#you’re the first non-animal i’ve ever tasted / i let you kill me

[nicollekidman]

one thing about lyra…. she’s gonna see if he can really kill her and when he does? it Seals The Deal (and resurrects her in more ways than one)

[bokettochild]

For the fluff prompt thing, how about Time and Hyrule? Maybe something with fairies? Thanks!

I did some Fairy Hyrule for you, Anon!

Sorry I didn't get this done sooner, I've been busier than I expected since I opened up asks. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

Time is safe.

When first he’d met all the other heroes, Hyrule had felt wary and uncertain. After all, it’s only in the castle and Mama’s cave that he’s ever known safety, and strangers are nearly always bad news if they’re being friendly with him.

And these strangers were very friendly.

Most of them had greeted him with smiles when he’d been dropped into their camp, their explanation being that a goddess of some kind wanted him to help them with something. Hyrule had never heard much about any goddesses, although he’d seen a statue or two in his travels, but most of the other people here seemed to know what was up, and they were only too eager to tell him.

And by too eager, he meant too eager. They were entirely too friendly with a stranger, and only two of them seemed interested in giving him his space: the one with the pink stripe in his hair and the one with lots of armor. He learns their names first: Legend and Time.

Legend is just as wary of him as he is of Legend, but Time... Time stares after him blankly, unreadable. Even so, the exotic taste of curiosity rolls across his tongue as a single royal blue orb stares at him, heavy and yet weightless.

Time is warm. Warm in a way that Hylians don’t know, that only the forest people and animals know. He is Safe, he is Comfort, and he is Known. Hyrule doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what makes the older hero so, but he finds that he is drawn to the man’s side, that he leeches comfort from him.

“Again?” The vet’s violet gaze is flat, but Time can see the warmth in it regardless.

During the night, Hyrule has become wrapped around Time as tightly as a limpet, and as the Vet stands over the two of them, looking down at where Time attempts to free himself from Hyrule’s grasp, he chuckles softly.

“Kid has an iron grip.” Time offers apologetically as he falls back on his bedroll, Hyrule’s sleeping form still clinging to him. “Sorry, legend, I don’t think I can take over watch as planned.”

The vet smirks. “Yeah, no. Rest, Old Man, he’s not letting you go until morning when he turns fairy pink when he wakes up.”

And Legend’s right, when Hyrule wakes up the next morning that is exactly what he does when Warriors starts teasing him, and while Time reassures the youngster that he doesn’t mind all that much, Hyrule looks utterly mortified.

“I don’t do that, not normally. It’s not safe to sleep close to other people.” The traveler whispers to legend on the road that day.

His mentor glances over at him knowingly. “Only people you don’t trust. Hasn’t Time earned your trust yet?”

“Has he earned yours?” Bushy brows pull together as Hyrule looks down at his friend.

Legend snorts a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets absently. “Of course not, but I don’t really trust most folks, not about myself anyways. But you? You’re my successor, and if there’s one person I’d trust to look out for you if I couldn’t, it’d be the guy in a giant suit of armor who wields a sword that’s bigger than me. Least ways, he’s the least likely to get you killed.”

And Hyrule Knows, knows with a capitol ‘k’, that that means one thing in short: Legend trusts Time and Hyrule both, and he trusts both of them to take care of each other. That’s all he needs. Legend isn’t called the vet for nothing after all, and from what the two of them have seen, their worlds are the worst off and most dangerous, so if they both agree that Time is someone to be trusted, then he’s safe.

A whispering voice in his mind tells him he knew that already.

He’s woken up clinging to Time so many times in the morning, even if he wasn’t anywhere near the man when he fell asleep, that he’s given up trying to avoid it. Time seems to appreciate the warmth and contact as much as he does anyways, and the man always looks lighter in the mornings.

Hyrule wishes he was there now, curled up under Time’s arm and resting his head against the older man’s chest, breath coming deep and soft as sleep slowly seeps its way across his body. He wishes he was back in camp, holding on tight to someone and leaching heat off of them with a contented sigh. He wishes he could free his wings and rest against Time’s side while drinking sugar water and listening to the melodic hum of Time’s voice.

But he isn’t there. He isn’t with Time or the others. He’s stranded in Legend’s Hyrule, hiding out in the entrance to a dungeon with Four curled close to his side, the both of the shaking in the cold and wet as rain seeps down through the dungeon door to puddle at their feet.

It’s cold, and wet, and dark.

But at least the monsters can’t find them.

It’d been the work of mere minutes to defeat all the monsters in the room, and while they have a key and tool to pass on through the dungeon, that’s not their intent; the two small heroes just want a place out of sight and out of the rain while they figure out what to do.

Four sneezes.

“Did any of the others mention a camping spot?” Hyrule muses aloud, leaning back against the cold stone walls that line the room and trying to ignore the running of his own nose, or the puffiness of his face.

“Kakariko.” Four sniffles, rubbing his face and arms and fingers in an effort to warm up. “They said it was a couple hours yet though.”

Great. They’d fallen to the back of the group when Four had seen two minish trying to help one of their wounded friends over to a burrow. Naturally, Four had offered them help, and Hyrule had trailed along so Four wouldn’t be alone.

The minish village was only a quick dart away from the path, but by the time they had got back, they had found that the others had moved on and a couple ‘blins stood on the path instead. It took a bit of effort to kill the monsters, but once they were done and continued along the path, one thing after another had gone wrong, and they’d been left here; cold, alone, and with no way to hunt down the others in the sopping wet of the storm outside.

Four sneezed again.

“We need to find them.” Hyrule whispers softly, even though in the big room he knows that Four will hear it too. He doesn’t care. He’s cold and tired and his feet hurt from being cold and standing on stone floors for so long, and he really wants to be warm and safe again.

“We can’t.” Four sniffles softly, brows drawn in irritation as he wipes his nose for the nth time. “They didn’t leave a trail we can follow, and besides, they’re probably already looking for us, it’s been a few hours.”

“How will they find us if we’re in here though?”

“We churned up actual mountains of dirt to get in here when that Like-Like chased us down, they’ll notice.”

A smile flits across his face, even in their predicament, he can’t resist a light jab at his brother. “Were they actually mountains though? Or did they just look like it?”

Bright blue shimmers up at him. “I will come for your ankles if you say that again.”

Hyrule’s grin grows, and he’s about to respond, about to tell Four that of course it’s his ankles, the shorter hero can’t reach anything else, but then something brushes his senses. Something Safe, and Warm and Known.

“Time.”

“We haven’t even started fighting yet.” Four cocks a brow.

“No, Time’s coming.” Hyrule’s feet carry him to the door, steps light and head cocked on one side as if he was listening.

He’s not sure how he knows, how he feels it, but he does. Time is close, he’s getting closer every minute and-

Hyrule throws the door open and rockets into the warmth and safety that is Time’s arms, sighing in contentment as something within purrs happily at the closeness of the older man. Time is Safe. Time is Warm and Time is Known.

Warriors’ Hyrule is big.

The towns are bigger than anything Hyrule’s ever seen, even Hyrule Castle itself, and don’t get him started on the cities!

Hyrule felt very small standing in the market of Castletown.

People bustled to and fro, baskets on their arms, carts at hand, children and animals trailing behind and dust dirt and NOISE following them. It was really getting to be too much, and Hyrule was going to wear out the hem of his tunic in no time with the way he was rubbing at it.

Wars led the way through the town confidently, stopping to greet people and make exchanges as the rest of them followed after. Hyrule really wished Wars had agreed to take the non-suffocating and anxiety triggering path to Hyrule Castle, but he hadn’t said as much and Wars had already said they needed supplies.

It would be fine; he could hold out a bit longer. He couldn’t.

The others followed Warriors’ lead, Sky keeping holf of Legend and Four both while Wind kept close to Wild. It was important they didn’t let the smaller members of their party be caught up in the crowd, but some of them looked torn between hating being watched like kids, and taking comfort in the security of it all.

Oh man, Hyrule would love nothing more than to switch places with them. Sky was always warm and safe, even if he was mighty trusting, and Twilight’s big hands always enveloped everyone else's so that they felt secure in knowing they wouldn’t be pulled away.

Delicate fingers unconsciously reached out and caught hold of the hand beside them.

Time started at the contact, gaze traveling quickly down to where Hyrule’s small hand had caught hold of his own, broken nails and calloused finger pads clutching tightly against his own weathered skin. The traveler hung close, tucked in on himself and shying away for contact with strangers.

The image of a small boy dressed in green trying to weave through a bustling town, his fairy hidden in his hat so she wouldn’t be lost as he was jostled and knocked into by strangers and possible enemies and people who stared and watched and bumped.

Time clasped the hand in his a bit firmer, watching with satisfaction as Hyrule’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Warm. Safe. Known.

Time gasped awake, eyes flying wide open as harsh breaths surged through his lungs to catch in his throat and make him gasp for air. He didn’t know at what point he’d sat up, didn’t know when he’d turned his gaze over to survey their camp, blue eyes trailing over sleeping forms and mind frantically counting the young heroes around him.

Wind curled up on top of Wars.

Two.

Four nestled between Twilight and Wild (a good place, they both slept hot).

Five.

Hyrule curled up next to Legend’s empty bedroll, Sky just a few feet away, lost in the folds of his sail-cloth.

Seven.

Legend, sitting with his back to the flames as he watched Time, sword bare across his equally bare knees.

Eight.

“You okay, old man?” The vet raised one brow, expression almost judgemental if you didn’t know him, eyes lidded and scowl set.

Time didn’t answer. Shivers wracked his frame, cloudiness refusing to leave his mind as his thoughts and emotions swirled within.

Safe. Home. Safe. Home.

He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be home. He wanted to blink awake in his own treehouse with Navi scolding him for sleeping in, and then run down to the fields to play with Malon and Epona.

He wanted Navi to pinch his ear and tell him that he should have known better than to sleep without a blanket.

He wants Navi to curls up in his hair and Sing.

Time doesn’t process what he’s doing, but Legend watches in surprise as the man grips ahold of his blanket and softly creeps over to the others. Legend’s empty bedroll is as cold and firm as a rock, but Time doesn’t seem to even notice that it’s there, curling up around Hyrule with a sigh that says he’s not entirely awake.

Soft lights shimmer over the pair as Time drifts off again, the creases of his brow smoothing as the warm and constant buzz of Hyrule’s soft snores washes over him.

Legend sighs, stretching his legs and looking up at the sky.

He’ll just sleep on Time’s bedroll tonight he supposes.

[nsfwflint]

Reconnecting

My loyal followers, I have returned! Thank you all so much for being so patient. To celebrate my return I have done a piece a lot of you have been waiting for. There is a plan for a part two, but that’s for another time. I know it’s been a long time, but I hope you all enjoy it!

You curse your lack of directional awareness. It’s been three years since you moved here, but somehow you still manage to get lost. Mostly because of your tendency to zone out as you walk. While it is annoying at times, it always lets you discover new things throughout the city. Hell, it’s what helped you find quite a few of your favorite restaurants. So, while you can always use your phone’s GPS, you try to give yourself time to explore whenever you get lost. Crossing through an alley, you see a doorway that catches your eye. Seemingly hidden away, the only indication that it’s a restaurant of some sort is the small sign that says “open” hanging on a wall near the door.

 As you step inside, you’re shocked at the atmosphere. Soft jazz fills the room, just loud enough to register, but quiet enough that it doesn’t overpower anything. A few patrons are spread throughout the room, quietly talking among themselves at their tables. The dim lighting illuminates the wooden interior. Despite everything looking slightly dated, it still gives the feeling of being a high-class establishment. It reminds you of the small classy bars you see sometimes in dramas. Approaching the dark wood counter, the first thing you notice is the bartender.

Your steps slow as you can’t help but be amazed at her beauty. Her short black hair tied in the back makes her cute ears stick out. A long strand of hair frames her beautiful face. Her soft features are a mix of sweet and sultry. Judging from the confident look in her eyes, you figure she knows how to use both to her advantage. The uniform she’s wearing is a classy white top with a black apron that is just tight enough to tease her incredible rack. It’s harder to see, but the reflection in the mirror behind the bar shows that her black skirt hugs her ass the same way. As you sit at the bar, she gives you a friendly smile.

 “Never seen you around here before.” She notes in a warm tone.

 “Yeah, I got lost and found this place by chance.” You say as you rub the back of your neck, nervous from how beautiful she is.

 “I see. Well what can I get for you tonight?”

 While you desperately want to say “your company”, you settle on a drink instead.

 “I’ll take a beer please. Whatever you have, I’m not too picky.”

 “No problem, just need to see your ID real quick.” She smiles.

 “Sure thing, here you go.”

 Upon seeing your ID card, she perks up for some reason.

 “Oppa! It’s been so long!” She exclaims excitedly.

 You flinch slightly, surprised by the sudden outburst.

 “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You ask.

 “You don’t remember me? It’s me, Kang Mina. We used to play together all the time as kids in the old neighborhood! I can’t believe you don’t remember me.” Mina pouts.

 Suddenly, memories you haven’t thought about in years rush back. Scenes of playing with an adorable younger girl flash in your mind. She was a few years younger than your group of friends, but that never stopped her from tagging along on all your childhood adventures. The same cute ears that she used to be embarrassed by and the same adorable smile. There is no doubt that it’s the same person that stands before you now. While the person in the memories is young and still a child, the one in front of you is very much a woman. Staring at the beautiful woman before you, it’s hard to believe the transformation that’s taken place.

 “Wow, is that really you, Mina? You’ve grown so much.” You say in surprise, looking her up and down.

 Mina blushes as she brushes her hair behind her ear.

 “Yeah. It’s been so long. I’m glad that you remember me now though. Hey, my shift is over in an hour or so. Stick around so we can catch up!” She smiles happily.

 “Definitely, I’d love that.”

 Grabbing a small table in the corner, you play on your phone to kill time. You still talk to a couple of the other kids from those days. As you type out a message telling them what’s going on, Mina stops by and drops off another beer. She gives you a smile before walking away and you can’t help but admire how beautiful she’s become. Staring at her curvaceous body, you delete the message you have typed out. It might be selfish, but for the moment you don’t want to share this time together with anyone else.

 Slowly the few customers that are left trickle out of the bar. A little while later, Mina flips the sign on the door to “Closed” and gives you a wink as she takes off her apron. After grabbing two beers from behind the bar, she sets them on the table and sits across from you. The two of you spend several hours and multiple beers catching up. You guys talk about family and work, the usual suspects. At one point it finally turns into reminiscing about old memories.

 “Man, we did a lot of crazy stuff back then.” You say as your laughter settles down.

 “Yeah. It’s a miracle none of us ever got injured.” She nods.

 “Thinking back, I can’t believe you were able to keep up with us. Or that you even wanted to. Didn’t you have friends closer to your own age?”

 “I had friends my own age, but hanging out with you guys was just more fun.” Mina shrugs.

 “I see. Well I was a little sad when you moved away back then.”

 Mina takes another swig of her beer before looking into your eyes.

 “What did you think of me back then, oppa?”

 “You were brave that’s for sure. You were always right there with us, regardless of what we were doing. You were fun to have around. I thought of you like the little sister I never had.” You nod nostalgically.

 “But what did you think of me?” She repeats.

 “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 “Even back then, I’ve always thought of you as a man, oppa,” Mina leans over the table, her sizeable breasts resting on her arms.

 “You were always so kind and strong. How could I not fall in love with you? I tried looking you up through the years, but I could never find you.” She continues as she leans over the table even more.

 “I uh…”

 “Well what about now oppa? How do you see me now?” She stands up, placing her hands on the table as she leans in closer to you.

 “You’re clearly drunk Mina. You shouldn’t really say things like that. People might misunderstand.” You feel your face grow hot as you chuckle nervously.

 “But oppa. I’ve been giving us non-alcoholic beers all night.” Mina says, slowly leaning right in front of your lips.

 Your body warms all the way to your toes as she presses her lips against yours. Expecting a gentle kiss from that kind of confession, you’re surprised as Mina’s tongue pries its way into your mouth. The sweet taste of her tongue sliding past your lips, she slowly swirls it around your own. With an odd tempo that’s a mixture of loving passion and animal lust, her tongue continues to entwine with yours. Saliva trickles onto your chin as her tongue massages yours. Mina slips her tongue out of your mouth before lightly biting your lower lip. She sucks on your lip as she gently pulls it. Releasing your lip and pulling back from the kiss, Mina stares into your eyes with a seductive gaze. Your mind goes blank as you can feel her stare into your soul.

 “Uh.” You hesitate, trying to find anything to say.

 Mina giggles as she gives you a devilish smile.

 “Well, oppa. How do you think of me now?” She asks coyly.

 “I’ll be right back, I need a minute.” Those are the only words that escape your mouth as you retreat into the bathroom.

  You walk to the sink and splash water on your face. Your thoughts race as you stare in the mirror; frustration builds in you. What on earth are you doing? A gorgeous woman just makes a move on you and you panic and run away? As you beat yourself up, the door opens suddenly and before you can react Mina pushes you onto the toilet and sits on your lap.

 “Mina?! Wh-what are you doing in here?” You sputter, flustered by her sudden appearance.

 “I knew you were shocked, and I wanted to let you know that it’s okay. A confession like that puts a lot of pressure on a person. I’m sorry. But if it’s okay with you, I just need you so bad tonight oppa.” She whines as she softly kisses your lips.

 Staring into her eyes, you can tell how much courage it took Mina to confess to you. With all the memories flashing back to you, it’s not like you can say you don’t feel anything for her. Looking at the beautiful woman before you, you realize that you need her just as bad.

 “We can figure out what we are later, but tonight, let’s just enjoy each other.” You nod in agreement.

 Mina smiles with an emotional twinkle in her eyes as she hugs you. She gives your cheek a tender kiss before whispering in your ear.

 “Thank you oppa.”

 Pulling back from the hug, her fingers slowly start unbuttoning her top.

 “Wait you want to do it here? Shouldn’t we go back to your place or something?” You ask, surprised at her eagerness.

 “Absolutely not. The sound proofing at my apartment complex is terrible. Sejeong and Nayoung unnie had their boyfriends move in recently and all you can hear at night is them having sex. Besides, that’s too far.” Mina whines.

 You open your mouth to reply but right as you go to speak, Mina’s fingers undo the final button on her shirt. Her shirt slowly spreads open and reveals her incredible body. A tight and toned tummy that leads to a large and full chest. The only thing keeping you from paradise is a black lace bra that is somehow managing to contain her sizable tits. Upon seeing your face Mina smirks, knowing she’s got you right where she wants you. She gives you a seductive smile and slowly slides the top off of her shoulders.

 “Do you like them oppa? Go on, touch them.” She grins.

 Mina grabs your hands and pulls them up to her chest. Holding your hands, she squirms slightly as your fingers cup the soft fabric that barely contains her tits. With another smirk, she reaches behind and unclasps her bra. She slowly slides her bra out from between your hands and her chest and your fingers sink into the soft flesh of her breasts. Mina releases a soft moan as you gently rub your thumbs across her nipples. As you fondle and squeeze her tits, you feel her soft nipples stiffen against your fingers. You lick your lips as your fingers press into her soft skin, massaging and squeezing everything you can.

 “You can taste them if you want. I know you want to.” Mina whispers.

 Not needing any more permission, you immediately dive into her chest. You quickly latch onto her breast, your lips softly sucking on her nipple. The sweet taste of her nipple fills your mouth as your tongue swirls around it. Squirming as you slurp on her nipple, Mina starts grinding on your cock. Your pants tighten around your growing erection. She runs her fingers through your hair as you gently bite her nipple. A soft whimper escapes her lips while you continue devouring her tits. Her squirming against your crotch becomes more energetic. Biting and pulling on her nipple, your fingers squeeze her chest roughly. Her moans gradually gain volume as you messily suck and slurp on her nipple.

 “That’s it baby, just like that. Do you like how mommy tastes?” Mina gasps, struggling to catch her breath between moans.

 Almost any other situation and you would have paused at the sudden question. Or at the very least questioned the drastic tone shift. But right now, you’re so obsessed with the taste of the erotic woman in front of you that you don’t care what you have to say. As long as you can indulge in your lust, you’ll do whatever it takes.

 “Yes mommy I do.” You groan with her nipple still in your mouth.

 “Good. Now it’s time for you to make mommy feel even better.”

 Mina smirks as her hand reaches down, unzipping your pants. Her tender fingers grip your shaft as she slowly pulls your dick out of your pants. You release her plump breast from your mouth as you groan from her soft touch. She pauses briefly to hike her skirt up, revealing her delicious thighs and a pair of lace black panties. Using your tip, she slides her underwear to one side and brushes her pussy against you. The wet entrance of her body slickens the tip of your dick as she rubs against it. Just when you think you’re in for a night of teasing, Mina proves to be unpredictable. She aggressively slams herself onto your cock, taking you inside all the way to the hilt. A pleasured gasp fills the air as your tip hits her depths.

 “Fuck!” She moans as she tries to brace herself on your dick.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I just didn’t think you would be so big.”

 You blush slightly, but before you can respond, Mina starts grinding on your dick. Her velvety cunt clamps around your shaft as she squirms against you. The moist walls of her pussy violently constrict you as she slowly adjusts herself to your cock. While you desperately want to just lose yourself in pleasure and ravage her, you give her time to get used to it. Her grinding slows to a stop as she grows accustomed to your size. Gradually, her breathing steadies again as she rests her hands on your shoulders. Mina gives you a thankful smile and looks into your eyes.

 “Sorry about the wait. Mommy just needed a bit.”

 “I understand.” You nod.

 “Good. I’m ready now though. Go ahead and fuck mommy as hard as you can.” She whispers seductively.

 Eager to please, you immediately start thrusting upwards. Your tip mercilessly slams against the ceiling of her cunt as you pierce into her. Frantic moans echo off the walls as Mina throws her head back. Her giant tits bounce rapidly as your aggressive thrusts ripple through her body. Your hands slide down her back before resting on her ass. You bunch up her skirt in your hands, pushing it farther up her body. As you pound away inside her, your hands move back down and roughly fondle her ass. While your attention earlier was placed on her magnificent breasts, feeling her ass in your hands you know that it is just as amazing.

