wait for a while before Xu Liang arrived.

“It’s a good thing you got off work early today. I saw that everyone outside had started lining up for a table here.” Xu Liang said as he set his coat and scarf aside. He rolled up his sleeves, pouring himself some warm water, and wiped his cups and plates.

“You’re pretty early yourself, too. Why is that? That new batch in your museum’s all sorted out now?” Qi Chen had already ordered a few plates of meat, and after the waiter brought over the oil for the grill, he began to grill them piece by piece.

Xu Liang works at the museum across Ceylon Square, just around the corner, and was the only one in their dormitory aside from Qi Chen to stay in Jiangshi. The two of them had originally gotten along well with each other, so after this, they naturally got closer, texting on WeChat almost every day.

Qi Chen previously heard that a tomb had been dug up in a village called Baihe River, located on the western outskirts of Jiangshi, and a small batch of the objects buried with it was sent to the museum that Xu Liang worked at. The previous two days had been their finalization period for finishing the arrangement of these funerary relics in their exhibition area.

“En. It’s all done now, and the exhibition will open this week. A few of them were really beautiful. I took some photos when we were setting them up, I’ll send them to you later. I’ll just go pick out some sauce first, I’m starving to death.” Xu Liang said, and he got up to go to the sauce station.

The thin slices of meat that Qi Chen had been cooking were now ready to be eaten, sizzling on the grill. The aroma of the barbeque was enticing him to just eat in.

Qi Chen crinkled his nose, convincing himself that Xu Liang was Xu Liang, he was himself, and Xu Liang would understand, being friends Additionally, he thought that, with being friends, there was no need for politeness between them, so the sneaky Qi Chen stretched out his paws and moved his chopsticks to pick up the slices of meat. 

Xu Liang picked his sauces according to his preferences and took a few more dishes of meat and vegetables. When he returned to his seat, he saw Qi Chen sandwiching the meat slices coated with a thick layer of sauce in the crisp lettuce leaves, taking a big bite, and then looked at Xu Liang with his puffed cheeks and a face that said he was innocent.

The plate of meat slices on the table was empty, and a new batch of meat slices had already been placed again on the grill.

Xu Liang: “...”

Seeing him eat made Xu Liang’s stomach rumble even more... so he took out his phone, scrolled through his photo album, clicked on the latest photos he took, and then placed it in front of Qi Chen. “You glutton! Go look at the photos first, this batch of meat belongs to me!”

Since bright light can damage the relics, the lights in the museum were always very dim, and turning on your camera’s flash wasn’t allowed, so the photos that Xu Liang took weren’t very good. Although the main focus in the photos could obviously be identified as the relics in the display case, they weren’t very close to the camera, and the occasional staff members entering and exiting could also be seen in the background.

“Check out that bronze mirror, and that jade bracelet...” Xu Lian pointed out as he ate.

Qi Chen let out an “en,” his slender fingers sliding through the photos in the phone’s gallery. “Bracelet with gold and jade engraved on it? But I remember that these burial goods that were found weren’t from a distinguished nobleman... this craft style looks a lot like those relics made in the earlier times that were unearthed in Hejia Village– Eh?”

His sentence was interrupted when he slid to the next photo, and he froze the moment he saw what was in it. “This woman works in your museum?”

“Which one?” Xu Liang looked at the phone handed over by Qi Chen with a puzzled expression. Qi Chen pointed at the woman in an elegant red knitted outfit behind the relics display case.

“Ah–you mean Qin-jie? She’s from one of our office branches. Why? Do you know her?”

Qi Chen shook his head. “Not really. At noon today, around lunchtime, I happened to see her on the roadside. She was almost hit by a car while standing in the middle of the road and got a bit scratched in the process, but she kept saying that she had no idea how she ended up there. She felt like... she’s not in the healthiest state of mind right now, and was later picked up by her husband.”

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(As of 04/16/21: Somewhat(?) edited.)