 The sounds of your flesh crashing against each other registers in your brain, only to be drowned out by Mina’s needy moans. Craving even more of your cock, she starts slamming herself onto you. Her soft ass ripples across your fingers with every bounce. Your dick pistons inside her, relentlessly slamming against her depths. Mina’s cunt hungrily clings to your cock, tightly gripping your shaft. Your breathing grows ragged from your mindless pounding. As your dick rams against her deepest parts, her hot walls tug on your tip. Your eyes are drawn back to her giant tits as they bounce wildly from each thrust.

 “Shit. You’re so good.” Mina moans, digging her nails into your shoulders.

 “Does mommy feel good?” You ask playfully.

 “Yes. Mommy feels fantastic.”

 “Good. Now I need to make you feel even better.” You say, your hands traveling back to her breasts.

 “You’re already making mommy feel so good baby.” She gasps.

 You aggressively fondle her tits, her soft skin melting in your hands. Roughly massaging and kneading her chest, your fingers rub and squeeze everything they can. As you play with her tits her tight cunt constricts your shaft. Despite your best efforts, your palms can’t handle their size. Mounds of soft flesh pour through your fingers as you squeeze them forcefully. Pushing them together, you watch her breasts bounce as you slam into her. You pinch her nipples, pulling on the soft nubs. A smug smile spreads across Mina’s face.

 “Do you like mommy’s tits?” She teases.

 “I love them, mommy’s tits are so amazing.”

 “Suck on them again. I know you love how mommy tastes.” She moans.

 You obey the greatest command you’ve ever been given, immediately taking her nipples into your mouth again. Your tongue rapidly swirls around her nipple, aggressively massaging it. Her tits jiggle delightfully in your mouth as your cock pounds against the deepest part of her cunt. Gently biting her nipple, you pull on it as your hand pinches her other one. Vigorously squeezing her breasts, you noisily slurp on them. The sweet taste of her flesh covers your tongue as you lick and suck everything you can.

 Mina’s cunt draws your dick in as you devour her tits. Her moans get even louder as you piston inside her. As you suck on her nipples, she grabs the back of your head. You rapidly circle your tongue around her nipples. Aggressively pulling and nibbling on her breasts, her velvety walls vigorously massage your cock. You realize how much Mina loves you sucking on her breasts as she pushes your face into her pillowy tits. Feeling them ripple and jiggle against your face brings you close to the edge.

 “Yes, yes, yes, yes. Just like this baby. Mommy is almost there. Fuck me just like this.” She screams.

 You have no intention of stopping what you’re doing. The overpowering sensation of her tight pussy and the taste of her sweet nipples is too intoxicating to ever stop. Mina’s moans are so loud that you’re partially worried that someone outside might hear her. But you’re also far too busy losing yourself in her body. The tight pressure of her cunt is driving you to your breaking point. You squeeze her breasts as hard as you can, messily slurping on them. Feeling yourself get close to the end, you violently thrust with as much strength as you can. Knowing you are approaching your final strokes, you look up at Mina’s face to see her expression.

 Seeing Mina’s face contorted in pleasure awakens something in you. The warm walls of her cunt grip your dick, frantically trying to achieve ecstasy. With every thrust, your insatiable hunger for her body grows stronger. While this might have started as a loving confession, it’s devolved into an animalistic lust. Your thrusts become wild and frenzied; furiously racing to orgasm. Your body craves the instant sensation; the release it will bring to slake your thirst.

 “Fuck yes! That’s it baby, just like this. Make mommy cum.” She screams.

 As you both hit the peak of ecstasy, your cock twitches against the ceiling of Mina’s cunt. Both of you know you’re about to cum, but neither of you say anything. You’re not asking where to cum, and she’s not telling you. Staring into her lust-filled eyes, an unspoken agreement forms between you. Releasing a primal grunt, your cock erupts inside her with one final slam. Mina unleashes an ear-shattering moan as your cum floods inside her, surging into her depths. Her body shudders as she tightens around you, forcing as much cum out of you as she can. You look down to see that you released so much that Mina’s pussy is overflowing, a stream of your cum slowly oozing around your shaft. She collapses against your body in an exhausted hug.

 “Fuck. That was so amazing baby.” Mina moans, slowly winding down from her orgasm.

 “That was incredible.” You agree.

 “Did you like fucking mommy like that?” She giggles playfully as she kisses your cheek.

 “I did.”

“Good. Cause now we’re going back to my apartment. We’re going to give those unnies a taste of their own medicine. See how much they like hearing loud sex in the middle of the night.” Mina says.

 As she slowly stands up, your dick slips out from her pussy. A small stream of cum slowly drips out of her vagina. Mina gives you a smile as she puts her shirt back on.

 “You came so much inside me. I guess you really loved fucking mommy huh?” She teases.

 “I really did.” You say, putting your dick back into your boxers.

 “Then let’s hurry up and get out of here so we can do it again.”

 Mina grabs your hand, quickly dragging you out of the bar. As you exit the building, she takes out her phone and arranges for a taxi. Turning back to you, she gives you a mischievous smile as she steps close to you. Leaning in, she reaches up and gently cups your face as she softly presses her lips against yours. Her tongue slips inside your mouth once again, aggressively swirling around your tongue. As she continues entwining her tongue with yours, she presses her body against you. Her soft tits push against your chest as your dick starts to harden. The taxi quietly drives up and Mina slowly pulls away from the kiss.

 “Let’s go. We have the rest of the night ahead of us.” Mina says, giving you a gentle kiss before opening the car door.

 You admire her body as she dips inside the car. Not wasting any time, you eagerly follow her into the taxi. As you slam the door behind you, she immediately pulls you into another kiss. Your cock twitches in your pants. A whole night with Mina is waiting for you, and you can’t wait to indulge in every second.

[redstaratmorning]

Headcanons and Musings of Pirate-y And Plunderous Proportions: Astarion Says What

Synopsis: Random musings and ramblings regarding and spawning from the differences between how Astarion says just one word, depending on your choices—“What?” This got very long and touches not only on Astarion’s difference in presentation in aforementioned moment, but also some discussion-thoughts to chuck onto the dashboard regarding some other elements of Astarion’s content thus far in Early Access, and some thoughts to add onto others’ speculations and wonderings (I did not save sources so pardon the lack of proper citation, oops. We’re going informal here anyway.) Spoilers for Chapter 1 BG3 scenes, plot, etc, under the cut in case someone hasn’t filtered out the tags. Trigger warning/content warning: some discussion of heavy topics is mentioned and explored, including starvation, abuse/torture, and trauma. Other topics of note for summarization include speculation on Astarion’s largely unknown as-of-early-access background and a touch of his possible pre-vampire morality leanings, possible mental state/trauma reaction in a couple of scenes, and vague speculation on Larian’s gameplan for Astarion’s arc ending. Gather thy party and venture forward, for here be dragons and lots o’ text, matey! [/stereotypical pirate accent]

“What?” Just that one word, between the goblin party and the tiefling party. If Larian keeps the body language and tone presentation more or less where it’s at now in Early Access, they are worlds apart and delightfully up for interpretation of just what’s going on in our favorite vampire spawn’s head. This won’t be an in-depth post about all the tonal and body language differences, just picking out a few due to personal constraints (ie too broke to buy this game currently.) Edit: And also a lot of other thoughts and ramblings tacked on, lol. On the one hand we have him at the goblin party, where he seems much more superficially comfortable there, knows what’s going on and knows what to expect—it feels like he’s done this kind of scene a hundred times before. The comfort of familiarity. Did Cazador throw “parties”, much like how he “invited” Astarion to dine with him? I wouldn’t be surprised if he mingled at regular dinner parties either before his turning, or perhaps after when he’s ordered to hunt for Cazador’s evening repast. I doubt the goblin party has anything as potentially horrific as what Cazador would have lined up on the nightly basis, which is why Astarion isn’t aggro’d: he’s in a position of power at this party after all, not a powerless one. A conquering hero, as he describes the MC. A Precarious position, as it turns out.

Circling back to that one word though, the way he says “what” in that scene after he propositions the MC and the MC picks the “Maybe. If you say please” line feels like Astarion’s response could be interpreted as pretty abrupt. On guard, perhaps, squaring up, offended, even perhaps lowkey challenging/hostile. Expressing social displeasure and possibly staring down the MC mayhaps? Could be, especially if Astarion’s body language remains as it is rigged now in-scene with that step forward, his shoulders shifting, the lack of a smile, that assessing glare, all combined with that flat tone of voice. The animation could just be temporary and subject to change, but if it does end up as more or less the final version of that moment’s depiction, it’s pretty interesting as a shift. I’d read it as potentially “not actually truly comfortable in this situation, just familiar and numb to it all”, especially when combined with some of his other earlier potential lines at the goblin party, such as the following: Astarion: So, what are we drinking to? Other than a pile of corpses. MC: That’s not funny. Astarion: Oh don’t be so sour - It’s a party. You did what you had to. Don’t be ashamed that you did it well. MC: I wish things had turned out differently. Astarion: And I wish I was drinking out of the skulls of everyone who’s ever wronged me. Life is tough. Although that’s not to say we can’t have a little fun. This supports the whole “has been through his personal hell and has adapted to survive it albeit not unscathed” story Larian seems to be going for with him quite nicely in the little tells and details. A sort of “take what joy you can even amidst the dark situation surrounding us” trauma-induced adaptation, coupled together with actual enjoyment on his part for killing. It’d be easy to say Astarion is moreso in his element at the goblin party, and to a degree he is—it’s one he is well practiced with in his current mindset. Compare now how he acts at the tiefling party—we can all agree he’s not having a good time, our friendly neighborhood vampire sulking in particular over the fact that “there’s a worm in [his] brain, [he’s] surrounded by idiots, and all [he] has to drink is wine that tastes like vinegar.” But the delightful thing is he’s complaining so vividly about it. The wine likely is worse at the tiefling party, seeing as they’re refugees, and the goblins had previously captured a duke whom they likely stole loot from and under orders from Minthara et al stored said goods elsewhere for a later date (likely some of said goods were consumed at the party if it happened. Edit: Shadowheart’s drunk dialogue at the goblin party mentions the goblin’s wine there being good, poor dear. Fascinating hints at her story and character in that scene though.) This is assuming Astarion is drinking wine at the goblin party, of course. He may very well be drinking something red and full-bodied there, just not made from grapes. But even in his complaints and presentation, he seems arguably more relaxed and less on guard compared to his demeanor at the goblin party. Let’s be honest, he doesn’t view goblins as equals or stimulating company judging by his various voice lines expressing his disdain, distrust and overall low opinion of them as vermin among other things. The fact that he’s willing to call the tiefling refugees idiots while in earshot of them? Definitely doesn’t respect them as a group—though he has a less negatively opined line regarding them earlier on if the caged goblin (Sazza) is killed,—which is not surprising given that MC and company at the time of the party just saved them from certain death. Astarion’s reaction however also reads as potentially at ease enough to say what he’s thinking. He’s not going to get murdered for saying so, and there aren’t any punishing power games at play with the refugees and do-gooders he’s found himself surrounded by. There aren’t any hedonistic shenanigans going on and the drinks are terrible, so it’s not an entertaining party for him, but one could make an argument that Astarion might actually be feeling more secure or at least less threatened-as-is/was-his-accepted-ongoing-norm there. Which might mean he’s feeling quite out of place, or even just not...entirely engaged with what’s going on around him and even within him as far as emotional states go. Would he casually pull the same stunt at the goblin party? If you’re a bastard to him, yes, but that’s not in the same emotional vein as his dialogue during the tiefling party at all. Loyalty from the goblins is fickle, the goblins worship the Absolute and those that are chosen by the Absolute—so long as said Chosen remain powerful enough to subjugate them and is in favor. Astarion knows this kind of power structure well: ruling by fear and power. With the tieflings? It’s not superiors-and-subordinates, it’s just...people. People celebrating surviving an event that could’ve very well and most likely would’ve ended in their deaths. Will he get to celebrate like that one day? That could very well be a painful and bleak thing to consider, and not something he wants to contemplate as of yet, based on his dialogue lines that demonstrate his fear of Cazador. How’s he supposed to get lost in the fun and revelry if the wine doesn’t even taste good to him? I don’t know wines, but I’m guessing from what little I do know and what I’ve read of flavor descriptors for wines hyped as good, it might actually be bad wine based on the adjective “sharp” when mixed with the rest of the description if the MC takes a sip. Sharp seems to suggest too many tannins, or maybe improper storage so the wine actually did turn to taste a bit more like vinegar, or maybe not enough sugar in the grapes used, perhaps? To be fair, I do believe there’s a non-conversation line somewhere of Astarion’s regarding solid food tasting terrible to him, but I can’t verify that so a pinch of salt there. Still, if his taste buds are aligned with regular living mortal ones for wine at least, RIP Astarion, he’s stuck with a terrible drink for the foreseeable night. Unless, of course, you know. ;D Compared to the tieflings, the goblins as a whole? As a group they’re a scraped together army of pillagers hungry for destruction and spoils. They don’t have ANY loyalty to you—in addition to being willing to betray you via murder immediately despite working with them when Sazza first brings you back to meet Minthara, there’s also when Minthara potentially opts to try to kill you post-goblin-party. If you persuade her not to, Minthara does mention “do not return to the goblin camp, as far as they were concerned you were destined to die tonight.” This is not a group to get chummy with, obviously. Doesn’t say good things about the Absolute’s followers in general, either, or the Absolute depending on if Minthara’s being honest about the Absolute intending that the MC dies after razing the grove. Minthara could just be lying to serve her own ends and is out to destroy any rivals for the Absolute’s favor, after all, I can’t verify that from dialogue exploration at present. So it’s not surprising that this is not a group Astarion is going to let his guard down around I’m sure, or around an MC that sided with the goblins, because fortunes can shift like the wind in a scene like that, and I think his utter lack of surprise at Minthara trying to kill you all (whether or not the MC had a romp with her) is potentially spawned because he recognizes this fact. He’s been here before, in another time, another place, with different faces, but he’s seen this play before. And the MC is just another face for the same old role of a player in this rat race for power when they side with the goblins, aren’t they? The difference this time though is: will they succeed and make it to the top? Is Astarion betting on the winning horse, or not? Far less reason and far more motivation to not be emotionally invested in anyone or anything around him because it’s survival of the fittest, and the most ruthless will be the ones who win—the MC just reinforced that perspective for Astarion, in slaughtering the tieflings. But Astarion isn’t fully corrupted yet, despite however much Cazador has twisted and tormented him so. Isn’t it fascinating, that the MC, one of the first people Astarion can actually interact with relatively freely without Cazador’s puppeteering influence hanging over him quite so acutely, is someone who might very well and very likely will have a huge impact on how Astarion develops and sees the world? For better or for worse, the MC will shape all the companions’ futures and perspectives it seems, depending on their choices. On a meta note, isn’t that thrillingly fascinating and engaging work by Larian Studios? Bravo, honestly. Continuing, for Astarion this could very well just feel like a better but complimentary and thematically continuous segment of the nightmare that is his existence under Cazador as it goes on: he’s a vampire now, and the world is only ever a power struggle between the strong and the weak, and he knows better than to ever be weak again. Kindness and virtue belonged to Before. Before he died, before he turned, before he was taken. Those are things in stories and fairy tales now, that belong to other people, other places and times, other lives—things that belong to the living, not the undead. Sentimentality, more universally-accepted morality, all of those Good™-aligned or softer feelings can feel like they have no place in his world now, on this darker path. But he knows what they are, not just in theory I think, but also perhaps knowing from memory and experience, however distant and faint. The way he speaks on many occasions has subtext that could very well suggest he wasn’t without a better side through implication and emotion. Which is not to say I think he was a shining paragon of virtue before he died—guessing based off of the dev team’s writing of him so far, I’m expecting nuanced and complex but ultimately very human (or elf if you’re being fantasy-based technical) morality with both merits and flaws, for polarizing opinions in the fandom. That being said, I’m holding off judgment on what kind of person he was before he was turned for now despite reading about pre-early-access, preliminary ideas the dev team had for his background. The reason I’m waiting to see what the dev team puts into the game for his backstory of Before, is because some of his datamined lines could be taken in a couple of different ways, and some of his emotional responses as is currently don’t track as truly Machiavellian or I’d say malevolent in nature for manipulation or otherwise. Granted, not all Evil™ acts stem from intentions to be malevolent. Sometimes people do evil both in-game and in life without really intending to, or recognizing that they do, nor seeing the harm they have caused or will cause (I’m looking at you, Mayrina.) Manipulative yes, but so far it’s looked like it’s for defensive purposes in a world that is out to hurt or kill him if given any opportunity whatsoever. Personally I actually wouldn’t even say he’s been really manipulative at all, but your mileage may vary. He lies because he’s afraid you’re going to murder him for being a vampire, and because he doesn’t want to reveal the cause of two centuries’ worth of trauma to someone he just met and likely can’t predict if they’re emotionally safe for him to interact with. Note: “emotionally safe” does not necessarily denote being sympathetic here, so much as “will their response cause me pain in some fashion?” from Astarion’s point of view, which does not necessarily require the MC to be mean to him though obviously that wouldn’t help. We touch upon why sympathy can hurt later on in this essay. And why would he expect sympathy in the other instance, regarding revealing that he’s a vampire? How often would we not murder strange vampires we just met in DND-worlds? Is that not a common response and practice in Faerun for the most part? They’re on the list of acceptable prey for a monster hunter to be kidnapped and taken to who knows what fate (probably nothing good we’re sure), and who would come rescue them? In all actuality: No one. If he wasn’t a companion he’d easily just be one more random encounter to kill—as he and all the companions are in the right circumstances, *cough cough* like when sacrificing anyone to Boooal *cough.* Astarion’s had little cracked moments where he seems to be showing genuine vulnerability, and I’d say he likely displays real genuine emotion plenty of times, just not all the time. While the vulnerable moments could be a ploy, were he the type to actually be fully acting, I’m disinclined to bet that he’d act in the way he does during those moments if he planned them out or even improvised. It could be a mix of both, where it’s both true but also an act of manipulation. Were it the last option, that would require more exploration of his character in various situations to determine imo. I still doubt that though. I think he’s a little too raw and real in his pain, anger, and aggression to say he’s being malevolently manipulative at the end of the day, at least thus far in chapter one. The MC’s choices may change and influence that, on the Evil™ route. I’ve been following some of the fantastic dash discussions on Astarion’s reaction to when the MC tries to comfort him (because of course I have, I’m here for BG3 content and Astarion content especially, aren’t we all here for the same party in his tag? Also hello fellow Astarion stans! :D I hope everyone’s having a good day), and if some of these datamined lines from Pjenn’s blog post are actually implemented and kept as canonical [link], specifically the ones Astarion says regarding heroes, I do think it ties in very strongly with some of what other folks have said regarding his recoiling reaction. Copy-pasted the potential dialogue lines of interest below: Astarion: Heroes. |said with disgust| Astarion: Heroes had two centuries to save me from my torture, but not one came knocking. Astarion: The strong had two centuries to pluck me from torture, but no one came. No, it was the mind flayers that rescued me. Astarion: I spent centuries as the victim of a corrupt man. It was the mind flayers that plucked me away from that. I very much enjoyed all the takes on Astarion’s potential motivations in his response, and I do want to chuck another idea into the fray that supports the vein of ideas that have him being truly afraid and then angry at the MC in that scene, with the speculation including those possible hero lines above as influence. Specifically, I’d like to bring in an outside comparison to part of Molly Grue’s reaction to seeing the Unicorn from The Last Unicorn animated movie for the first time, transcribed below: The Unicorn: I’m here now. Molly: [Bitter laugh] Oh? And where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent, young maidens you always come to? How dare you. How DARE you come to me now, when I am this. [begins to cry, heartbroken] Consider Astarion being shown kindness when he is now away from Cazador, not fully free or safe yet but not currently actively fully suffering Cazador’s torment all up close and personal. Consider that only on that very night before he was snatched up by the mindflayers, which might’ve been anywhere from only a day to a handful of days before this conversation about his nightmare, he was going out to falsely smile and lure some innocent—(“No innocents. You have my word.”)—or perhaps not so innocent, beautiful soul back to Cazador’s mansion to very likely die or be turned. How often must he do so? Is it every night he is ordered to go out and condemn someone else to that unfortunate fate? Do you think Cazador killed them cleanly? Quickly? Why would he, instead of agonizingly grinding out any last traces of sympathy his spawn might have through the guilt that they are the ones who “choose” who suffers and likely dies at Cazador’s hands that night? To give the illusion of choice is one abuse/torture tactic that can be used to break a soul that we see often in games: choose who suffers or dies. Cazador is unquestionably a personality who enjoys the psychological aspect of tormenting his victims, as evidenced by giving Astarion the “choice” to be either flayed or to “dine” on a rotting, dead rat, as well as other mentions of how he puts thought into torturing those around him. Astarion is still so fresh from his torment,—torment that is still technically on-going with the very real threats of resuming once more—he is emotionally bleeding enough arterial blood at the seams to fill a sea. His actions, words, and emotions so often metaphorically smell of blood, and not because he’s a vampire and the traditional role of a vampire being a predator among humanoids ironically enough, but because being a vampire spawn means Cazador. And Cazador means horror. Astarion has survived, yes, and it’s been hell. He’s still in hell, because he isn’t free yet. Not truly. It’s a desperate gasp of air, this taste of freedom, to dream that he could be free of Cazador. Imagine his feelings when he’s now in something like freedom, a reminder of what could be, what his life might’ve and likely was like once upon a time, an uncertain here-and-now where he has the possibility—just a possibility, and an unlikely one at that for most ordinary or less-than-ordinary people, not a certainty—of being free, and he’s just admitted to the horror that is Cazador. Admitted in this moment how much Cazador frightens him, how much just the thought of Cazador frightens him, how much the possibility he might be sent back to his master and having his previous tormented existence resumed truly frightens him. And the MC reaches out in sympathy. In acknowledgement that what Astarion has been through is horrifying. To look at this horror and say it is pain, and terror, and awful, that it isn’t normal. It isn’t something to ignore. It isn’t something to pretend is just everyday same old, same old, to numb and take off the edge as much as one can. That Astarion’s pain and fear aren’t to be sought out for entertainment or at best to be willfully neglected in an act of malice. That stark moment of contrast, like night and day, could bring the pain of two hundred years crashing down inside his head, all compressed into one moment. Feelings he tried so hard to survive through, ignore perhaps, suppress: fear, helplessness, loneliness, misery, anger, sorrow, hatred, pain, anxiety, distress, need. Memories, of so many instances that hurt in that moment and then continued to hurt for so long afterwards. How much must it hurt him, wound him, to lift his head for air and have a perspective outside of his suffering that is sympathetic...but knowing that nobody came to save him.  That perhaps, no one ever will, if he loses this so-called freedom and is dragged back under. That those that care, cannot help you. And that those that can help, do not care.  Why would anyone help him at this point after all? He’s a vampire spawn. A classically defined monster in the eyes of society, and he knows it. (”I’m not some monster!” / ”At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.”) He must have been truly desperate in his starvation to chance anyone finding out he’s a vampire in the party. Not surprising, he can’t rest at the end of the day like the other companions can. He has to expend extra energy at that point to find food discreetly after fighting all day, and subpar food at that. (”Animal blood tastes like muck.” verification needed, it’s a conversational line in some branch of the morning-after he asks to bite the MC the first time) He’s not eating breakfast, snacks or lunch during the day, and he isn’t guaranteed to find food while hunting in the woods. Game might be scarce, he can be wounded or exhausted after a long day of fighting, and he wasn’t starting out in the peak of health to begin with either. He is a vampire spawn yes and apparently can take down large game such as boars to drain them, but that is a rough existence to condemn anyone to mechanically speaking. He knows what he’s risking, regardless of his int stat. But he takes that risk anyway. The character who is so survival driven, risking a very high likelihood of expulsion at best or death as the much-more-likely worst outcome of this attempt? His bite isn’t painless, and pain can wake a person up readily enough if they aren’t a deep sleeper, and how deep a sleeper are most people when in an uncertain and unfamiliar wilderness, potentially while hungry and cold, with the fretting fear of a agonizing death looming over their head? Even accounting for a lack of mental clarity from hunger and exhaustion and other factors, I find it deeply unlikely that Astarion is unaware of how big a risk he’s taking with the odds are stacked against him, rogue class or not. And even if he’s just thrown out of the group? He’s alone. Vulnerable. A target to be hunted by a much bigger, meaner predator. One that won’t kill him quickly, we can guess. His odds are much lower, on his own. Specifically his odds of not being dragged back to Cazador...assuming the MC doesn’t just turn him over to Gandrel. How terrifying is it to imagine that your suffering will never end, to be told it will never end, and then you are reminded of what it is like to not suffer for a time. To have felt the painful hope that maybe there is a possibility that you could escape an existence of torment...but knowing you very well might not? It is desperately bleak. It is no great leap of the imagination to hear Astarion saying—(or more likely thinking because this would be terribly vulnerable...but he might say something when pushed because he’s so full of sharp edges and bleeding insides still)—something similar to Molly Grue’s line in his own fashion, is it? Astarion: “[Bitterly laughing, mockingly so. As he speaks his tone breaks, an edge of raw, desperate hysteria slipping through, attached to centuries of pain turned to anger] And where were you two hundred years ago? A hundred years ago? Where were you when I still desperately thought in the deepest parts of my heart that someone might come? When I still had hope?  Astarion: [his voice turns low and venomous, raising in volume and accusation before finishing with a break on the final word “this”, a tonal admittance of how distraught and self-aware he is of what he’s had to do, of what he’s had to become to survive] How dare you. How DARE you say this to me now, when I am this.”  (the above lines are entirely fictional and are not from any in-game, data-mined, or otherwise official source or content) He’s been made to do so many terrible things, even just based off of the few lines we have heard in early access he’s been through so much horror. An hour of torture, a day, a month is so incredibly long. It can have such lasting impact on a person—PTSD, as we know it in this day and age. A year? Five years, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred? An elf he may be, but from a human perspective...he’s been tortured for lifetimes. Even as an elf, two hundred years is a long time. More than long enough to seriously alter how someone’s brain works—people are both amazingly resilient, but also so incredibly fragile. Cazador has had all this time to play with Astarion’s brain, honestly I find it impressive Astarion has any sense of self left after all this time. That he’s still driven to survive, that he still feels anything at all. (”It doesn’t look broken. But then again, none of us do.”)  It doesn’t surprise me that he’s intensely bitter when encountering the “paladins” of Tyr—(ie Anders and company if you know who I mean—and was that a Dragon Age 2 reference? If not that is an amazing coincidence with the whole Anders-Justice-Vengeance-Demon thing there)—if the MC asks something to the tune of “Don’t you wish someone had helped you when you needed it?” Oh. Oh that had to be a painful question for him. Astarion had his basic needs denied and abused, to ask if he wished that someone had helped him when he needed that and more, and no one came? Why was he denied but the paladins get help? Why does he have to be the hero when no one came for him, when no one very well might come for him when he might still very well be in dire straits in the near future?  I can see the possible desire to inspire sympathy intended in the question from the MC, but it can be so utterly without sympathy to ask that in some contexts, and in Astarion’s case it is. He was being abused and controlled without any way out—Anders and his cohorts opted into the deal with Zariel for personal reasons, not as far as I know under threat of imminent death, and they are relatively capable of fulfilling their end of the bargain barring their current injuries at the time. They certainly have more freedom of choice than Astarion and other vampire spawn ever did, and they were not being tortured right then and there. Warlocks, referring to Anders and co., might even have the option to get out of deals, a la Wyll’s personal questline hook thus far. Astarion can’t get out of his servitude from Cazador. Cazador holds all the cards, makes all the decisions, has all of the power. To compare Astarion’s situation to his face with that of the “paladins”? I’m surprised he wasn’t spitting fury, honestly. They still have normal elements to their day to day life, despite their devil’s deal. They are not being tormented on the daily—yet. They are not in hell—yet. They can get out. They have the possibility. A possibility Astarion didn’t—until now. And isn’t that the most fucked up thing, that it wasn’t a force of Good™ that saved him, but an even bigger monster than Cazador himself? He was saved—by mindflayers, intending some fate that was likely worse for him than before. Even when the Absolute’s hand begins to be revealed in all this, he is still a pawn among monstrous masters. What heroes there are in the world, won’t come for him. They never did before, and they didn’t now. Heroes are for other people, for realities aside from his own. They are for other people, living Other lives. Not his life. Forces of Good™ swooping in to save the day, to correct the wrongs of the world and to make things Right™ just isn’t his normal. Not anymore, if ever it was. His normal was warped by Cazador a long time ago. Is it a stretch of the imagination that if Cazador twisted “dinner” to be a choice between consuming a rotting, putrid rat corpse or being flayed on a nightly basis, turning “poetry” into the memory of a “sonnet” carved into Astarion’s back with a razor over the course of an entire night full of Astarion’s own pained screams? Is it hard to imagine that Cazador also took pleasure in turning other ordinary situations one might encounter in normal life into nightmare versions as well for Astarion and his other spawn? One illithid mind-power option shows Cazador controlling Astarion by holding his chin, though without any further context. Cazador wouldn’t have had to do more than that to invoke terror, after a certain point in time. It seems highly unlikely the gesture wasn’t followed up with more pain, though. Perhaps in that moment when he speaks of his nightmare in the first conversation and the MC reaches out to him in sympathy...Astarion was reminded of something. Multiple somethings, multiple moments, when Cazador reached out to him oh so casually, and it ended in pain and terror. The way the camera is framed as of the current time in early access, the way he flinches away crying “No!” so quiet and low, his eyes wide and staring just so, how he goes so far as to pull back almost entirely out of frame and the camera slowly pans to follow him? Perhaps that is just a stand-in scene, but as it is, even now, it emphasizes that he is I would argue genuinely afraid, and reflexively responding in what is likely his first opportunity to freely respond to his traumatically induced fear. The first opportunity where he wasn’t supernaturally compelled to do exactly as Cazador ordered him to, the first opportunity where he was likely not going to be tormented further for expressing his fear, for having his main tormentor laugh and delight in his distress. The first instance where he for a split second let his guard down, and didn’t expect to be hurt—until the MC reached for him, echoing possible memories of what happened last time someone (Cazador) did that. It’s not Cazador reaching for him. But...it is not Cazador. He doesn’t have to worry about Cazador hurting him right that second, but...will the MC hurt him, like Cazador did? Will they make it look like they’re going to help him, that he can trust them, and then betray him? (”How can you be so cruel?” / “It [Raphael playing games] reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged.”) But they scared him. They scared him, and perhaps for a moment he was back there, in another time and place, where he knows, where he remembers, vividly, perhaps even recently, what normally would have happened to him. And how dare they make him feel that. (“I can do without reliving that particular night, thank you.” [Nightmare about Cazador dialogue, a separate scene if you miss the insight check from the first post-nightmare camp discussion I believe.]) He’s so raw and upset, both aggressive and defensive when he speaks about his nightmares in quite a few of his lines, asking and waiting to explain just why his nightmares are truly so terrifying, especially in the second-nightmare conversation. The way he speaks there, and in other scenes, makes me very disinclined to interpret him as actively intending evil in general so much as having been shaped to be ruthless through a centuries-long trial by fire that he isn’t free and clear of yet. Based off of how he reacts on more than one occasion, I’m personally inclined to take a leaf from Wyll’s book and say I do think he has more than just potential to be good. “Good™” being relative of course to his situation and undead-life—Astarion has GREAT potential as a character to explore not only what it means to be Evil™ aligned, but also what people on the meta perceive as evil, as well as what prejudices we may carry from that labeling.  He is I think very much an excellent walking morality test and ironically a mirror for the player’s character. What kind of person is the MC, in how they treat and interact with him. He is a complicated and morally-entangled character, and it is so very easy to only read him in the here and now within the stark, daylight context of societal’s average norms without looking at the very real, very recent nightmarish Twilight Zone reality he’s lived in that echoes through his words and story thus far. It’s a marvelous bit of echoing reality and real life here by Larian, truth be told: how do you tell people about your life, when it’s been a ceaseless, unending nightmare? With smiles, witticisms, and the occasional polished lie that bleeds out pain, for some folks anyway, including Astarion. He says he’s having more fun at the goblin party, but at the tiefling party? That’s probably the first time he’s been at a normal party where he hasn’t had to obey and fear Cazador’s orders and inevitable torment during or afterwards. That’s the first time in his entire undead existence when he’s been in a social situation like this without being afraid, hurt, or manipulated. It’s not a fun party on its own by his standards, but it is a safe party for him. In a way though, safety can be boring. A luxury, yes, but in this case? For him, boring. And boring...might very well be irritating, in an anxiety-turned-irritation fashion, because he’s not being tormented right this very moment. He should be finding something to enjoy, because in his normal everyday routine? In the day to day that he would expect, that his subconscious expects out of habit? Opportunity for any form of enjoyment must be rare indeed, twisted and tainted by Cazador’s ever looming shadow over every minute of Astarion’s vampiric existence so far. It could be anxiety-inducing, to not seek pleasure or some form of happiness or comfort while there is opportunity for it, in what one perceives as a respite from constant, on-going suffering. (”Why do you insist on exhuming the past?” - when you ask about his past in camp, after you know he’s a vampire. An unpleasant reminder of an unpleasant past, why would he want to dwell on it? He has enough pain to last him multiple lifetimes. Literally.) From the deep, deep depths of prolonged suffering, it can potentially take a great deal more intensity of sensation to feel anything at all, let alone something approaching happiness. (”For the first time in two hundred years, I felt happy.” [presumed Astarion-origin line after drinking from a sleeping companion] / “I feel strong. I feel...happy!” [after MC succeeds in persuading Astarion to stop drinking from their neck after giving him permission to do so.]) This isn’t even taking into consideration how vampirism might have impacted Astarion’s psychology on a metabolic/biochemical level, so to speak. Where Larian goes with that is still to be determined, though my money’s on they give him more a murderous edge and natural inclination—not unlike a Beast-lite version of bloodlust from Vampire: The Masquerade— but still keep his core traits very much human rather than supernaturally-alien/2D-cut-out-monstrous. (Or elvhen, if we’re being fantasy-world-linguistically technical here again.) Touching on the matter of monstrous behavior though...It is a powerfully understated moment of casual cruelty that Larian allows the MC to decide once and once only, if Astarion may also drink from people or only animals. It’s so fitting I don’t believe it to be coincidence that he was a magistrate in his backstory—isn’t the MC passing a judgement too on him, a sentence to change his life for the foreseeable future, possibly forever without realizing or perhaps not caring about the full extent of their actions? And one cannot forget Wyll’s comment about the rat diet. Oh, can you not hear the resonating parallel real life pain from how those ignorant of another’s hurts might unintentionally mock the person and hurt them so? How some might apply their own morality from their own life experiences, without looking at the full extent of the consequences of their actions? A life and perspective that more likely has never been tested under the lash and upon the rack of some of life’s worst possible realities? Even if Wyll and the MC don’t mean to be, it is so very, very cruel. It is beautifully painful, Abdirak and the goddess Loviatar would be proud. (”My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel...happy!”) To be denied not just better food, but the ability to think clearly, to feel well, the actuality of being happy as a norm? It is so very hollow an existence to feel so constantly weak of both body and mind, and oh isn’t it just the richest thing, that an MC might echo Cazador’s choice and power over Astarion thusly? It’s enough to make one laugh an Evil Laugh™ of appreciation at just how unthinkingly, horribly cruel a person can potentially be while playing a Good™ character. This is actually a level of genius on Larian’s part that I wonder how many in the audience will actually look at and appreciate the subtle horror of. The horror that we do this too, in real life, sometimes without ever knowing the seemingly small, far-reaching ripples of harm an unthinking phrase or comment can do when we don’t take another’s reality into consideration—that we don’t know what it is we don’t know. It is a fine piece of storytelling, to offer up a story with so many facets to reflect upon. It’s so beautifully crafted that Astarion speaks and dresses like a noble, that he can so easily be perceived as a person of privilege at first glance should one merely look at some of his surface behaviors and inclinations—remnant trappings of his distant past most likely, from once upon a time. It’s a delightful reveal and subversion that he, I think we can safely say, isn’t that. Perhaps he was, once, but he isn’t at this point in his life, not anymore. Appearances are deceiving, and doesn’t that just tie so nicely right into some of Astarion’s potential themes and behaviors? The lies that crack open as truth and pain come bleeding out from underneath? I do wonder how many of Larian’s audience have known hunger—and not known when the next meal will happen, what it might be, if it will have strings attached? The kind of hunger that follows you everywhere, that roots down into your bones and hollows out a home there forever more? It changes how a person sees things, how they act, how they think, even when they’re removed from being hungry all the time. One doesn’t need to be skin and bones to feel like one is starving constantly,—(I very much enjoy that headcanon just to clarify, I’m not intending to throw shade in any of this or future rambling)—to be kept on a hollow diet of empty calories that are enough to keep your heart pumping, but your body struggles because it doesn’t have the nutrients it needs in the amounts it needs? To feel your mind fog over with exhaustion and blanketed despair, a primal and low level desperation whittled down into a tired and numb, anxious background static from adrenal fatigue? Miscellaneous aches, pains and problems that seem unrelated but in reality, if only you knew, were because your body can’t function the way it should ideally, because you don’t have what you truly need? A very real problem in real life, for far too many people. And oh, the beautiful, casual, so very human monstrousness Larian lets us exercise here, knowing or unknowing. It is such a powerful, understated cluster of ideas. And I think Larian knew—someone on the dev team did their homework on both traditional starvation but also what one might call masked-starvation as no doubt other tumblr folks have also speculated, just based off of what we’ve seen and because of that Happy buff Astarion gets when he uses his Vampiric Bite ability in combat. It fits right into his whole theme of “what makes a monster and what makes a man?” (Sing the bells of Notre Dame~♪) But not necessarily asking that question only of him. Rather, asking it also of the MC. This fits into the game’s whole theme with the tadpoles, the choice of using the power and turning into “Something More Beautiful” as Minthara put it, of taking the darker path, it all fits so very well. I just want to applaud this because it’s not a major story-beat moment. It’s a companion-side-quest moment. It’s going to be for the most part seen as a combat-game-mechanic and head-canon defining moment, deciding if Astarion may feed on people or not. I doubt we’d see Larian actually changing Astarion’s demeanor much in how he delivers lines with a “allowed to drink people blood” code flag, as cool as that might be. It very well could factor into later outcomes but for voice acting I doubt they’ll make an entire second/third/etc set of each line spawning from that one seemingly small choice. It makes me very hopeful that Larian can handle such weighty themes so deftly thus far—we’ll have to wait and see if they can stick the landing once the game is finished, but boy oh boy their nuance and delivery so far is strong as steel and sharp as a double-edged sword right out of the gate. The studio is in a fantastic position to explore and to challenge people’s thoughts and ideas regarding character builds like Astarion’s imo, depending on how the dev team chooses to play it out. Seeing some of Gale and Shadowheart’s dialogue trees from the goblin party, I have high hopes that the dev team will allow a great deal of exploration and flexibility all across the moral spectrums, not only allowing us the option to drag the more seen-as-good-aligned characters down paths of moral corruption,—(note: I’m including Shadowheart in more neutral-ish territory for now but the fact that she seems to feel emotionally ill—guilty, one could say—at the goblin party and is busy trying to get drunk to drown that feeling out suggests to me she Definitely does have a more good-aligned moral compass to a nuanced degree)—but also the chance to drag more seen-as-evil-aligned characters along the path to more traditionally good endings and persuade them to see the benefits of playing nice with others per more classic Good™ societal rules (subjectively speaking ofc.) But Larian is also in a very precarious place too—speaking strictly of just the one character as the focus of this essay, Astarion resonates very easily through that very real fear, pain, anger, bitterness and so many other emotions as a result of what he has survived, is still surviving through, and struggling against: trauma. How bitter indeed would it be should a character—that people with very deep, real pain can relate to—not get at least the option for a well-crafted, hopeful and merciful epilogue? Oh the sympathetic pain that Larian could reap could be pain of the very worst kind, if they condemn him to only death and darkness with bleak endings that lack nuance and care. I’ve seen some posts where people worry about Astarion not potentially having a good ending, with possible unspoken implications that he might be railroaded into betraying the MC. I’d like to say that I think a lot of his subtext, even looking at the instances where he lies and the datamined details of the voice-acting-directions, would run counter to railroading him to only ever betraying the MC. I think straight betrayal is going to run as mostly antithetical to his core themes in a way. He might betray your MC—but it will likely be because the MC betrayed him first in a myriad of small ways, or in a big way. Approval-rating-system based choices are a very real possibility too, separately or as a part of the equation naturally, in addition to your major in-game choices. That would also include the scenario of betrayal through using the tadpole powers enough to be mind-controlled into having no will of his own, much like the other characters, including the MC. I do think we have plenty of good, solid reason to be very hopeful that he will have a possible good continuation—not ending. A continuation where he manages to free himself from Cazador with the help of his companions or perhaps dare he even say friends, manages to begin the process of healing the immediate pains of his trauma and learning how to truly live with all that he’s been through and all that he’s done, to have the possibility of not only living but living both happily and well for the most part? Who knows what else Larian Studios might have in the works for him and the other companions, as well as the MC and the story of Baldur’s Gate 3. But good outcomes for all seems like it very likely could happen, for all of the companions. His wiki page’s summary tagline hook in particular offers up that implied promise from the developers to the audience, I would say, “Astarion prowled the night as a vampire spawn for centuries, serving a sadistic master until he was snatched away. Now he can walk in the light, but can he leave his wicked past behind?” What that promise is, varies from creator to creator. In this case, based on the wording, I would say that potentially implies a satisfyingly well-crafted and engaging story wherein we find out and determine if the answer to that question is yes or no, and in a DND-based RPG full of choices that have an impact on the people and world around you? In a game genre that has a history of multiple, varied endings for your companions based on how you play? That checks out. Larian so far has been handling things admirably well in my opinion, and I’m willing to invest emotionally in this story they’re telling with the trust that they will deliver a good continuation and conclusion. But on the off-chance that somehow Astarion’s endings all turn out painful and tragic on the meta for the fanbase, that the associated intentional or unintentional messages wound and grieve those who recognize and resonate most strongly with the pains he has felt? On that off-chance, in that instance where we are left bereft and disappointed because of what happened to him or any of the companions or the story itself should somehow things go awry, then it would be your right to ask Larian the very same question Astarion asked you once: How can you be so cruel?

[jupitermelichios]

10 Manga Recommendations for Quarantine (or any other time)

People seemed to like my previous recs, so I thought I’d do a few more while so many of you are stuck home with some free time to kill. I don’t read a lot of manga these days, and my tastes are somewhat ecclectic, but hopefully there’ll be something in here for you.

20th Century Boys - Naoki Urasawa

Kenji didn’t like that a new doomsday cult had started recruiting in his neighbourhood, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. As least until a letter from an old friend leads him to realise that the cult’s symbols and mythology are based on a children’s story. A story he and his friends made up thirty years ago. Now he must track down people he hasn’t seen since middle school as he desperately tries to remember which of his friends knew the story... and figure out which of them is leading the cult.

This isn’t just the best manga I’ve ever read, it’s one of the best stories full stop. Even if you think you hate manga, I urge you to give this a try.

Claymore - Norihiro Yagi

Claire was never supposed to be a Claymore. But when Theresa of the faint smile saved her life as a child, she knew there was no other path for her. With few of the supernatural powers granted to her sisters, she struggles to survive as a monster hunter in a brutal world where death is always waiting.

This was serialised in Shounen Jump originally, and it shows in places, but mostly this is a compelling drama, with some of the most startlingly beautiful and horrible monster design in all of fantasy and scifi.

Drrr!!! - Ryohgo Narita (illustrated by Akiyo Satorigi)

Nothing in Ikebukero is quite what it seems. The Russian Mafia sell the best sushi in town, demons are haunting the chatrooms, there’s a new gang on the streets, and if you’re really unlucky, you might just meet the Black Rider. They say its bike whinnies like a horse. They say it killed three men who tried to kidnap a girl. They say it has no head. They say... that it just wants to do the job and get paid like everyone else.

Drrr!!! is an experience. It blends fantasy and realism in ways I’ve very rarely seen done, and delights in subverting your expectations. Characters who appears to fit into archetypes any manga fan will recognise never turn out to be quite who you think they are, just as the story never quite goes where you expect it to.

Petshop of Horrors - Matsuri Akino

Do you want a protector? A companion? A friend? A lover? A child? Whatever you need, Count D has the perfect pet for you (even if they don’t always look like animals). Just remember to read the small print, very very carefully.

While there is, sort of, an overarching plot, these books are portmanteu horror in the old style, a series of barely connected unsettling stories strung together by a shared narrator and a handful of recurring characters. Spoopy more than genuinely spooky, and occaisionally surprisingly touching, this is a great series to dip in and out of.

Death Note - Tsugumi Ohba (illustrated by Takeshi Obata)

“Let's just say this: you will feel the fear and pain known only to humans who've used the notebook. And when it's your time to die, it will fall on me to write your name in my death note. Be warned any human who's used a Death Note can neither go to heaven nor hell for eternity. That's all.“

One of the very rare examples where the source material does live up to (almost all) the hype. Clever, dark, surprisingly apolitical, and just the right amount of very very cheesy.

Tokyo Ghoul - Sui Ishida

Keneki Ken was an extremely ordinary guy, living an extremely ordinary life... right up until the girl he fancied tried to eat him. Now he’s part of the world of Ghouls, struggling to hold on to what’s left of his humanity as all his old moral certainties are stripped away from him. Ghouls are people, they have hopes and dreams and loves and they deserve the right to live just like anyone else. It’s just that to live, they have kill humans.

Did you want to be cool and edgy as a teenager but you never quite had the guts to do it? Congratulations, Tokyo ghoul is for you. Think of it as emergency rations for your inner Goth.

Black Cat - Kentaro Yabuki

Sometimes a family is a legendary hitman on the run from his past, his mysterious boyfriend, a recovering child soldier, and the bisexual thief who keeps inviting herself into their lives.

Okay technically Train and Sven aren’t a couple. Technically. Rins is canon bi though so that’s cool. This book is a lovely little time capsule of the days when shonen manga was inexplicably full of bounty hunters with bizarre superpowers going on wacky adventures, and I love it for that. Plus it’s full of that good-good found family trope and we could all do with a bit more of that in our lives.

Beauty Pop - Kiyoko Arai

Kiri Koshiba is no ordinary teenager. She has a secret, something she hides from even those closest to her. The only ones who know about her special abilities are those she rescues. You see Kiri is secretly... really good at giving haircuts.

This is a deeply silly book, full of deeply silly characters, in which hairdressing is treated with the exact same seriousness that sports animes treat basketball or tennis, and reading it just makes me smile. Sometimes when the world’s a bit shit you just want to read about an undercover hairdresser helping girls with their self confidence and giving them rad haircuts.

Bizenghast - M. Alice LeGrow

Dinah Wherever is more goth than you. She’s got the wardrobe, and the doomed love, and non-specific mental health issues. Oh, and she’s enslaved to Bizenghast, cursed to spend her nights laying to rest the unquiet spirits that haunt the graveyard there and if she fails, she’ll loose her life... or something worse.

The first volume is definitely the standout in this short series, with stunning artwork and detailed world building, but all of it is a fun, creepy, surprisingly dark story, full of the author’s love for old school gothic romance.

The Wallflower - Tomoko Hayakawa

Mine Nakahara is concerned that her neice Sunako is never going attract a wealthy husband with a mysterious heart condition if she doesn’t learn not to be such a shut in. So in desperation, she turns to the only obvious solution - give four well-meaning himbos rent free accomodation in exchange for them teaching Sunako to wash, wear something other than sweatpants, and talk about anything that isn’t horror movies.

Sometimes you don’t want drama, or angst, or deep plot. Sometimes it’s enough to watch four attractive and deeply stupid men try to teach the human equivilent of an angry raccoon how to walk in heels.

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt. 1

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,902 words

Notes: This is my first Hybrid story. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I have two more parts outlined and will update as soon as possible because this quarantine has done nothing but give me time to write.

Date Posted: 4/24/2020

My hands cradled the ever-growing bump I have for a stomach. I still can’t believe I’m pregnant. If you would have told me four months ago I was going to be pregnant and alone I would have never believed you. I was in a loving relationship with my high-school sweetheart and we were against the world.

Until I found him pressed in between the legs of some random girl from his accounting class. That was three months ago- exactly a week before I found out I was pregnant. I let him know immediately and he admonished me for thinking he was the father. Apparently, there was no way he could be the father- we had only had sex four times in the past year. 

It only takes one time, I thought as I picked up the last of my bags. He had moved out of our apartment the week I found him cheating on me and I was more than capable of keeping the place myself but with a baby? No way. I knew nothing about being a mother and thankfully my parents insisted on me coming back home at the end of the semester so they could help me. I’d be finishing my degree online until I got more settled with the baby. 

Until. This was only temporary until I got my life back on track. 

This has been my mantra for the past few weeks. I’ve repeated it daily in hopes of quelling the anxiety of bringing in a new life. I repeat as I drive twenty minutes out of the city and back home. Parking in front of the house I grew up in, I can feel the dread knotting itself in my stomach. This made everything all the more real and I was scared. Scared to face my future. While I was battling my inner demons I never noticed Hoseok approaching the car until he pulled open my door.

“Y/n! You’re finally here!” he squealed as he awkwardly wrapped me up in a hug. My waist was pinned back against the seat with the seat-belt but he was pulling me out of the car. Hoseok was my adopted brother.  He was a hybrid my parents saved when we were both young and he’s been my brother ever since but most people don’t agree with my family’s ideology. 

“Hobi you’re hurting me.” I gasped and he instantly released me his fluffy black ears falling flat against his hair. I unbuckled before hopping out and wrapping him in the biggest hug possible. He welcomed the hug with a tightened grasp. I missed him. 

“How’s the baby?” I hear my mother call from the porch and Hoseok releases me. He reached past me into the car to pop the trunk before going to unload. I turn towards my mother to see two men beside her as they all make their way down the driveway. Both of the men were taller than Hoseok and like Hoseok they were hybrids. They seemed to be total opposites as far as their fashion choices went. Monochromatic would be the only way to describe their appearance; one an entirely dark presence- his clothes were tight and black from top to bottom, the other was a soft entity- his clothes were light, ashy gray that matched his hair.  They both walk past me and assist Hoseok without a glance towards me. My mother captures me in a warm hug.

“They’re doing fine and your baby is doing great too.” I finally answer, returning her hug. As we part, she lays her hand on my stomach with tears in her eyes.

“I swore Jinnie would give me my first grand-babies but here you are, breaking through every expectation once again.”

“I thought I would be an aunt before I was a mother too but I figured it’d be Joon. he was always the ladies’ man in high school.” I sighed exasperatedly. My other two older brothers were back in the city and have already started their careers. Seokjin was engaged and Namjoon was so focused on his career that I don’t think he’s been on a date since high school.

“Well, life has a funny way of making things happen. Have you found out the gender yet?”

“As I told you three days ago, they’re sitting weird and we can’t figure out what it is,” I said as we walked into the house. I could hear my dad in the kitchen, presumably cooking tacos from the smell of it. He was always the best cook in the house and insisted on cooking every meal. I followed the scent of cumin and sizzling beef as I could hear the pounding of feet up the stairs behind me.

“Baby girl, I’m making your favorite,” He says as he comes over for a quick side hug. As quick as he was here- he was gone. Back to tending to the tortillas and chopping the onions.

“I haven’t had tacos in forever, whenever I smelled any kind of beef I became nauseous,” I commented idly, my father’s face turning up in disgust and my mother’s showing sympathy.

“I couldn’t eat eggs for any of my pregnancies, especially during the first trimester.” she patted my shoulder gently and moved towards the fridge. I heard the stampeding feet once again and was quickly tugged into someone’s side.

“What’s my nephew’s name?” Hoseok asked loudly, his cheek pressed to the top of my head. I glanced quietly towards the doorway where the two men stood as still as a pair of statues while intently looking towards me.

“It might be a niece you’re getting.” I retorted while pulling myself away. I stepped towards the doorway duo with an outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Y/n, sorry that no one else introduced us.”

The first one to shake my hand had broad shoulders and ashy gray hair. He had a long tail that reached the floor that was the same gray as his appearance but was accented by black spots. He held my hand gingerly and dipped his head towards me. “ I’m Taehyung, its nice to meet you.” His hand lingered as I turned to the next guy.

The second man had more muscles than I had ever seen on your average person. His face was jarring with the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, he had short-cropped hair that accentuated his tall pointed ears. And unlike the first, he hesitated on taking my hand. 

“Jungkook,” He said tersely before shaking my hand once and dropping it like it was hot coals. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said while stepping away once. Taehyung took a half step forward, his gaze still trapped on my face. Jungkook’s gaze was firmly focused on my stomach, an intense look that made my heart skip and subconsciously pull my hands forward to protect them. 

“You’re not going to ask?” Taehyung asked, his face screwed up in confusion. I could feel Hoseok’s presence towering behind me- his hand reaching up to grasp my shoulder. 

“Ask what?” My head cocked in confusion before realization dawned on me. “Oh, how rude of me. How was your day?” Hoseok chuckled from behind me before piping in.

“He meant asking what they were.” embarrassment made my face flush, how could I be so dense?

“Oh. Uh. Well, you can tell me if you want. I honestly don’t really care about that, I’m not too sure about what Hobi is.”

“Great Pyrenees. Goodness, you’d think after sixteen years you’d know that.”

“All I know is that you’re fluffy and a cuddle bug.”

“I’m a snow leopard hybrid.” Taehyung quickly interjected, his ears pointed up, they rose mere centimeters above his wild untamed curls. They were the same color as his ashy hair but had accents of black on the tips. 

“Really? That’s so cool, I’ve never met a snow leopard hybrid before.” He mirrored my smile, his eyes crinkling into feline-esque slits. Faint patches of freckles were mapped across his cheekbones, curling up around his eyes. 

“We’re as rare as our animal counterpart.” His eyes glanced quickly towards Jungkook meaningfully then flickered away just as fast. “Jungkook here is a German Shepherd hybrid.”

“Wow, that’s really cool.” Jungkook couldn’t meet my stare and quietly excused himself, high tailing his way back up the stairs. Taehyung ignored his retreating form and instead stepped into the kitchen, sitting at the counter. Hoseok followed after him relaxing  into the  second to last stool

“Sorry, he’s a bit apprehensive, Hoseok warned us about your pregnancy and that you might have crazy mood swings.” The gray man added conversationally, his eyes scanning over my face approvingly. He cracked a grin at the disbelief that spread across my face.

“Crazy what?” my father chuckled at my incredulous tone, “Hobi I will kill you.” I stepped towards him menacingly and he shot up off his perch.

“See Tae? It’s already happening. Mom, get your daughter.” he cried out as he circled around the counter towards mom.

He tried to duck behind her smirking form as I neared but he underestimated the drama mom lived for. “You only brought this on yourself, honey.” She flitted over to dad’s side and taste-tested the corn salsa.

“Who’s gonna save you now?” I smirked at him as I crept closer, my hands poised to pinch the ever-loving shit out of his cheeks.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t fight a pregnant woman,” Hobi whined as he resisted my efforts- his entire upper body leaning away from me.

“If either of you scoundrels hurt my grand-baby I will ground you both.” my dad intoned, halting both our figures. My hands cupping his face and his pushing against my shoulders lightly. Taehyung was laughing at us- he had melodic giggles.

“Taehyung dear, will you go tell Jungkook it’s time for dinner? Y/n and Hoseok go set the table.” Mom ordered and all three of us obeyed instantly. Hobi pulled a stack of plates out the cabinet and I rounded up the silverware. Taehyung was up the stairs by the time Hobi and left the kitchen and headed over to the dining room. I straightened out the red table mats and laid out a set of silverware while Hobi was a step behind me laying out his stack of plates. 

“So, all jokes aside, how has it been?” he asked as we finished up, I leaned heavily against the chair in front of me. It sucks. I’m about to be responsible for a whole person. I’m scared and alone.  Is what I thought but there was no way I could actually tell him that.

“Well, it’s not what I had planned but I’ll get through it. It’s weird being back here when I’ve been living in the city for the past three years.” A wry smile managed to take residence on my face.

“You’ll get used to it, and like you said you’ll get through it. Have you heard from him?” Hobi settled into the chair directly across from me. He started to fiddle with his spoon as I sunk down into my seat.

“No, and I don’t want to. He said he wasn’t the father and that he didn’t want to be.”

“Jin and I will still kick his ass if you want us to.” He was focused on the spoon in his hand, but I could tell that emotionally he was struggling. He was always the more empathetic of my brothers and showed to be more protective of our family at every turn. He was the first one I told when I found Henry was unfaithful and he was the first to know I was pregnant.

“No, it’s fine. We don’t need that loser anyway.” I smile at him, hoping to convey my appreciation to how he’s been so strong in supporting me. My eyes strayed up to the stairs, the question finally breaking through. “Uh, what’s with our two guests? Friends of yours from work?”

“No, the shelter caught on fire last week, and since mom and dad are certified for fostering they brought them in. Mom didn’t tell you?” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. 

“She didn’t but that sucks about the shelter. When will it be fixed?” The shelter was where hybrids could stay and be safe. And, as unfair as it is, where they could find their next home. Hybrids had a terrible history and humans were horrible when it came to them. Many held no regard for their hybrids- considering them no better than an animal. Thankfully by adolescence hybrids usually find their place in life and the shelter typically only houses kids being adopted out. There were cases where a family who could no longer provide the care for their hybrid had to surrender them to the shelter. Cases presumably like Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Boss said a couple of months until the renovations are all finished.” Hoseok was a volunteer at the shelter, he has been since high school. Hybrids weren’t allowed to work without the permission of their family (something that outrages our family to no end) and most could only work in volunteer positions. 

“Maybe they’ll finally fix the break room's window.” I teased, for as long as I can remember the window has been duct-taped together. No matter what- renovations or accidents being repaired- the window has remained duct-taped together.

“That window has been broken since Hoseok came into the family,” Dad chimed in as he swept into the room. He was carrying the frying pan full of steak in one hand and a table protector in the other. He laid it in the center of the table as Mom, Taehyung, and Jungkook followed behind with their arms full of the side dishes. 

“There’s always hope.” Retorted Hobi, ever the optimist.

“I highly doubt it- it’ll probably be the only thing missed by the renovations.” Dad shook his head, having lost hope on that window years ago.

“What’s being missed?” Mom asks, situating the chopped tomatoes and the tower of tortillas.

“The shelter’s break room window.” I supplied, helping pull out the chair to my right for her to sit. Jungkook settled in the seat in between Hoseok and my dad; Taehyung claimed the seat on the right of my mother. 

“Oh that thing has always been broken, I figured they’d fix it years ago. Anyway, Hoseok dear pass me the sour cream.” at that, we all settled into making our plates. 

“Dad, this is sublime, I’ve been living off of pizza and ramen for the past few months.” The taco was by far the best thing I’ve eaten in months. The seasonings and fresh ingredients almost overwhelming my poor college student tastebuds. Dad smiled down the table at me.

“Is that healthy for the baby?” Hoseok asked making a face of concern directed to my stomach. 

“You can worry about yourself- I already got an earful of complaints from mom about prenatal vitamins.” Jungkook snorted at the retort and smiled at me for the first time.

“Honestly what's the difference between prenatal vitamins and regular vitamins?” Taehyung asked, turning towards my mother and I. I shrugged and shoved another taco in my mouth. Mom said they were important and I believed her- plus my doctors said it was great when I had told him I was already taking the vitamins.

“They have more iron and other nutrients that pregnant women don’t get enough of.” Mom explained and Taehyung nodded thoughtfully.

“Pregnancy is so much work, I don't know how you did it three times mom.” Mom laughed at that- covering her face with a napkin. 

“Raising you four was way more work, pregnancy was a breeze compare to four teenagers.” She looked at me with pointed eyes. Ah, yes, the dreaded teenage years I would soon face. I grimaced at the thought of hormone-fueled years. Hopefully, I’ll have a daughter, I knew how girls worked throughout puberty.

“Hey, Namjoon wasn’t nearly as bad as the other three.” Dad defended, he was always on the defense of his supposed angel child.

“Joonie almost slept with the entire highschool our junior year and I’m surprised he even got through college without a baby,” Hobi interjected loudly causing Taehyung to laugh.

“No really, Jin, and I thought he was going to catch something.” He continued, turning towards the gray hybrid. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes expressed the utmost of sincerity.

“Your brother did not.” Mom joined the defense, her and dad believing the facade Joon had put up throughout our childhood. 

“That’s what you think, he was a sneaky little bastard.” I chimed in joining Hobi’s side. Jungkook and Taehyung were giggling to themselves watching us all bicker.

“Middle children always are,” Jungkook said joining the offensive.

“They’re nowhere near as spoiled as the youngest.” Hobi suddenly turned on me, the shock of betrayal apparent in my scoff.

“She’s the only girl, you guys never stood a chance.” The unexpected support form Taehyung had me smirking at my new enemy.

“It’s not my fault I’m the favorite,” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and leveled Hobi with a teasing glare.

“Seokjin might beat you there.” Mom rebuked, completely sideswiping me. 

“Hey! Does your grandchild mean nothing to you?” I cried out in mock surprise, Jin was mom’s angel child.

“Honey, we promised not to tell them.” 

“Honestly, high key offended but not surprised.” Hoseok shook his head as he continued on with his taco. The room dissolved into chatter as we finished dinner; I excused myself from the table to unpack. 

I slowly made my way up the stairs while taking the time to look at all the photos of my brothers and me throughout the years. My room was the first room at the top of the stairs- Hoseok’s was directly across. Namjoon and Seokjin’s rooms were the other two rooms but both have now turned into guest bedrooms ever since they graduated college. My room used to be our parents’ when we were really young but soon after bringing Hobi into the family, they renovated the garage into the master bedroom of their dreams.

My room was still the ugly lime green color that I begged my dad into painting it when I was in middle school. The furniture was a yellowing white and had layers of neon colors splattered on it. Coming home really incited the cringe-worthy memories of my early teen years- swore it was cool at some point. My suitcases and duffel bags were resting on my bed. I decided to shuffle my music while unpacking the impossible amounts of clothes I managed to pack. 

~~~~~~~~

“Now all your love is wasted, then who the hell was I?” I sang along, lost in the moment of hanging up all of my shirts. One bag remained after I finished my shirts- my underwear and socks. I was startled out of my peaceful reverie at the abrupt knock at my door. I whipped around to see Jungkook hesitating at my doorway with a shy smile. 

“Your mom asked me to bring this up to you,” he answered my unasked question and held out a plate with chocolate cake. My mouth watered just looking at it.

“Thank you Jungkook, just set it down on that dresser and I’ll get it when I finish this up “I waved towards the surface closest to him with the hanger in hand while hooking on a sweater. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he slowly stepped into the room and laid the cake on the dresser.

He stood in place while looking around at my room his gaze finally settling on the pile of luggage on the floor at the foot of my bed. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” My answer was quick and he seemed to flinch at it. To soften the unintended blow I smiled awkwardly, “but you’re more than welcome to hang out in here.”He meandered over to edge of the bed as I hung up the last shirt from my bag. It was silent as I shoved the bag off the bed and onto the pile of other emptied ones and made my way over to my cake. I hopped up onto the dresser to sit so I could face Jungkook while I ate. He avoided looking at my face and instead looked at the posters hung on my wall that were of artists that never really charted on any kind of chart.

“What kind of music are you into?”He looked at me quizzically as I finally broke the awkward silence between us.

“Well, that’s a tough question. A little bit of everything I guess, mainly pop if I had to settle on a genre.” I finished my cake and set it to the side as I smiled at him wildly.

“Me too, I kind of go in phases though, like it’ll be pop and then I’ll really get into 70s indie rock for a couple of weeks.” He softly grinned at my enthusiasm before snickering.

“You sound like Tae when he gets into his movies, it’ll be a week-long showing of all marvel films and then two months of obscure Buster Keaton films.” His tone sounded as if he’s experienced this far too many times to count.

“Buster Keaton was the shit though,” my proclamation was met with the horror of a man too well versed in debating Buster Keaton.

“Oh god, not another one.” he groaned, flopping back onto my bed. I laughed a little until he sat up again, his smile sobering me up.

“So how long have you and Taehyung known each other?” Were they from the same home before being placed in the shelter? It wasn’t that often that people were able to bond so well when in the shelter with how short their stays typically were.

“We have been roommates at the shelter for, I guess, about a year now. He’s my best friend.” Jungkook’s smile was the complete opposite of what should accompany that sentence. A month was the maximum I had ever heard of someone staying in the shelter. I schooled my features to not show the shock I felt.

“Who me? It better be me or else I’m chopping heads off.” Taehyung entered the room in the most dramatic way possible. Unlike Jungkook he hadn’t waited for an invitation and instead strutted into the room while Jungkook rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“I hear you’re a fellow Keaton aficionado.” My statement caused him to falter in his stride, he quickly recovered with a beaming smile directed towards me.

“On occasion, noir is where my heart is truly.” His hand clutched at the thick gray cardigan right above his heart.

“Your heart changes every other day.” Jungkook rebutted, his eyes rolling so far back he might lose them back there. 

“She’s noncommittal okay, we don’t judge here.” Taehyung glared at his best friend and it made my heart swell at how cute they both were.

“I’m most definitely judging,” Jungkook muttered falling back on his elbows and staring up at the ceiling, feigning annoyance.

“Can you believe him Y/n?” The deep timbre of his voice negated any nasal squeak he might otherwise have from his whiny tone. 

“He’s a real scoundrel, the worst of them all.”

[shera-dnd]

And we are back, this time with some wonderful backstory for our favorite cat.

Also featuring Ozpin being his usual weird self and Adam being a cunt

AND ANGST

so all the things we love here

The night was dark and the rain was loud. An army could march around this human village, and would have been none the wiser. But the fae didn’t need an army to wipe them out, all they needed was a single woman with just enough hurt to compel the world to act.

The Black Cat emerged from the nearby woods. Her mission was clear in her mind, and her pain fresh in her heart. Silently she stalked through the night and circled the human village.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

With each full circle she recited the crimes of their people. The true names of those they had killed, the forests they burned, the villages they destroyed. And with each circle the shadows grew longer and darkness grew deeper. Threatening to engulf the village entirely.

It was when she had finished the third circle that she saw him. A man standing alone in the pouring rain, his smell both impossibly old and incredibly young. The man raised his cane, and The Black Cat flinched as she saw the glint of metal, but it soon became clear that it was made of silver, not iron. Then he brought his cane down.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And the shadows receded.

Though the Cat was certain that her magic still hid her from sight, the man looked into her eyes and addressed her directly.

“I was hoping to have a chat with one of your kind,” he spoke, more calmly than she liked.

Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was a need to assert her power over the strange human, but something spurred the Cat to emerge from the shadows. She stood up now on her hind legs, easily towering over the man.

“You’re rather bold, human,” she snarled.

“Just an old man who knows a thing or two about magic,” he answered.

She had heard about people like him. Humans who had learned the secrets of magic. “A wizard then? And you think your magic can protect this village?”

“I am hoping it will not come to that,” his tone was as calm as ever even as he stood within mawling range of the large fae.

“Again, very bold for a human,” she commented.

He smiled at that.

“Now, tell me,” he began, “why exactly are you turning your ire towards these people?”

The Cat growled, “they’re too close!”

“And yet, for each tree cut down, a new one is planted. For each animal hunted, their bones are buried in the woods. When a circle of mushrooms is found, we step around them,” he explained, and the cat could tell that his voice matched his smell more than his face, “we shun iron, and abide by the ancient ways. Surely, this is the sort of cohabitation that could not possibly offend our fae neighbors?”

His words touched the tiniest ember of hope that still hid in her heart. It was the most insignificant remnant of her life before she became unseelie, and for a moment it sparked with life. The Cat was quick to bury it under a mountain of contempt.

“The unseelie do not seek cohabitation,” she countered, “you’re too close!”

“Can we not convince you to change your mind?” The man asked, unwilling to let go of hope.

“You cannot atone for humanity’s sins,” she snarled.

The man let out a tired sigh, and for a moment looked so old she was convinced he would crumble to dust before her.

“Humanity is divided, my friend,” he argued, though that statement seemed to hurt him to say, “you’ve clearly met those who arm themselves in iron and march into your woods, I’m sure. Now you’ve met those like us. Are we not as different from one another as your courts?”

That quiets her. Though he was human, he echoed the words of a fae she had abandoned long ago. Another black cat whose strength of body was matched only by his strength of heart.

“You’ve been chatting with me far too long for a true member of the unseelie courts,” he commented.

She growled and bared her teeth at him.

“My apologies,” he replied, hand raised in surrender, “it was simply an observation.”

“I’ve made my choice!” She shouted, “I do not intend to change my mind.”

That caught his attention, “so you chose to walk the path of the unseelie.”

She should kill him. Slit his throat. Bite his head off. Poison him, and leave him to die, it didn’t really matter how. He was human -a threat - she should return him to nature then and there. But something about that felt wrong. Something in her still truly wanted to believe what he had to say.

So instead she answered, “yes.”

“And yet, you have your doubts,” he said, clearly seeing the conflict within her, “please, listen to them, listen to what your heart has to say.”

She hesitated, unsure of the path she should take.

“Why do you seek this alliance with our kind?” She asked.

“Because that is the right thing to do,” he spoke with true faith, and conviction behind every word. It felt strange and familiar all the same.

Once more his words rang true, and once more she felt those embers ignite.

“I would like to make a statement, in the near future,” he continued to explain himself, “of hope and goodwill, and of harmony with the natural world. I do not rule this kingdom, but its lords value my insight, and have agreed that perhaps it is time...that a fae joined our ranks.”

“Join you?” Her words didn’t sound like mockery, as much as she wanted them to, “am I to be your diplomat? Your Servant? Or perhaps there is some heir of yours you’ll have me marry.”

“No, no. Goodness, nothing of the sorts,” he answered with a hearty chuckle, “if you’ll allow me to explain. Our four kingdoms are guarded by four sacred orders of knights, each led by a witch who grants us small boons of magic when the times allow. Though their primary function is to commune with our vacant divines.”

“So you want a fae to take that role? A faery witch for an order of human knights?”

“That would maybe be too bold for my colleagues’ tastes,” he replied, “but there is an empty seat in the Order of the Fall Maiden, and we would be honored to have one of yours fill it.”

She studied him for a moment, pondering his words. Something about the man still unsettled her, something that made him…not fully human. She couldn’t quite tell what that something was, but it unsettled her.

“Am I to be your appointed knight?” She asked, quietly now, like the embers that were burning would snuff out if she spoke any louder.

“You are the one they call The Black Cat, yes? Blake, I believe was the name,” he asked, the name he offered was wrong, and he knew that, was he offering her a courtesy? “Well, I think you may be more than qualified for the role.”

Years ago ‘Blake’ would have taken that offer without a second thought. To be the bridge between her people and the humans, to usher in an era of peace and cooperation between their people, it would be the greatest honor. But too many years, too many scars made sure she couldn’t just trust their kind like that.

“And why would I accept your offer?” She demanded.

“We can grant you a boon,” he answered, “and the Fall Witch already has one in mind for you.”

Blake raised an eyebrow and the man smirked.

“We can make you immune to iron.”

~~~

That night Blake ran through hidden trails, and down non-existent paths. She leaped from shadow to shadow, through roots and branches, until she reached the one place humanity had never, and would never, touch. She was back home, with the unseelie, though she didn’t approach her people just yet.

She stalked at the edges of their home, looking for the one man she wished to speak to. Thankfully he was - as always - the center of attention, boasting about the blow they were about to strike against humanity, and how his lover would be the one to deliver it.

Huh, that word had never bothered her before now.

Getting his attention on the other hand was a bit harder, but she asked the wind to whisper his name for her. Though he did not stop his speech immediately, he at least seemed to notice her presence. Thankfully his boasting did not last much longer and soon he walked up to meet her.

“My love,” he greeted, full of pride, “by the smell of human on you, I take it your mission has gone perfectly.”

Taurus.

Her love.

A great blind bull, with fur as red as blood, his body scarred from iron brandings. He was the rage of the fae given form, the epitome of everything the unseelie believed. But right now, Blake had to hope he would be her lover first.

“The villagers still live, my love,” she replied, shrinking in shame.

“What!?” Anger flashed in his voice, but he soothed it quickly, “I mean...did something go wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Blake answered. Explaining things to Taurus would be a delicate process, she had to choose her words carefully, “the night answered my call at first, but the villagers…they had a wizard with them.”

He huffed at that word, “if he as much as touched you with his filthy human magic tricks I swear on the moon and stars I’ll--!”

“He didn’t!” She interrupted, trying to keep his rage from rising once again, “he only used his magic to stop mine. He didn’t want to fight me, he just wanted to talk.”

“The human wanted to talk?” He scoffed.

“Yes!” She insisted.

“Tell me you did not allow the human to poison you with his words,” his tone turned demeaning, in a way it did far too often in these recent months.

“He did not poison me!” She bit back, her own fury flaring at his condescension, “we spoke and he made me an offer.”

“How bold of him,” he mocked.

“Will you at least listen to what he had to say!?” Blake snapped, tired of his derision, “he offered me a chance to help stop an all out war between our people!”

“And you believed him?” He accused, “don’t you see what that means? They fear us, beloved. They know they cannot stop us if we go to war, so they try to trick us instead.”

“This is no trick, my love,” she insisted, “we can finally have peace.”

“I do not want peace!” Taurus shouted, “you think I will accept anything less than retribution? You think I will rest until I have my revenge?”

When had her love become so self centered?

It was as if a glamour had begun to crack in front of her, and she did not like what hid behind it.

“What about the rest of us? Are we not allowed to choose peace!?” She countered.

“My love, don’t you understand?” He asked, voice turning sickly sweet, “the humans are just trying to divide us. They know how strong we are, and they know they don’t stand a chance if we fight together. Their peace is nothing but a deception meant to weaken us.”

“But love--”

“See?” He interrupted, moving closer and gently holding her in his arms, “If they can make us argue like this, can you imagine how easily they would split our people?”

She pushed him away and growled, “you think me some child who can be swayed by some treats? You think I let those humans live because some old man with a fancy cane dangled a boon in front of me?”

That made him quiet down for a moment, and she had hoped he had seen reason, but she had no such luck.

“What boon?”

“He promised to take away our only weakness,” Blake answered, “make me immune to the touch of iron.”

And so Taurus laughed, “you believed that?”

“Yes!” She roared back, “and it’s my choice to offer him my trust. I did not come here to ask for your permission. I came here to let you know I would be leaving.”

“What!? You’re just gonna leave me like that? Gonna choose some human lie over your people? Over us!?” He accused, hand reaching to grab her.

Her tail whipped and poisonous thorns scratched at his skin. Her toxin would not kill him, but it still caused him terrible pain.

“If this is truly about us. If you really do love me, then say my name, Taurus!” Blake demanded. His name that had once tasted like love in her lips, now tasted of rage, and bitterness, it was an accusation, and a challenge. Show me that you love me, or leave me forever!

And so Taurus made the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

He hesitated, and that told her all she had to know.

He would never see her again.

[godkilller]

@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

          out of character.  DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !!  No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi  ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. )  The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

          I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

          Read more for length. I’m merciful.

          In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats  ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” )  and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie )  so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

          Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times  ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way )  and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

          Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

          THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

          And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away  ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand )  and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

          Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

          and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

          SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

          Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

          Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow!  ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction )  Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

          It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

          Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

          We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

          Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that  ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

          Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

          Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

          Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

          This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end. 

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

[mistersourwolf]

An Old Lovers Quarrel- Geralt x Reader

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: hints at nsfw but not really nsfw at all, angry reader?? I don’t really have many warnings for this actually

Summary: Y/N hunts monsters just like any witcher except she is human. She is directed to Blaviken, the town in which only bad memories are tied to her, but she is here to go against a mutant whom she was told was lurking in the shadows. While in Blaviken she comes across Geralt, an old lover, one she hadn’t seen since the accidental death of a friend. A death caused by Geralt. They reconnect towards the end of the story and honestly just read because I feel I went all sorts of directions with this one but it IS worth the read I promise.

A/N: This is so insanely long but please do give it a read and reblog if you can. It took me about a week to write this as I wasn’t sure which direction I wanted to go with this, just a heads up Josef is just a character I planted in there to help the story run a lot smoother. I hope you do like it though and any feedback is welcomes and I do apologize if the end seems a bit rushed I was just so eager to have a finished piece but yeah :))

It was only noon when you pushed through the doors of the tavern, eyeing the elves and humans who sat amongst each other. They were in peace living among each other and as you could see they each shared bits of their traditions and culture. Surely a lot had changed since you’d last been here. You waved your hand at Josef, the barkeep. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he quickly brought you a tankard, froth trickling down the side.

“You’ve returned, I wonder after all these years,” Josef leaned over the counter, smiling nastily, “what sort of devilry lingers in Blaviken?”

Sitting on the barstool, you took a swig of your ale and a cough rose from your lungs. “What is this? Goat piss?” You griped, wiping droplets of ale from your chin.

“I do remember you a particular one,” the barkeep grinned, “but honorable y/n, ‘tis the best ale in all of Blaviken.”

“I don’t doubt it, not a bit.” You sneered, glancing once more around the pub. “I’m looking for a witcher, one who‘s fond of hide and seek and I’ve no time for the antics of children.”

The barkeeps eyes widened at the mention of the brutish creature, a witcher, possibly in Blaviken.

“A mutant?” Josef quieted, “what business do you have with a beast like that?”

Your eyes narrowed, slightly offended by the barkeeps judgement for though you spited the witcher, you felt you were kindred spirits by divine will. You bit your tongue, saying nothing at all and taking a mouthful of that atrocious ale, forcing it down.

“Very well,” the barkeep continued, “You enjoy the ale.”

You watched him as he walked away, overlooking the tavern. Josef was an honest man, always considerably kind but an unapologetic brazen half-wit. It took a while for Josef to realize you were neither an elf, sorceress, or peasant but a simply a well respected human. One who sought out imminent dangers; to be precise you were the non-mutant witcher that even Witcher’s feared. A human hunter of all monstrosities that littered the world. Witcher’s didn’t belong on that list of horror but Geralt of Rivia held the honor of writing himself onto the non existent draft.

You finished up your ale, struggling to stomach the thickness of it but you managed, standing from your stool.

“Running off so soon?” The barkeep called out as you headed for the door, “You’ll come back to criticize more of my famed ale, will you?”

You turned towards him nodding, “My greatest pleasure in this town is downing tankards of your disgusting ale, Josef, I will return.”

The barkeep opened his mouth to speak but you never did hear his words as you rushed into the streets of Blaviken. Carts flew by you and you watched as the children played in the town, giggling maniacally. They had not a sliver of care in the world and you felt in the pit of your stomach the nostalgic feeling of being a know-nothing happy brat. It was years ago but still the memories of Sunday porridge with your mother as a girl were vivid. You stared into the crowds of people watching them disperse as the clacking of a horses trot rippled through the street. You watched the familiar horse emerge from the crowd and atop was a hooded figure. Your insides churned as your instincts told you who stood in front of you. You hurried behind a bush, placed conveniently by the tavern. Peeping from behind it you noticed the man jump from his mare, whispering to the animal. An odd, yet again, familiar thing to see. He turned away from the horse, trusting her to remain outside the tavern without so much as securing her to a pole. His pride radiated through each step he took. You winced hearing the door to the pub creak as he slowly entered, leaving your sight. You crept from the bush, brushing off the spiderwebs that must’ve been etched on the shrub and headed back inside the Tavern. You watched from inside the door as the witcher sat on a stool, dramatically pulling down his hood. Josef immediately approached the man with a tankard, as always overflowing with foam. The witcher took a swig of the awful concoction and a brutal hacking followed. You grinned, mentally telling Josef to shove Blavikens best ale up his ass. At that moment, you moved in on him, sitting on the neighboring stool.

Josefs eyes lit up seeing you back in the pub so soon but you stared him down coldly, sending a clear message not to bother you. You glanced over at the white-haired man, his eyes staring down at the bar top.

“Do you think I couldn’t sense you?” The witcher grimaced, “The hate you have for Blaviken, even the dead can feel your dread.”

You were startled by his sudden words which conveyed he remembered you well.

He raised his head to look at you, startling you as you forgot what it was to look him in his eyes which took on the bright bursting color of sunflower petals, a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange. It sent chills to your bones as you had forgotten how they could so easily penetrate the soul. You resisted shifting to puddy and instead held a strong stance, trying to get a read on him.

“That’s true, witcher,” you smiled, “I do pity this place. It is, after all, the place my mother and father abandoned me, where I was forced to kill my first monster and of course my biggest misfortune of all, where I met you.”

A frown masked his face, “I never meant any harm to—“

“You need not worry, witcher, I’m not here to avenge him. As much as I rightfully should, my hands will not command my dagger to be held against you.” you explained.

“So why trouble yourself to travel all the way to Blaviken?” He sighed. “I’ve not known you to come in peace.”

“Actually you’ve not known me at all, witcher.” You smiled nastily, “But if you must know, I’ve come seeking another mutant like yourself,“

Geralt looked taken back, assuming you were suggesting another witcher.

“Well, not exactly like yourself since this one is cursed. Birthed by her mother on the eclipse.” You explained watching Geralt drink from his tankard once more. He must’ve forgotten the taste of it as you watched his face contorted in horrific disgust.

“So I’ve heard,” He slid his cup away from him. “She comes for Stregabor, by the name of Renfri and from what he tells me, I see why she would pursue his demise. The Bastard.” He sneered.

“Well, I’m inquiring your help, Geralt, help me kill the—“

Geralts lips slightly turned upwards almost as if he were trying to smile, “I have a code, you’re forgetting but I do remember you an eager one.”

“I’ve heard particular now eager, I guess I leave quite an impression.” you grinned but the sound of the tavern doors swinging open caused you to turn your head. In walked a thin, lenient woman, her hair cut in a shapely bob made her way to the bar top.

“Josef!” She called out, “Two tankards, extra froth how I like it.”

The barkeep fumbled for the tankards, nervous in her presence. You turned back around facing Geralt, “You and I must be the only ones with any good taste in ale.”

Geralt watched the girl as she walked over to the two of you.

The brunette spoke up, “Well isn’t this the most prime example of opposites attracting? You two are together I assume?”

You disagreed shaking your head and letting a laugh rip from your lungs, “Not in his wildest dreams.”

The witcher grunted, amused knowing he already had you, long ago before your quarrel sent you both on separate paths.

She chimed in again, “Then it won’t be any trouble to steal your seat, will it?”

You felt jealousy stir in the pit of your stomach but calmed it, standing from your seat. Usually you would have twisted her arm and made her regret ever asking such a thing—to give up your seat so her entitled, everyone-loves-me self could have a seat next to him..but you were so sick of the impressions you made. Geralt tried to hold back a smug grin but couldn’t, knowing you were resisting your rage. You sat down the line from the two as she began making conversation with Geralt.

You noticed his eyes meeting yours every so often as she talked his ear off. Eventually his looks became focused on only her as you pestered Josef for more tankards of his shitty ale.

“Who is that?” You asked him, taking the cup from his hand.

His eyes gleamed at the sight of her, entranced by her very existence, “That is our beloved Renfri,” Your eyes widened at the mention of her name, this was the girl you’d been looking for. “been coming here these past few weeks and business is thriving more than it has in the last decade.”

You nodded at Josef, sipping your ale as you watched Geralt listen fondly to the girl. What did she want from him? You watched as they stood up from their stools, placing their tips on the bar top. Geralt made eye contact with you as he followed her out of the bar, seemingly to magnify you jealousy. It worked and you were certainly angered but again so sick of the first impressions you made.

For the rest of the evening, unsure of where the witcher and the girl had run off to, you sat at Josef’s tavern. By six o clock you were on your seventh tankard and booze practically seeped from your pores. Seeing Geralt brought back memories, ones you tried desperately to shove in the back of your mind. He had brought up the boy, the boy whom was loved so dearly in the village, the boy whom you had grown close to after your family left you to the streets of Blaviken. But as soon as memories of him surfaced you drowned them in the sea of your trauma, or in booze. Right now it was booze. You stumbled to your feet, slamming your coins on the surface of the bar.

“I knew I should’ve stopped you at tankard number three, y/n.” The barkeep said causing you to laughed obnoxiously, your breath reeking of ale.

“Take your coin and go to hell, my old friend.” You slurred, a stupid grin on your face. Your legs felt like jell-o as you headed towards the tavern door. Multiple times, you leaned onto the bar top to ensure your balance. You cursed at Geralt, pissed he had left you all alone at the pub. He owed you nothing but your stomach turned as you thought of the looks Renfri gave Geralt. You pushed through the doors into the evening landscape, a hand over your stomach as you retched, all the contents emptying from your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you stood upright again. You looked along the path heading to a local inn, it was going to be a difficult walk being as drunk as you were. However you made your way down the path receiving multiple stares from peasants, workmen, even children were disgusted by your souring look. You were far too lost in your head to even hear the trotting of a horse behind you, but the rider caught your attention shortly.

“You,” He said annoyed, “are not sober in the slightest. What have you gotten yourself into?” It was Geralt, seemingly concerned.

“Well, well,” you stumbled against him, “if it isn’t the absentee witcher.”

“Seriously y/n? What the fucking hell?” He grumbled, wrapping an arm around you and leading you to his horse.

“Yep,” you grinned, “What the fucking hell Geralt, you murdered an innocent boy.”

Geralt paused, glancing over at you who giggled idiotically, clearly unaware of what you were saying.

“Come on,” he muttered, throwing you on top his horse and then joining you. “Don’t fall.”

As the horse began to trot along the path again, your body rattled against Geralts. Your arms gripped tightly around his torso, terrified of falling from the horse. You were extremely intoxicated and so the scent of picked berries from the local shops made you feel hunger at a peak. He glanced every so often to make sure you were still awake and able to maintain your grip. The ride wasn’t long, only a few minutes compared to what would’ve taken you hours. Geralt leaped from his horse, immediately pulling you off and hurrying towards the inn. You stumbled down the halls of the inn, walking to your room. Geralt sighed annoyed by you as you fumbled in your back pockets, searching for what seemed like eternity for your room key.

Once inside, you ran towards your bed, jumping backwards onto it. The witcher was not amused, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You should get some rest,” He suggested, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. “If you want to get to Renfri in the morning.”

You sat up, eyeing him as he walked across the room, looking at your things. “Now you want to kill her, why the sudden change of heart?”

“I will not touch her, but I cannot stop you from killing her and I won’t let her kill you.” He admitted, hinting you were of importance to him.

“That’s endearing,” you stuttered, “to know I have your permission, tell me Geralt, did you ask my permission when you slaughtered the—“

“I know what he meant to you!” Geralt yelled, throwing a piece of china across the room. It shattered against the wall, not even earning a flinch from you. “When will you see it was not my intention? You brought him there when you knew—“

“How was I to know she was a Bruxa?” You raised your voice at him, “how was I to know she forged a bond with him? That he would try to protect her?” Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Geralt grew quiet, ashamed that he tried to blame what had happened on you. You blinked, staring up at the ceiling in attempt to resist gravity. But you failed and multiple tears slid down your cheeks, now flustered and taking on a pinkish-red tone. Geralt walked over to you, sitting beside you. Silence with Geralt always was the opposite—horrendously loud. You know how he was feeling without him having to say it, and you leaned into him. His arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder, giving a small squeeze as you wiped your tears.

“I thought it would be easier to hate you but instead I’ve only had to suffer this loss alone.” You sniffled, your head still spinning from the excess amount of ale you had consumed.

“It’s easier to shift blame where it doesn’t belong than to accept a fate that we hate.” He said, clearing his throat at the end. “Just sleep. We will ride back into town at dawn.” Geralt pulled away, letting you lay back into your bed.

Geralt hadn’t even left your bed before you were fast asleep. He chuckled to himself, knowing you were sure to have an awful headache in the morning. Grabbing a spare pillow from your bed, he threw it onto the floor and stretched out on the floorboards. That evening he couldn’t sleep, his mind occupied by the days events. By sunrise, he was laying beside you, watching you in your peaceful slumber before you’d have to face the pain of a hangover.

You stirred in your sleep, squinting your eyes tightly as the bright sun illuminated the room. You groaned rolling over and to your surprise onto Geralts chest. You raised your head slowly, glaring at the witcher who peered down at you.

“I don’t imagine we...?” You hinted to the witcher, rolling your eyes as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Geralt smirked, “Not in my wildest dreams, I was once told.”

You rolled over off of Geralt, sitting up. As soon as you sat upright, a sharp pain beat against your temples. You groaned, massaging both sides of your head with your fingertips.

“Damn it.” you winced, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

“I might have something for you,” the witcher said, getting up from the bed and walking to his bag. “Here.” He said, pulling out a small bottle which was sealed with a cork.

You read the bottle which was a mix of Rosemary, Ginger and something you couldn’t even try to pronounce. You assumed it must’ve been a healing ingredient as the two herbs were easy enough to say.

“I trust this isn’t poison, but then again you do seek out the innocent.” You groaned, chugging the mixture down. The taste was horrifying and the texture even more so.

Geralt remembered your conversation from last night, realizing you were too drunk to remember. “You are miles from innocent and if it was poison I’d drink it myself if it meant not enduring your wit.”

You scoffed, walking towards your bag and grabbing a fresh pair of clothes. You didn’t bothering asking him to turn around as it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. His eyes tried to look in any other direction but he failed, coming back to your figure as you slipped your freshly cleaned shirt over your torso. You decided to keep your previous pants on as they were best to fight in and you knew there would be bloodshed today, whether it was your own or Renfri’s you did not know.

“Well, Come on then.” You said hiding a dagger in your boot and sliding your sword into your scabbard. You left the inn with Geralt behind you, following.

Geralt walked to Roach, talking as usual to the mare. “She’s a little bitter today, Roach, I apologize in advance.”

You kicked gently at Geralt, “It is impolite to gossip, now may we get going, witcher?”

Geralt smirked, climbing atop the horse as did you. Soon you reached the busy town of Blaviken, as usual children ran back and forth in the streets, racing their friends. Families walked together from shop to shop, seeing the same things they do any other day. Partially the reason you hated Blaviken was because nothing ever changed in the town. The people were the same for generations, the towns ale never got better, always a disgusting mixture easily comparable to piss, children were filthy and the shops worn down.

The tavern was in sight and in moments you were climbing down from Roach along with Geralt. Your headache had eased and nausea had subsided, it seems the remedy Geralt had given you was true to its purpose. You felt more lively than ever walking into the Tavern. Josef met eyes with you, ignoring Geralts brooding presence. “Surely you’re not back for another drink? This early?”

You smiled at Josef, his eyes a chilling blue-grey. “I don’t think I’ll drink for another decade, Josef,” you chuckled, “Have you seen Renfri?”

“Whats it to you?” The barkeep spoke in her defense, odd as you were his oldest friend. You grew up with Josef, his mother and yours were close friends up until she bolted from Blaviken.

“She’s a friend of mine.” You smiled, convincing him it was only of interest of you to reunite with an old friend. He didn’t seem very convinced, pulling back his lip unsure.

“You two didn’t seem that good of friends yester—“ Josef started only to be cut off by Geralt reaching across the bar top, gripping Josef tightly by his head of hair and slamming his head down on the bar top. The barkeep winced and you tugged at Geralts arm, worried for Josef.

“Alright, what has Josef done this time?” A voice called out from behind you two. You turned around but Geralt only shifted his body, still gripping Josef’s hair. The dainty brunette stood before both you and Geralt.

“They’re looking for—“ Josef tried to speak but Geralt slammed his head into the bar top once more, knocking him out this time. You nudged Geralt harshly, muttering some curse words.

“Now Josef is a good fellow, he doesn’t deserve to be attacked in his own pub, have you no manners witcher?” Renfri stepped closer to the witcher, her hand swiftly crossing his chest, “Oh yes, I do remember from last night you had quite the manners.”

You shot a glare at Geralt who avoided your stare as if he could sense the anger building inside you again. He gently pushed the brunette back so she wasn’t standing so close.

“Well it seems you aren’t the one looking for me so what do you want?” She said turning towards you, looking at you as if you were a peasant. It humbled you as you don’t recall the last time someone had a gaze like hers.

“Something very simple,” you murmured, now wanting her dead more than ever. “A gift for the queen, your head on a platter.” You grabbed the hilt of your sword, pulling it from its sheath.

Screams emerged from the crowd and in seconds the only ones who stood in the tavern were you, Renfri and the witcher. She was just as quick as you, whistling before unsheathing her own sword. A mob of men came from the shadows of the tavern, standing against you as well. Geralt gripped his sword, walking towards the men to fend them off. Your sword clashed with Renfris as your feet danced on the floor with her. Her weapon slashed through the air and you ducked under swiftly, slicing her side. She didn’t skip a beat, spinning around and aiming behind your legs. You jumped over her sword, feeling the sharp edge knick your achilles but not deep enough to disable you. You heard the agonizing screams of Renfris goons, Geralt was slaughtering each one of them and Renfri fell distracted by this. You took the opportunity to slash across her chest which she fell back from, her sword fell from her hands and you jumped on top of her, holding your sword to her throat. She leaned into the blade, which cut slightly into her throat. With a quick movement, her head butted against you making you fall back onto your ass. You winced, feeling a sensation similar to your hangover. You leapt back up, clutching your sword tightly as she fumbled for hers. You two stood on opposing sides of the table, circling it with your swords pressing against each other’s, each of you applying all your strength to overthrow each other. Suddenly, one of Renfris men fell into the table, breaking the barrier between you two. You swooped down in a pirouette slicing the back of her thigh.

“Agh!” She yelled, but continued to work her sword. She would not back down and was persistent despite her bleeding injuries. With one final clash, she knocked your sword from your hands. You stumbled back, hitting your head against the hard floor. In seconds she climbed on top of you, her legs on either side of you as she pressed her own sword firmly against your neck just as you did to her moments ago.

“You’ve come for my head and now it seems I’ll have yours.” She quipped, a strong hatred in her eyes, “I do hope this isn’t over the witcher, but bless his soul he knows how to pleas—.”

Her body arched above you as you watched a sword rip through her upper abdomen. Blood dripped onto you as she collapsed over you but not before being kicked aside by none other than Geralt. He offered you a hand but you refused, standing to your feet just fine in your own.

“Y/n, what she said..” Geralt tried to explain but you didn’t let him. You pushed his chest shoving him back, then again and again.

“I ask you to help me kill her and you decide to fuck her instead?!” You shouted furiously, giving one last final shove. Geralt said nothing but gave you eyes of sorrow, those eyes you could no longer stomach to look at.

“You think you’re gonna save my life and have me leap into your arms?” You yelled, truly wondering his thought process, “You are pathetic.”

You ran out of the tavern, a strong urge to burst into tears but you couldn’t. For whatever reason, you just couldn’t.

Geralt rushed after you, “Let me take you to the inn, it is too cold to walk, you’ll freeze.”

“I wonder, will you attempt to warm me as you did her?” You scoffed, crossing your arms, it really was cold.

Geralt stared at you as you avoided his eyes, his beautiful bright yet dark and sad eyes. “You don’t understand, she’s a mutant, one who enchants men she comes across—“

“Oh poor you, the mighty Geralt of Rivia, fallen victim to a scummy brunette.” You laughed as if that was masking your anger but even Geralt knew the dangers of a woman laughing when upset.

“I’m a witcher, y/n, but I’m not immune to magic, no,” he grew agitated by your rudeness, “but I did everything I could to resist.”

You cursed under your breath, finally looking at him. His eyes spoke volumes of guilt, unaware Witcher’s could even feel guilt. Saying nothing to him, you mounted yourself on Roach. As Geralt joined you on top the horse, your arms instinctively wrapped around his torso causing him to turn his head to the side, watching the outline of your figure lean against him for support. A small smile creeped along his lips, though he didn’t let you see it.

Arriving at the inn, you entered your room which felt like heaven as a blanket of warmth wrapped around you. You grew hot from the sudden shift in temperature and immediately stripped despite Geralt being there. He paid no attention to you though not wanting to hear any remarks from you. He then did the same except he only removed his armor and shoes, nothing else. You put something less bloody and looser on, feeling much better after the wardrobe change. The two of you said nothing on the way to the inn and even moments after sitting in your room. He wandered your room aimlessly, looking for nothing in particular but noticing everything. He came across an instrument hidden in the corner of your room beside your bed. He picked it up carefully, he was reminiscing and made it no secret.

“I know a bard who would treasure a lute of this woodwork.” He said softly, strumming his fingers in one swift motion. You looked at him, holding the dainty instrument in his arms.

“It belonged to—Its the only thing I have left of him.” You were hesitant but smiled at the thought of him, the boy who you’d been best friends with for years. You didn’t know how to play the damn thing but it was something he had always talked about teaching you one day. “What’s this bards name?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said placing the lute back in its original place, “I came across him a few years after our parting and it would be a dishonor to say he’s a persistent one. He is far more than persistent.” Geralt cracked a small smile thinking of his friend.

“Is he human?” You asked.

“He is, yes. He would drive you mad, I know that much.” Geralt walked over sitting on the bed beside you.

“You really didn’t feel anything for her did you Geralt?” You asked shyly, knowing it shouldn’t even matter to you. You left him years ago after the incident, it was you who made the choice to part ways with him. He reached out, tilting your chin towards him.

“Nothing more than magic tethered me to her,” he said, assuring you it was nothing to do with chemistry but manipulation. “I’ve never fought anything so strong but I did and if I had to I’d do it again.”

Your heart warmed hearing this from your witcher, the witcher who was usually not so open with his feelings. You had that power over him and always did. You two were open books with each other and despising him all these years just set you up to melt right into his hands. You forgot the connection between you and the witcher through all of your quarrel.

“I know,” you admitted, feeling a rush of emotions. “and I-I’ve missed you.”

Geralt tilted his head down, pressing his lips to yours. You leaned into the kiss, draping your arms over his shoulders, intertwining your fingers behind him. You pulled him on top of you as you laid into your mattress. His lips were hungry and each kiss more ambitious than the last. He broke the kiss crossing his arms and pulling his shirt over his head revealing a broad chest. You missed every part of him and having been apart from him all these years tore your heart just thinking about it. But you didn’t, you focused on his fingers gripping your hips and tugging at the hem of your shirt. He slid the shirt over your head, revealing your proportioned figure. He missed the sight of you beneath him and what would follow these moments would be a pleasurable reconnection, one of kindred souls.

You laid breathlessly on his chest, tracing patterns on his skin. He hummed as you did this, his eyes fluttering in and out. It had been long since he had slept but he was calm and at rest. The morning sun still lit the room, and you had forgotten it was only a few hours past sunrise.

“So,” you said calmly, breathing in his scent, one you missed dearly. “When can I meet your beloved friend?”

Geralts eyes opened at this, a smirk on his lips, “I don’t think friend is quite the term for Jaskier, more of a pleasant nuisance.”

You smiled, propping yourself up on a pillow “Then fine, when can I meet this nuisance?” You corrected yourself, running your fingers through the Witcher’s pearl colored hair.

“If nothing is waiting for you after Blaviken then come with me.” Geralt said staring at the ceiling above him. You leaned over planting a kiss on his lips, smiling broadly. Laying back into his arms, you watched as he fell into a deep sleep. You soon followed and fell into a dream state on top of the man who you thought you would hate forever. But as a dear friend once said to you, your fate is written and those who are fated for each other find each other in the most vulnerable times.

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Lost or Lying

The original request: “Hi if you’re still taking requests, can I request a one shot with Bo thinking reader escaped and gets  really angry with reader which leads into a screaming match between the two.”

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: yelling/fighting(non-violent), language, angst and a little fluff

A/N: Sorry this took forever! I just re-watched House of Wax and it sparked the inspiration I needed to do this right. Hope it’s okay! Listened to Slow Down-Poolside // Devil in Paradise-Cruel Youth // A lot of Thom Yorke while finishing this up.

You had been wanting some time to yourself lately and the universe had decided to give it to you in spades.

A simple stroll down what had looked to be a well-worn trail had turned into an all day hike was now morphing into admitting to yourself that you were lost. And dead, if you ever found your way back to town.

Bo had been the last of the Sinclair brothers to trust you being out and about on your own and even then, he would not so subtly keep an eye on you. Like you might disappear if he even so much as blinked.

So this, being gone for hours, would probably land you in hot wax. Literally.

Stopping for the millionth time to try and recognize your surroundings, a thought popped into your head. What if you didn't go back? What if you just kept walking, you'd eventually either come to some road or wind back up in Ambrose.

The thought left a sour taste in your mouth.

Sure you and the boys had gotten off to a less than great start, Lester not included. You had liked him the instant he'd offered you a ride to the nearest town for help with your car dead on the side of the road.

He was a talker with not many people to listen to him, which you understood on some level, and now looking back on that first conversation it was almost obvious how clearly unsettled he was about letting you walk unawares into Ambrose.

Too little, too late and all that you guessed.

Sighing, you looked up, glancing through the leaves to watch heavy, dark clouds slowly spreading themselves across the sky. Great. Just what you needed, a storm.

You kept going, trying to leave signs that you'd been past a certain place with broken branches. It made you feel better for a while, until you ran into them, stomping by the snapped wood like it had personally offended you.

When it started to rain, you resorted to yelling. Hair dripping wet, clothes soaked through and shivering like a chihuahua as you were pelted by rain. You simply kept yourself from running into trees and screamed out Bo, Vincent, and Lester's names like a broken record.

Eventually that became difficult with the way your teeth were chattering, your lips feeling more numb by the minute. You must have stopped at some point because all you could hear was the far off roll of thunder and barking.

Barking? Barking meant dogs which meant-

"Mite!" the voice that left your throat made you wince, hoarse and hopeful at the same time.

The barking got louder, so you shouted again, planting your feet in the slippery ground and waiting for the little barrel of black and white fur to come shooting out of the underbrush as the barking got closer.

She nearly knocked you over when she appeared, paws muddy and looking as soaked as you felt. But her tail was wagging and you'd never been so happy to smell wet dog in your entire life.

"Let's go home! Go home Mite!" you told her and she just about herded you all the way back.

The streets were slightly flooded but the whole town was lit up. Like a lighthouse on the shore, a warning and a safe haven. The gas station was empty as you jogged past it, trying to keep an excited Mite in your view. The yellow tow truck was gone too. Shit.

The house was the same, all the lights on but no one home. Once inside Mite shook off, giving the walls a good spray of dog water before she pranced off in search of someone to show what she had found. The muddy paw prints she was tracking around were the least of your worries.

You peeled off your shoes before trekking over to the kitchen, leaving a trail of puddles in your wake. Still shivering, you wrung out your hair over the sink and pulled out what few rags you could find and went in search of Mite.

When you reached the foot of the stairs you heard an engine pull in the drive. You couldn't be sure who it belonged to with the noise of the storm so you braced yourself, shivering and no doubt looking like a drowned rat caught holding stolen food.

No amount of bracing would do you any good though, not when the door practically flew open to let in Bo.

You don't think he even saw you at first with the way his eyes darted around the room, ghosting right over you as he slammed the door shut behind him, pacing around like a caged animal. You wondered if you just stayed still enough, maybe he wouldn't notice you.

You had never been that lucky.

You knew it was bad when he didn't immediately begin yelling. He just stared at you, blue eyes burning a hole straight through you. Jaw clenched so tight you worried he might crack a tooth. It was a miracle you didn't run purely out of instinct.

"Where the hell have you been."

Oh yeah. This was a new level of mad. His low, even growl of a question sending goosebumps up your already chilled skin.

"I just g-"

"Where the fuck did you think you were gonna get to?" he crossed the space between you two in less than three steps, each one raising your hackles further.

"I wasn't going anywhere" you held your ground even as he came to a stop right in front of you, giving you no space.

"Bullshit! You were gone for hours, had all of us runnin' around lookin' for your ass! And you were off doing what?! Leaving!"

Ah, there was the yelling. You dug your heels in just a little deeper.

"No, I went out for a walk and got lost and it started raining and-"

"Don't you fucking lie to me, I knew the second we let you out you'd run. The second you got a chance! Gone!" Bo had stepped even closer, pushing you back until you could feel the sharp corner of the wall dig into your spine.

"I wasn't trying to run away! I took a trail, I got lost and Mite found me. That's it!"

"So I'm jus' supposed to believe you were out there, no one to keep you from running and you didn't huh? You just walked in circles 'til you realized you couldn't find your way out!"

"I got fucking lost! Okay?! I. Got. Lost!" you had properly lost all energy to stay calm, Bo wasn't, so why should you? "I've been locked up in this house or at the station for months! No time alone, like a fucking dog! Hell, the dog has more freedom than me! Can you blame me for wanting some time to myself?!"

"Freedom! You shoulda' been dead the second you set foot in this town!" you could feel the hot puff of his breath across your face, foreheads nearly touching.

"That's not my fault! You're the one in charge around here aren't you? Just kill me now and you won't have to worry about me anymore!"

You had barely gotten the last word out before you felt the sharp tug of Bo's hands tangling themselves in your stringy, wet hair. It almost felt tender, like he was cradling the base of your skull, about to kiss you. Except the hold was too tight, stinging where blunt nails scraped your scalp and held you in place with the pressure on the back of your neck.

The rags you had clutched in your hands dropped silently to the ground when you curled your hands around his forearms, not that you could pry him off you.

A small droplet of water fell onto your face from Bo's damp hair.

You thought he might take you up on the offer right then and there. The set of his shoulders, the way he could so easily shift his hands and wrap them around your throat. But you'd spent plenty of time around Bo Sinclair, enough to be able to see what he was hiding behind all the rage and yelling.

He was worried. Maybe even scared.

Lester had told you, albeit hesitantly, how nice it was to have you around, to have someone to talk with.

Vincent had taken longer to express the same to you, and not in so many words, but it was there all the same. You had a collection of small wax figurines to show for it.

Bo treated you like a kid that needed to be watched, like you were going to stick your hand on a hot stove if left alone too long. He complained when you asked too many questions about what he was working on when you were in the station with him but he usually answered you.

He was a lot of bark, with an equal amount of bite, when it came to taking care of this town. Even his brothers, in his own messed up way.

"You really think I'd leave?" the words finally manage their way out of your mouth, rasping and quiet in the wake of the shouting match.

"That's a stupid question" Bo snaps.

"Would you miss me?"

"No."

"Liar."

Bo gives no warning before pulling your face up to his and kisses you. It's not soft, it's angry and suffocating and you can feel it in your gut when he bites your bottom lip, tugging none to gently until you finally part your lips enough to get a taste of him.

He tastes like rain and cigarettes.

You lean into him, standing up on tiptoes, and hum at the way he tugs you back far enough for your lips to be a hairs breath apart.

"I should get lost more often" you say a bit breathless, trying not to smirk.

Bo simply glares at you for a moment before crushing his lips back to yours.

You weren't going anywhere for a while.

[thiswasinevitableid]

82, Sternclay, NSFW if possible? Ty so much for all your great fics <3 -☀️

You’re welcome! I hope you enjoy the fill. It’s NSFW, and involves mating cycles, because my A03 stats suggest a lot of y’all like that.

82. you knock on my door at 2 in the morning because your very white cat got out and you need help trying to find them in the three feet of snow we have

He has no one but himself to blame. 

Stern is always so careful about shutting the doors in this cabin, as the old hinges and worn frames can send them swinging open when coupled with a strong wind. He thought he had that same care when he came in with more firewood from the basement, which can only be accessed through by going out of the house and then down to the locked door. 

Apparently not. At one, he went to check on Yeti and found the back door open and the faintest shape of feline paws leading into the darkness. 

They’ve got two feet of snow on the ground, with another foot forecasted to fall by morning. And Yeti is sleek and snow-white.

He’s wandered the perimeter of the house, left her favorite blanket out on the covered porch, and tried in vain to follow the tracks, filled in by the falling snow. He’s been outside for an hour now, with no sign of her. Not even the jingle of her collar in the cold air. He’s shivering, but he can’t stop the search; Yeti is out here, cold and scared and it’s all his fault. 

As he’s crunching through the snow, warm light spills onto the trees. His neighbors  (a loose term out here) house. He couldn’t stand waking Barclay up to help him, but if he’s already awake…

Stern raps on the door, and four seconds later it opens, his neighbor looking like a lumberjack centerfold given life, even in his sweatpants and brown sweater. 

“Joe? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Yeti, she got out without me noticing and I can’t find her, I’ve been out here an hour and there’s no sign. I, um, I know it’s a stretch but can you help me look for her? We can cover more ground that way.”

Barclay gives a small, worried smile as he nods, “Yeah, of course, lemme get enough on so that I don’t freeze and I’ll join you.” 

He waves Stern inside, passes him a box of tissues before disappearing upstairs. Here he’d hoped the tears from his brief panic and self-blame spiral hadn’t left evidence. He’s good in a crisis, has handled much more stressful incidents with grace and calm. But for some reason every time he musters up those emotions, gult rips them to shreds. Yeti is his to look after, he’s supposed to keep her safe, and one careless move has her out in the woods, in freezing weather, with predators, or thin ice, or, or, or-

His brain is excellent at generating contingency plans on the fly, but tonight it directs that ability to making him think about all the bad things his error could cause. 

“Okay, got my headlamp so I can keep my hands free. You got a light?”

Joe holds up his flashlight.

“C’mon, let’s go find the Yeti.” They set off side by side in the snow, “where do you want to look?”

“Fan out near the creek, I think. The snow isn’t as deep there, so she might have gone that way because it was easier to move.”

“She’s a climber, right? So how about this; we go on either side of the creek, you look on the ground and I’ll look in the trees?”

“That makes sense.” 

It’s slow going, both of them being meticulous, shining their lights on every branch or under every bush. Stern’s always appreciated how careful Barclay is; he assumes it comes with a profession where being messy slows you down, but the first time he saw his well-organized kitchen his heart did a little dance of delight. 

In the month and a half he’s lived here, the cook invites him over at least twice a week to try out a recipe. He works at Amnesty Lodge in the nearby town of Kepler, and spends some of his nights there. Still, he’s at his cabin often enough that Stern’s been able to invite him over some evenings. Though it’s odd he’s up so late on a work night.

“Do you not have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this week off. I have some vacation time and when I get back it’ll be the holiday break rush until New Years. I got caught up in the latest Agent X novel and didn’t see how late it was until you knocked. How about you, staying up researching again?”

“Yes. I was trying to keep the fire going because it’s nice to work in that little living room but, um, going out to get the wood is how she got out. If I’d just gone to bed-”

“Whoah, hey, none of that.” Barclay stops, turning to face him, “shit happens, even when you’re careful. This isn’t your fault, Joe.”

“I know. It still feels that way.” He starts forward again, feet freezing in spite of his snowboots (chosen for optimal weight to insulation ratio). Part of him wants to keep talking, because Barclay is interesting to talk to, his years playing “Lodge dad” giving him endless anecdotes and the ability to be honest without being cruel. 

It helps that his baritone voice makes Stern think of brown sugar; rich, complex, just the right kind of sweet. 

After a solid hour of searching, Stern is so cold he’s having trouble getting words out. Barclay sets a big hand on his shoulder, guiding them towards Sterns cabin.

“Joe, you’ve gotta take a break. Worried your lips are gonna go as blue as your eyes, and then tonight will really suck.”

“But I haven’t found her.”

“And you won’t if you freeze to death or get so chilled you can’t think straight. At least sleep for a few hours.”

Stern’s about to protest as they reach the door, but then his knees buckle and he slumps against a broad chest.

“I’ll do one more spin into the deeper woods on my way home, and leave some blankets out on the porch in case she makes her way to me. She’s smart, just like her owner; I think she’ll get home okay.”

“Right. Okay. We’ll be okay.” 

Barclay hesitates mid motion, then pulls Stern into a hug. Stern is not small, and at Six feet zero inches he’s used to being the tallest person in a room. Barclay always feels like he’s dwarfing him, though right now that’s the most comforting sensation in the world. 

“I’ll check by in the morning.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He mumbles into Barclay’s scarf.

“Any time, Joe.”

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

Barclay waits until Joe is inside and the upstairs light switches on to leave the back porch. God, it’s so fucking cold tonight. He doesn’t blame Yeti for getting curious, but she could’ve picked a less awful time to do it.

He’s glad the other man came to him for help; he hates the idea of Joe out here alone and stressed, searching carefully and kicking himself the whole time. He’s glad Joe took the suggestion to sleep. 

He’s glad the other man came to be his neighbor. 

Ironically, they’d met when Joe came over and asked to borrow a cup of sugar. The dark-haired man was short on what he needed to cook, and Barclay was happy to supply it. It’s not everyday a cute guy asked him for some sugar. 

They ran across each other in town, and Joe even came to eat at the Lodge, usually at off hours where Barclay had a chance to talk. That’s how he learned Joe was here to research a recent Bigfoot sighting. 

“I used to be in the FBI, investigating the same thing. Then I got so frustrated, no one really believed in the possibility of unknown creatures, and the few who did saw them as having some sort of use to the department of defense. Great idea, find something so rare it’s existence is unproven, and then lock it away or blow it up.” The sip of coffee is more aggressive than usual. 

“Won’t they get mad if you spill their secrets?” It was only half a joke. 

“I doubt it. They weren’t too interested in my theories when I worked there; odds are they’ll keep an eye on me a little while and then ignore me. Unless I find Bigfoot, of course, in which case they may want me back. I’m not interested, from now on I monster hunt in the name of science.”

Barclay hopes Stern never finds Bigfoot and stays in his cabin, writing and researching and consulting and coming over to Barclay’s for dinner twice a week. He has a whole menu in his mind titled, “foods for seducing Joe” that he’s going to whip out in the next few weeks, he swears it. 

He’s been swearing it for two weeks. 

Joe is sophisticated, smart, has really good taste in books and food, and Barclay feels so listened to when they talk. Barclay starts blushing whenever Joe smiles at him, which would be embarrassing except Joe does the same thing whenever Barclay drops his voice a little. Besides, he likes it when Joe smiles. 

Barclay would give anything to make Joe smile tonight. Which is why he’s tromping into the spot where they lost the last of Yeti’s footprints. He stands, listening for any sign of human life. 

Then he slips the woven bracelet off his hand, and his foot-prints almost double in size. 

It’s a bad idea, he’s not all that far from other houses or the road, but in this form his sense of smell is twice as strong and his night-vision a bit sharper. It’s also the reason he’s taking this week off work. Yes, he likes to rest up before the winter rush; but his heat, which comes ever fourteen years, is due in the next few days. He’s actually a little worried turning into his Sylph self will make his brain fuzzy enough to forget his mission. So he reminds himself, as he tromps through the growing blizzard, that he is doing this for the person he’d most like to impress in this world, and that does the trick. 

A whiff of the same, non-human scent he stole a noseful of when hugging Joe catches his attention. He follows it to a disused burrow, gets down on his belly, and finds reflective eyes blinking back at him. 

The animal hisses. 

“Man, please be Yeti and not a bobcat. Duck’s gonna fucking kill me if I harass the wildlife.” He reaches into the burrow and hears a telltale jingle. Yeti, surrendering to her fate, goes limp in his hold. When he puts her against his chest she chirps, curiously sniffing him. As soon as the bracelet is on she blinks once, then purrs as he bundles her into his coat. She’s cold and damp, but she’s in one piece. 

“C’mon cousin, let’s get you home.”

The lights are all still one, and the front door is wedged open the exact amount a cat would need to get inside. He steps in, kicks the wedge free and shuts the door. The fire is low, and there’s no sound of anyone moving around. 

“Joe? Whoa, careful Yeti, I know you wanna get warm but we should show him your okay.”

“Mew!” Yeti bites the fringe of his scarf. 

He tries again, “Joe, you still up? Got someone for you?”

A scuff and groan from the kitchen, “Huh? Oh, shit, I fell asleep, one second”

Yeti shifts her focus while Barclay is distracted. In one graceful leap she rips his bracelet away, lands, and bounds to the kitchen.

“Yeti! Thank the lord, there you are my little cryptid, I was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again, thank god you’re okay.��� Joe’s voice goes muffled, as if he’s holding the cat to his face and talking into her fur. Barclay is frozen, not wanting to be seen but even less wanting to have Joe spot Bigfoot dashing into the trees. 

“What do you have--Yeti, it’s rude to take things from the man who saved you from being-” Joe rounds the corner, cat in his arms, and gasps. Yeti, uninterested in the unfolding drama, tumps to the floor and scampers upstairs. Joe’s hands fly over his mouth the instant she’s no longer in them. 

“Hey” Barclay waves.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Bigfoot.”

“What the fuck?” Joe isn’t moving, and Barclay decides now is his best chance. 

“I’m just, uh, gonna go get my bracelet back.”

“No, you’re going to explain everything.” 

“I really, really can’t, some of it isn’t mine to explain. I mean, uh, I can explain some bits later-” He creeps toward the stairs. Joe steps in front of him. 

“Barclay, this can’t wait. You, you’ve been him the whole time, my entire world view is simultaneously being proven and flipped over, would you please just talk to me?”

“Mew?” Yeti is halfway down the stairs, watching them with the bracelet still in her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Joe reaches up and out, plucking it from her teeth.

“You’re not getting this back until you explain.”

“Babe, please, I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, wait, what did you call me?”

“Uhhhh” Barclay lunges for the bracelet instead of answering. Stern twists out of the way, sprinting for the kitchen. Barclay gets an arm around his waist and yanks backwards, sending them both over the back of the couch. Joe elbows him and scrambles up. Barclay only just manages to block him from going up the stairs, stalks him back onto the rug and tackles him. It succeeds in bringing the man down and keeping him pinned. 

It also sends the bracelet flying onto the floor, where Yeti snatches it up and disappears up the staircase. 

Barclay realizes he’s growling, stops so that he won’t frighten Joe, only for it to start up again as a reflex.

“Barclay, I swear, if you hurt my cat-”

“I won’t, I, that’s what not that noise is for. Or, uh, I mean I’m pissed you played keep-away with something I need, but I also have some bad news about Sy--uh, Bigfoot biology. Uh, so, first thing: I have a heat, which is why I was trying to stay away from people. Second thing: my kind uses a very intense game of, uh, chase as part of courtship.”

Stern shifts his thigh, “That explains what I’m feeling.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Look, can you go get the bracelet and then we can, like, have some tea and talk about this? I’m sorry, I feel so bad for making you deal with this.” The growl rumbles up again. He gears up another apology when he notices Joe’s blue eyes getting wider.

“Is this, um, only because of your heat? I mean, if you tackled some passerby, would the same thing be happening?”

“No.” Barclay squeaks. 

“Then I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, big guy.” He grinds his thigh up, making Barclay yip and pin him to the rug while touching as little of him as possible. 

“Joe, this doesn’t make me like, mindless or anything, but if you say you want this you are signing up for several days of as much fucking as I can manage.”

“I don’t have any deadlines.” Joe’s eyes remain fixed on Barclays crotch. 

“I’m serious, if you say stop I will, but if you don’t you won’t be able to get out of bed for days. And, uh, I can put my disguise back on, you don’t have to fuck me like this, I know it’s weird.”

“Barclay, I built my life’s work on weird.” Joe pets his arm.

“Yeah but not on fucking it.”

“How do you know? Lots of my time with the UP is classified.”

“Joe…” it’s a warning, the heat in  his brain suggesting a dozen things to do so the human can’t be touched by another cryptid ever again.

“I want you, Barclay. In both forms. As long as you promise we’ll talk after, I’m okay with doing this first.”

“I promise”

“Good, because otherwise I was going out to see if there’s another bigfoot in the area who was interested.” Joe smiles, moves to pull off his shirt. He doesn’t get to; Barclay snarls possessively and drops onto him, biting his neck and ripping his clothing into a flurry of fabric scraps. The human moans, gasps when Barclay makes short work of his own pants and reveals what’s waiting beneath. Barclay doesn’t give him time to process, shoves his legs as far apart as they’ll go, and finally sinks into him.

“JesusfuckingCHRIST, ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggodAH!”

His cock is more thick than long, splitting the human open while bottoming out on every thrust. Joe’s fingers knot into the rug, his words morph into sharp, ecstatic sounds. Every creature in the forest can probably hear him. 

Barclay clamps his hand down over the humans mouth, “shut up babe, don’t want anyone else in the woods getting any ideas about how good a fuck you are. You’re fucking mine.”

A muffled moan and, when he pulls his hand back, “Y-you really think I, fuck, I can keep quiet when you fuck me like this?”

“Thought they taught FBI agents discipline” he drags his claws across Joe’s chest, relishing the shaky, happy noise that gets him. 

“There’s discipline and, AAHnnn, there’s inhuman restraint.”

Barclay slams the hand down again and growls, pleased, when Joe’s posture turns submissive.

“Here’s the deal; you keep quiet and take it like a good mate, and after I cum in you, can be as loud as you fucking want, because anyone who gets near you’ll know belong to me. I mean” he jerks his hips, “they’ll be able to tell that from the fact I’m balls-deep in you too, babe.”

Joe nods, replaces Barclays hand with his own as the Sylph hooks his knees over his shoulders. The next minute goes in a heat haze, his brain and body united in the desire to cum in Joe, to claim him,  while the human stifles his screams and grows slicker with each thrust. 

He tips his head back with a howlgrowlpurr as he cums, leaving faint clawmarks in Joe’s legs as he holds them open to make sure he takes every bit.

“Lord almighty” Joe’s hand falls to the floor, “that, that was amazing, why on earth were you acting like this isn’t something I’d waaAAAAAntohgod.” He whimpers as Barclay starts up again, fucking his cum up into him.

“Shoulda known you’d like it; you’re perfect, Joe.”

A blush and a shy moan, and he leans down to kiss him gently.

“You are. You’re the perfect man, the perfect mate, and we are gonna have so much fucking fun together.”

“And fun fucking?” He looks pleased with the wordplay.

He snorts, “Glad to know that sense of humor sticks around when I’m filling you up, oh, ohfuckyeah” another orgasm hits, milder this time. 

“Are they near constant when you’re in heat?” Joe eyes the trail of cum sliding back down Barclay’s cock.

“No, just easy to have. So” he flips the human over, squeezing his ass appreciatively, “let’s try it from  behind this time; wanna find out how it feels to cum in you while I get you off.” He slips his hand over Joe’s thigh and between his legs, “and you better fucking do it too, of I’ll drag you outside and fuck you against a tree so anyone passing by can see how fucking eager you are for me.”

“Please, we’ve spent so much time outside tonight.”

He thinks as kisses along Joe’s shoulders, “You’re right. I’ll fuck you against the door instead.”

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

When Stern wakes up, snow is falling in the grey light and his clock reads 2:30 P.M. Downstairs there’s a homey clink of pots and pans, and the smell of coffee winds it’s way to him. 

He fell asleep around five, he thinks, when the cumulative exhaustion of his day overpowered the thrill of being with Barclay. Honestly, he’d have kept going, but Barclay was adamant he rest. So they finished with him fucking Stern’s slack, sleepy mouth, before the cryptid bundled him into bed and snuggled up to him with those deep, rumbling purrs that Stern now loves.

The bracelet is gone from the nightstand (Yeti didn’t eat it, thank god), so the chef must be making breakfast in his human form. Now would be a good time to go down and talk. 

“Mew” A weight lands on his chest as Yeti kneads the blankets, purring when he reaches you and rubs her head.

“You know, little monster, this almost makes the heart attack you gave me worth it.”

“Mew?” The cat stares hopefully out the windows. 

“Not a chance. I can’t take that stress again. Besides” he scoops her up, “we need to unbox that new toy I ordered. Barclay and I need some time to ourselves today.”

[littlemisswolfie]

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad)

Part II>

Somehow I never posted this here oops--

I’ve always loved @umisabaku ‘s Designation: Miracle fic series on Ao3, and I love to see a half-Canadian protagonist in anime because no one ever thinks being half-Canadian is cool, so I love Sk8: The Infinity, and I figured, hey! Why not combine them! And this happened.

TW for  mentions of child experimentation and torture, a scene where it is heavily implied Nanako trades sexual favors in exchange for custody of Langa, a few scenes where Langa has nightmares, a brief moment of Langa having a panic attack, non-graphic descriptions of Oliver developing liver cancer, discussions of death and funeral arrangements, a non-graphic scene of Oliver dying, and the beginnings of Langa's depression.

Ao3

Hasegawa Nanako didn’t quite know what she was getting into when she got contracted by a private company straight out of nursing school. She was young and trusting and desperate for money after her parents died and left her with their debts, and the recruiter from Teiko Industries handed her a quote that was three times the average pay for nurses, so she took the job. She signed the stacks of NDAs, went through with the extensive background checks and drug tests, and underwent a psych evaluation before she even stepped foot into the lab that would change her entire life.

She wants to quit as soon as she figures out what was really going on. Human experimentation, torture, training children to be assassins… the whole thing makes her skin crawl. But, again, she really needs the money. No other job she could get right out of school would pay enough to chip away at her parents’ debt and pay for her apartment and car and food. So, with a heavy heart, she shows up for her shift five nights a week, and she’s assigned to the hospital ward that cared for Generation Infinity.

They’re the youngest generation so far. Eight years younger than Generation Miracle, which, Nanako learns from a particularly chatty coworker, was the most successful Generation by far. “They’re almost all Successes,” the other nurse says, cheery, like they’re talking about some sports game or a litter of kittens instead of living, breathing children. “They just had to scrap O394, but the others are all still promising. Well, maybe not B452, but still. That’s six out of fourteen! Imagine that.”

Nanako doesn’t want to imagine that. The thought makes her stomach churn. The casual talk of killing children…

“Maybe Infinity will be even better!” the coworker chatters on. “If our Orange Three can actually fly… think they’d give us a raise?”

*

The Project she sees most often during her shift is GI-B423.

Nanako knows there isn’t much hope for him. He’s only two years old, but he’s barely developed even the slightest invisibility. He doesn’t even display any Latent Overflow, which was supposed to be inherent in every Project. The scientists still make him wear the shock bracelets (horrible things, Nanako wanted to rip them off of him with her bare hands) and still send him to that torture chamber they stole from Orwell, but he’s already a Failure in their eyes.

To Nanako, he’s a baby. He’s tall for his age, with curious eyes and an unfillable stomach and a wonderful smile when she could wrench one out of him. He winds up in the hospital ward so often because of his reckless behavior. He tries to copy everything the other Projects do, particularly GI-O376’s jumping and GI-B531’s speed, and even when he doesn’t hurt himself trying something stupid, his heart rate elevates and he gets shocked.

“You should be more careful,” she says to him one night as she patches up a scratch he got when he scraped  his arm on the wall of his cell trying to touch the ceiling. “I’d hate to see them hurt you for being reckless.”

Those eyes, too smart for a toddler, stare into her soul. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it. Even if she didn’t care too much about this child who will probably be killed by the time he’s ten years old, it would be cruel to deny caring for a boy this young. And maybe she’s selfish, for feeling like this about GI-B423 and not the other children, but the scientists care about them plenty. They are Successes.

GI-B423 will never be a Success. So she has to care about him, because no one else will.

*

Nanako quickly comes to realize she’s one of the only people in Teiko that thinks of the Projects as human. This lets her see things no one else does.

So, a few years after she starts working, she notices GM-B425 is planning something.

She’s sure he’s fooling the others. The scientists and doctors and contractors think of these children as weapons, unfeeling, unthinking save for their direct orders. The Miracle Projects are generally allowed free reign of the facility as long as they stay out of the private offices and labs, so Nanako will take her time at the vending machines to watch them, and she notices the way GM-B452 watches everyone else. He’s the closest thing to a Success a Black will ever be, Nanako has heard, but he’s still going to be scrapped soon.

Nanako knows what desperation looks like.

She makes a choice.

*

“Let me get this straight,” says Honda-san, the director of Generation Infinity. He’s an older man, probably pushing sixty, with graying black hair and dark, mean eyes. He’s watched her with a predatory gaze from the first time they met when she first started. Nanako’s always known she’s a pretty woman, one of the few things her mother gave her, so it wasn’t like she was unused to attention from old, greasy men. “You want to resign, and instead of a severance package, you want to take GI-B423 with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Nanako’s wearing her best dress (and if it’s cut just low enough to be flattering, well, that’s just a bonus) and she did her make-up and she is being as polite as she can possibly be. “I’ve made more than enough money here to pay off my parents’ debts, and I was never cut out for work like this in the first place, so I see no reason to continue in my current position when you could hire someone more suited for the role.” She’s been saving since the day she started working. She never eats out, she doesn’t go out drinking, and she takes five minute showers. She’s debt-free, with savings to spare.

“And GI-B423?” Honda-san leans forward on his hands, his wrinkled brow furrowing further. “What use could he have to you?”

Nanako inhales and brings a hand to her stomach. “I’ll never be able to have children,” she says, the truth burning her throat. “I had to get a hysterectomy due to my endometriosis. I’ve come to care for GI-B423 as my own child, and you know as well as I do that he’ll never be a Success. If anything, he’s more noticeable than the other members of his Generation. Why spend the resources continuing to believe he’ll develop the abilities you would need him to? Why dissect him as if anything about him could better future Projects?” The words sting, tasting sour in her mouth. She hates saying these things about GI-B423, but it’s what she needs to do. “If you can get him on my family register, that’s all I ask. We’ll leave the country, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Honda-san makes a considering noise, and, after a moment, he places his hand on her bare knee. His wedding band glints in the overhead light. “I might be persuaded.”

Nanako tries to smile.

*

Later that night, as Nanako is slipping her dress back up over her shoulders in the room of the love hotel Honda-san rented for the evening, Honda-san says, “What name did you want for him?”

“Langa,” Nanako says. “His name is Hasegawa Langa.”

*

Langa is confused, at first. “Where are we going?” he asks Nanako when she loads him and his meager belongings into her car. He’s never been out on a mission, so this is probably the first time he’s ever seen a car. “Does R0132 know where I am? He’ll get mad if I’m not at training.” He rubs at his wrists, finally free of those awful shock bracelets, like he can’t believe they’re gone.

“I don’t work here anymore,” she tells him. “I quit. Do you know what adoption means? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

“So… I don’t live here?”

“No. And you’ll never have to do training again, or wear your shock bracelets, or go to Room 101. You can eat as much as you want. And you have a name.”

“A name?”

“Yes. Your name is Hasegawa Langa. You’re my son, now, and I’m your mother, and that means I’ll love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Langa blinks. Then, he says, “Okay,” and he lets her buckle him in.

*

Two days later, they’re on a plane to Canada.

*

A month after that, nestled in their new apartment in Squamish, Nanako holds Langa in her lap and they watch, together, as Generation Miracle escapes from Teiko.

“Will they come for us, Mom?” Langa asks.

She squeezes him around the middle, perhaps a little too tight. “No, honey. As long as we keep our secret a secret, we’ll be fine.”

 Nanako hopes she’s right.

*

The military never ends up knocking on their door, and Nanako thanks God for small mercies. She and Langa are doing everything they can to blend in, like normal immigrants. Nanako’s working at a nursing home, and Langa is enrolled at the local Catholic school, and they both attend Mass on Sundays and Wednesdays. Nanako makes friends with the other women in the apartment building and she tells them all that Langa’s father got her pregnant and walked out on her, so that’s why he’s not in the picture, and Langa dutifully goes along with the sentiment when asked. Langa isn’t making a lot of friends, and that would worry Nanako, but mostly she’s glad that it means there’s no danger of Langa accidentally telling a kindergartener with no filter about his time at Teiko.

He still gets nightmares, sometimes. Nanako never saw the inside of Room 101, and she wishes Langa never had, either. She never let him see the press images of how the JSDF found Teiko when they went hunting for the scientists, because that would only make the fear worse. Hell, she woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, catapulted out of a dream of fire and screaming, bloody children, guilty that she couldn’t save the rest of them, guilty that she only loved Langa and not the others, and she’ll never make Langa feel that, too. He has enough on his shoulders as it is.

Then, for Langa’s first Christmas outside of Teiko’s walls, Nanako uses up all the PTO she’s saved and they take a trip to a ski lodge, and there they meet Oliver Campbell.

*

Oliver, as it turns out, also lives in Squamish, as he tells Nanako one night over boozy hot chocolate after Langa has been put to bed. “I’m a firefighter,” he says, “though, when I was younger, I wanted to be a pro snowboarder.”

“I could never,” Nanako laughs. “That’s a little too dangerous for me.” Then, because the alcohol makes speaking secrets easier, she says, “Langa would probably love it, though. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie.”

Oliver looks surprised. “He seems like such a quiet kid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was—when we still lived in Japan. Scrapes and broken bones everywhere.”

“Well, then, he’s lucky he had such an amazing mother to patch him up.”

Heat floods Nanako’s cheeks. “What good would my nursing license do if I couldn’t even take care of my own kid?”

“And… Langa’s father?”

“Not in the picture. It’s just the two of us.” Please don’t ask anymore, she begs. There’s something about Oliver that makes her want to be completely honest, and that could end very, very poorly.

“Ah,” he says, instead, “I’m sorry about that. Wherever he is, he’s really missing out.”

Nanako thinks of Honda-san, of his leer and his sweaty hands and his potbelly dragging against her back, and says, “We’re better off without him, trust me.”

*

The next day, Oliver starts teaching Langa how to snowboard. Just like Nanako thought, he takes to it like a fish to water, and even when he falls, the snow cushions his landing, so he just laughs and jumps right back up to try again. She watches from the sidelines and smiles, feeling warm, because this is what Langa deserves. He deserves to be a normal kid.

*

“When are you guys going home?” Oliver asks over dinner one night, a few days into their stay at the ski lodge. They’re having breakfast for dinner, a phenomenon Langa was very pleased to learn about, and Nanako ordered him three helpings of Eggs Benedict.

Langa is too busy shovelling peameal bacon into his mouth like he’s never eaten in his life to answer, so Nanako says, “Boxing Day. We don’t have any family in the area, so we’re just doing Christmas here.”

Oliver leans back in his chair. “That reminds me! Why did you guys move here, anyway? If you don’t have family here, I mean.”

Langa only barely doesn’t tense up, and Nanako promises to give him extra dessert for his restraint. “We needed a fresh start,” Nanako says. “I got pregnant with him while I was still in nursing school, and by the time I graduated, my parents had both died, and I got saddled with their debts. We stayed in Japan long enough to pay the debts off and save enough money to move, and we just… left. Where we went didn’t matter much, honestly, as long as it wasn’t Japan.”

“Your English is pretty good,” Oliver notes. He genuinely just sounds curious. “Both of you, actually. If I didn’t know you were immigrants, I would think English was Langa’s first language.”

Langa swallows a huge mouthful of English muffin and egg and says, “I know French, too! And some other languages.”

Nanako takes back her internal promise of extra dessert as Oliver’s eyebrows migrate up towards his hairline. “That’s very impressive,” he says. “Where’d you learn all those?”

Langa shrugs. “Around.”

“We learn English all throughout school, in Japan,” Nanako cuts in. “When I knew we were going to move abroad, I taught Langa, too. And he started teaching himself French when we decided on Canada. He’s a quick study when it comes to languages.” Oliver still looks a little unsure, so she rushes to change the subject. “When are you leaving the lodge, Oliver?”

“I’m checking out of my room on Christmas Eve. My parents always throw a big Christmas party at their cabin in Princeton every year, with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s a riot, especially when we play Pass the Ace.”

“Pass the Ace?” Langa asks. “What’s that?”

A playful glint enters Oliver’s eye. “Oh, Langa, my boy, do you have any loonies on you?”

*

The three of them spend the next few days together. Langa wakes Nanako up as soon as the sun rises and they go downstairs to meet up with Oliver, who spends the rest of the morning teaching Langa how to snowboard. Then they go to the bunny slopes to toboggan, and at night, they eat dinner together, and Oliver and Nanako stay up long after Langa goes to bed to drink and talk.

Nanako’s surprised at how easy it feels to be around Oliver. Even before she started working at Teiko, her dating life wasn’t exactly active. Sure, she’d hooked up with a few guys in college, and she had a boyfriend in high school, but there was never a connection, not like this.

“Here,” he says, the night of the 23rd, “let me give you my number.”

“Really?” Nanako asks, even though she’s already pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Oliver gives her a confused look. “Yeah? I mean, unless you didn’t want to meet up back in Squamish—”

“No, I do!” Nanako rushes to correct. “I do. It’s just… I mean, with Langa…”

“Hey.” Oliver reaches across the table to take one of her hands. “Langa’s a great kid. Any guy who got scared away by him isn’t worth the time of day. I like you, and I like Langa, and I would love nothing more than to get to know the both of you better, if you would allow it.”

Nanako flushes again. She likes this feeling, like someone is looking at her and seeing her and still liking it. She knows she shouldn’t, that Langa’s secret could be in jeopardy if she gets too close to the wrong guy, but she can’t help it. “I think I will,” she says. “Langa would probably never forgive me if I took his snowboarding teacher from him.”

And Oliver laughs, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard, right under Langa calling her “Mom.”

*

She and Oliver start officially dating not too long after Christmas. He’ll come to the nursing home with Tim Hortons when she’s working twelves, and he picks Langa up from school and helps him with his homework, and he invites the two of them over for dinner at least twice a week because he knows Nanako is often too busy to cook. When it comes time to celebrate Langa’s birthday, Oliver buys him a brand new snowboard, and Langa throws his arms around his neck and chants “thank you”s into his hair.

He brings them to his parents’ cabin for Victoria Day, and his family is just as kind as him. His nieces and nephews do their best to include Langa in their games, but they don’t push when she shies away and hangs out by the buffet table instead, and his mother, Barbara, hugs Nanako like she’s an old friend rather than a stranger.

“Hey, Langa, wanna swim?” Oliver’s dad, Ray, asks, gesturing to the small pond nearby. Some of the other kids are already splashing around in it, and it is getting warm, so it’s no wonder he’s suggesting it.

Nanako tenses, but Langa just shakes his head. “I don’t swim very often,” he says in that serious way of his, and she releases the breath she was holding. She’s never taken him swimming since she adopted him, because she can’t be certain no one will see the GI-B423 brand on his upper thigh. He doesn’t have many scars, other than the faint ones around his wrists he usually wears long-sleeved shirts to bulky bracelets to cover up, but that one in particular would be very hard to explain away.

Oliver gives her a curious look, but she just shrugs like she’s seen other parents do when their kids are acting weird, and he gives her that lopsided smile and everything is okay again.

*

A month later, Nanako terminates the lease on her and Langa’s apartment, and they move their things into the small house Oliver owns. Langa’s a little confused about why Nanako says he can’t sleep with her as often as he used to now that they’re living with Oliver, but he doesn’t complain. After her, Oliver is his favorite person in the whole world.

*

They go to the ski lodge again for Christmas, and Langa barely stays off the slopes the whole time. He’s only seven now, but he snowboards better than people three times his age and with a decade more experience.

“He’s a prodigy,” Oliver says, watching him jump a worryingly high way into the air. “He could go pro.”

Nanako hopes he doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to attract too much attention to himself. “Maybe,” she says. “But he’s a little too spacey for that, I think.” Oliver laughs and puts an arm around her waist, letting her melt into his side. “Maybe.”

*

That Christmas, surrounded by the Campbell clan, Oliver gets down on one knee and asks Nanako to be his wife. Nanako can see Langa over Oliver’s shoulder, bobbing his head up and down like a bobblehead, and she lets out a wet laugh and says “yes.”

*

It’s a quiet wedding, at the cabin in Princeton, with just Oliver’s family and some of Nanako’s friends from work. They include Langa in all of their wedding photos, and he hugs Oliver and calls him “Dad” and Oliver almost cries.

This is it, Nanako decides. This is all she needs. Her husband and their son and the life they’ve made for themselves.

As long as no one finds out about Teiko.

*

Langa’s been very good about keeping it all a secret. He never talks about Teiko, or his Generation, or the powers that should have developed but never did. He doesn’t take his bracelets off around anyone, even Oliver, and when he has his nightmares, he quietly wakes Nanako up so she can slip out of bed and comfort him until he falls back to sleep.

Things aren’t perfect, but they work.

Until Generation Miracle is put back into the spotlight.

*

Nanako studiously never brings up the Miracles. Sometimes people will ask if she has an opinion on them, and she always says no. If a news segment is playing and talking about them, she’ll change the channel or turn the TV off. It’s been harder to ignore all the media attention lately, since Teiko’s more insidious designs are suddenly being brought to light. She’s not sure who is suddenly talking, or why, but she’s more than happy to bury her head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t concern her.

Until one day, when she gets home from work, and sees Oliver and Langa sitting on the couch and watching as a teenage boy with light blue hair and a calm fury Nanako only ever saw in one person says, “All we have ever wanted to do is be free.”

Nanako lunges for the remote to change the channel. Oliver squawks in surprise, but she kneels in front of Langa, who’s sitting rigid, like a stone, and takes his hands and says, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He nods robotically, and she winces. He’s retreating. That’s not good. “Hey, baby, breathe for me, okay? In for four, hold for five, out for six. Just like we used to.”

Langa sets about his breathing exercises, and Oliver stands up, looking more concerned than she’s ever seen him look. “What’s going on? He got all quiet as soon as that news segment started.”

“Oliver, it’s a long story—”

“If my son is having a—a panic attack, or something, I think I deserve to know why!”

This is what she’s always dreaded. She has to come up with something. If she brushes him off, he’s just going to keep digging, but if she says something too complicated, she won’t remember what she said later and it will bite her in the ass. I shouldn’t have gotten him involved, she thinks, mournfully, already picturing the divorce proceedings and custody battle and Langa missing the only father he’s ever known. I knew it was too risky.

“GI-B423.” Langa gasps, and Nanako whips her head up towards him.

“Langa—” she starts, panic rising in her chest, at the same time Oliver says, “What?”

“My designation,” Langa says, he’s still clearly upset. “GI-B423. The twenty-third Black Four Project in Generation Infinity. Failed experiment. GI-B423…” He continues muttering, clearly back in that awful place, and Nanako throws her arms around him.

“Shh, baby,” she coos, rocking him back and forth, feeling him tremble against her. “That’s not you anymore, remember? You’re Hasegawa Langa. You’re eight years old, you’re in year three, and you live with your mom and dad in Squamish, British Columbia.”

She repeats this mantra a few times, drowning out Langa’s, until he stops trembling so much. His little hands grip her scrub top like she’s a liferaft in the middle of the ocean. She’s no stranger to this feeling; most of his nightmares result in a similar embrace. Her neck is damp from his tears and snot, but she keeps on rocking him, letting him cry himself out until he falls asleep.

Throughout it all, Oliver watches, silent.

*

Nanako carries Langa to bed and tucks him in for an impromptu nap, and braces herself for the awful conversation she knows she has to have.

Oliver is still sitting on the couch, silent, staring at the wall behind the TV. “Well,” he says, before Nanako has a chance to say anything, “a few things make more sense now.”

“Oliver…”

He looks at her, meeting her worried gaze, and sighs, opening his arms. She falls into his embrace readily, collapsing against his side. In his arms, she feels safe, like nothing can touch her here. “Tell me your story,” he says, playing with her wedding band, and she does.

*

Nanako won’t say things are perfect after Oliver learns Langa’s secret, but they’re certainly easier.  

Now, when Langa has his nightmares, he can crawl into bed in between his parents and not have to worry about revealing anything he shouldn’t. Oliver’s always been better at calming him down, too, so having his help in soothing Langa’s nightmares is a huge deal. Nanako doesn’t have to be on the lookout for evil scientists or government agents all on her own anymore, now that Oliver is also keeping an eye out.

The three of them sit on the couch together to watch the coverage of the Special Diet, and when the Miracles are declared not dangerous, Nanako almost cries.

Maybe they can finally be free.

*

And so, the years pass.

Things are never perfect. They wouldn’t have been perfect if Langa wasn’t a genetically engineered child designed to be an assassin, but even then, things are a normal amount of imperfection. Langa still has trouble connecting with kids his own age, but not in a weird way, just a kid way. Nanako and Oliver have their odd disagreements, though they never go to bed angry. Oliver goes out drinking with his coworkers from the fire station more often than Nanako would like, but he never drives drunk and never gets angry or abusive, so she doesn’t try to make him stop. They get enough money to buy a larger house just outside of Squamish, and Nanako starts up a garden in the backyard in the spring and summer. In the winter, they spend more and more time on the mountain as Langa falls more in love with snowboarding.

And he does love snowboarding. He’s always pushing himself to go faster, jump higher, do more. Nanako is nervous that he might want to go pro, but he never brings the possibility up. He just wants to snowboard with his dad. He doesn’t care about the money or the glory or anything else. As long as he has his board and the snow and Oliver, he’s happy.

And then Oliver gets his diagnosis.

*

It starts small. He’s less hungry than he used to be, “But your food is as delicious as it’s always been!” he says with a flirty wink. The fifteen-year-old Langa rolls his eyes.

Then, he starts losing weight. He was always fit, with not a lot of fat on him, so when he starts losing weight, Nanako gets concerned. “You’re not trying to diet or anything, right?” she asks, staring at his narrower chest.

He shakes his head. “I’m probably just getting old, honey. We didn’t get to go on the slopes much this winter. I’ll start jogging to get my muscle mass back up, if that’ll make you happy.”

Langa goes on these runs with him. He’s always been an active kid, since Teiko was training them to be super soldiers, so he always has too much energy. The extra activity is good for him.

Oliver, on the other hand, doesn’t benefit as much from their daily jogs. He keeps losing weight, and every once in a while, he complains of abdominal pain. “No, Nanako, I’m not going to the doctor,” he says when she gives him a worried look. “It’s probably nothing.”

Then, on Canada Day, Nanako is woken up when Oliver bolts out of bed to be violently sick in their ensuite bathroom and notices his skin is jaundiced, and the next day she packs up him and Langa and they all go to the hospital together.

*

Liver cancer.

Stage 4.

Treatment options.

Life expectancy.

Langa shuts down.

*

Oliver deteriorates quickly after that.

He’s in the hospital more often than not, and when he’s admitted two weeks before Thanksgiving, everyone knows it’s for the last time. Nanako and Langa are there as often as they can be, sitting with him and holding his hand and desperately trying to pretend he’s not about to leave him forever. The nurses even buy Langa a cake when the three of them all collectively forget his sixteenth birthday.

When Langa is at school or sleeping in the waiting room, Nanako and Oliver go over his will. He’s leaving everything to Nanako, of course, but he says she should let his cousins come and take a look at family photos after she decides what she wants to keep. He also writes a letter for Langa, but doesn’t let Nanako read it. “It’s for him,” he says. “He should be the first one to read it.

“I don’t want a funeral,” he tells her, voice weak. “Don’t spend your money on that. Don’t make Langa go through that. Cremate me and bury me next to my grandparents, and go out to lunch after.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I wish this wasn’t happening.” For the first time since he got his diagnosis, Oliver starts to cry. “I don’t want to leave you and Langa. I want to see him grow up and fall in love. I want to see your hair turn gray.”

“I want that, too,” she says. She grips his hand tightly and lets her own tears roll down her cheeks. “How am I going to do this without you?”

He tries to crack one of his crooked grins. “You’re a smart lady. You’ll figure it out.”

*

A few nights later, Nanako and Langa are woken in the middle of the night, and they rush to the hospital. They get there in time for each of them to hold one of Oliver’s hands as he takes his last breath.

*

Like Oliver wanted, he’s cremated and buried in Princeton, next to his grandparents in the Campbell family plot. His parents take them out for lunch at a Swiss Chalet, and Langa barely eats. He has the letter Oliver wrote him clenched in his fist. He hasn’t read it yet; the envelope is still sealed.

Nanako won’t push. He’ll read it when he’s ready.

*

They go up the mountain that winter.

Langa stands at the top of the slope and stares down it. He does this for twenty minutes, and walks back to the lodge.

*

“We can’t stay here,” Nanako tells Barbara a few weeks after Christmas. “It’s—it’s killing Langa, being  here without Oliver. He’s not eating, he’s barely sleeping…” She chokes back a sob, and melts into the warm embrace her mother-in-law offers her.

“You’ll always be family,” Barbara assures her. “Do what you need to do. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

*

“I’m thinking we should move back to Japan,” Nanako says to Langa later that night. She doesn’t really want to go back to Japan, but Teiko is gone. For good, now that the Miracles thwarted their attempt to build a new one near Hawaii not long after the Special Diet. There’s no reason not to go there, when that’s where they came from and the country in the world most comfortable with mutant children.

Langa, still blank, says, “Okay,” and then nothing else for the rest of the night.

*

They sell the house, find an apartment in Okinawa, say goodbye to the Campbells, and get on a plane to the country they fled almost ten years ago.

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Oliver.

[ash-etherwood]

Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food

♡

Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)

WRITING MEMORIES

5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.

4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?

3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.

2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.

1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:

- - - - -

SONGS

My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)

5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)

4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.

3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,

2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.

1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!

- - - - -

NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS

I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.

5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.

4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)

3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.

2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.

1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.

- - - - -

RUNES IN BLANK RUNE

I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,

5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:

4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.

3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3

2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.

1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,

- - - - -

FOOD

5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …

4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!

3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.

2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.

1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.

[dawnrider]

Since most of the votes were for the Modern AU, I bring to you, the spicy part so far of a college AU I’ve been writing off and on for a long time. I promise there’s more plot and emotional development before this... but I’m guessing y’all don’t care about that right now. XD Had to split it into 2 parts since it was long.

1 | 2 |

Spitfire:

I'm not sure what woke me, exactly, but I was suddenly wide awake.  Judging by the darkness, it was the middle of the night.  My hands shifted restlessly under my pillow for a moment before I realized that I could feel someone watching me.  Not the best feeling to wake up to in the middle of the night in your apartment alone...  A soft noise, maybe a rustle of clothing, drew my attention and I nearly screamed.  Standing near the window, the moon not quite reaching him, was Yash.

I had never seen him look so intimidating before.  While nothing about him was outwardly antagonistic or aggressive, he loomed over me in a way he'd never done.  “Yash?” I whispered.  “What are you doing here?”  I pulled the blanket in my hands closer, somehow feeling like it was protecting me from him.  Despite the fact that he was hanging back in the shadows, I could easily see that it was him.  No one else filled a room the way he did. No one made me fight a constant quiver in my knees the way he did.  I wasn't even standing and I could feel my patellas twitching.  He still hadn't responded to my question and it was making me even more nervous than I was already.  How the hell had he gotten into my apartment?  "Yash?" I tried again.

"I... had to see you," he murmured.  There was a growling tone to his voice I was unfamiliar with.  Was he sick?  He stepped into the light from the window and I felt my head tilt in confusion of its own volition.  He looked different somehow.  The phrase “animal attraction” quickly came to mind and I found myself lowering the blanket and slipping from the bed.  The wood floor was chilly under my toes, sending a shiver up through the soles of my feet.  But as he drew closer, I realized the chill wasn't causing the shiver at all.

His eyes, usually a pale brown, absolutely glowed golden in the moonlight.  His hair, which I had always considered blond was clearly a platinum silver.  Most startling was the way his eye teeth seemed longer than was normal... or even slightly abnormal for a human being.  I mean, mine were a little lengthy. I had repeatedly discovered this the hard way when I used to bite the inside of my lip in the same place consistently.  Yash's were nearly deadly looking.  He seemed to be breathing through his mouth deliberately and I couldn't tell why until he took a deep breath through his nose and winced.  "Geez, do I smell bad?" I half-joked in a weak whisper.  He barely reacted at first, closing his eyes.  I didn't have time to react myself when he suddenly grabbed my arms, pulling me against his chest.  "Are you alright?" I questioned him, when I really felt the question should have been going the other direction.

"I have never smelled something so delicious in my entire life."  I froze at his words.  Was he serious?  Was he seriously playing some kind of prank on me?  The whole sneaking into my apartment in the dead of night thing, the looming in the darkness and barely speaking, looking at me like he wanted to devour me...  Was this supposed to be some sort of Halloween, vampire, scare the crap out of Kagome thing?  If it was, it wasn't funny anymore.

"That's sweet, I suppose.  You still haven't told me what you're doing here... in my room... in the middle of the night.

"Don't you feel it?"  I gave him a blank look.  "I'm drawn to you, Kagome.  I know you're drawn to me."  I couldn't deny that and he seemed to know what I wasn't saying.  "You're it," he growled.  I flinched and I heard what sounded like a whimper in response.  "Don't be afraid of me, Kagome.  I would never hurt you."

"I-I know that," I whispered uncertainly.  I did know it, but I wasn't sure why he felt like he needed to tell me that.  The reason came in the form of a rough kiss I most definitely hadn't expected.  Despite the way I had felt about him for several years, never in a million years did I think he would ever return my feelings.  But again, maybe he didn't and this was some strange prank.  The way he was kissing me certainly didn't imply that he was joking.  His lips were firm and insistent, urging me into kissing him back with equal enthusiasm.  When his kiss changed from a firm but relatively chaste one to fierce and open-mouthed, I followed right along without a thought.  His tongue traced mine carefully at first, then with more confidence when I didn't pull away.

I found myself reciprocating until I brushed one of those deadly looking incisors with my tongue and felt a sting of pain.  So not just "deadly looking," actually dangerous.  Yash flinched himself, clearly stunned by the taste of my blood in his mouth.  It took him several moments to pull away, his tongue tracing his own teeth and then his lips.  He seemed more focused than before, his eyes really taking me in.  “Kagome?  Shit, I'm sorry,” he growled, stepping back and switching on the floor lamp I had next to the armchair in the corner.  The light made him look normal again, the same Yash I had known for years.  I stood frozen, watching him, as he went to my bed, pulling the blanket I had been gripping earlier up and around my shoulders.  “I shouldn't be here,” he told me.  I started to protest but stopped when he spoke again.  “But I can't leave now.  I... I need to explain.”

“I should think so.  How the hell did you get into my apartment?” I asked again.  He looked sheepish before pointing to the window.  I raised an eyebrow.  “I live on the third floor Yash,” I said in a tone that attempted to remind him I was expecting a truthful explanation.

“It's a brick building.  These help,” he muttered, slowly presenting me with fingers clad in blunt but very tough looking nails.  Looking from his hands to his face, I frowned, taking one hand in my own to study it.  The tips were not sharp, but certainly could do damage if applied properly.  I'd always admired how strong his hands looked.  Hands that could fix things, solve problems, protect things.  The nails were real.  It took me several moments to realize that they in fact grew like any normal fingernail, just thicker and tougher.  I looked into his face again and saw the nervousness in his eyes.  Why was he afraid of me?  He was the one with the claws.  As I stared, the way I had seen him in the moonlight seemed to become clearer, the way I usually saw him fading as I distinguished the features I normally didn't notice.  The fangs were back and his eyes looked more like molten gold than light brown.  Why had it never occurred to me that his eye color wasn't really normal?  His hair, almost platinum blonde in my previous opinion, was clearly silver.  The last thing I noticed was the pair of animal ears twitching in agitation on top of his head.  I felt the stretch of shock on my face.

Yash's fingers gently curled around my wrist as my hands went numb and almost dropped from where they had been holding his.  “Yash...” I whispered, completely baffled.

“Don't be afraid, Kagome.  I won't hurt you,” he repeated.  He seemed so sure that I was going to be afraid of him, that I was going to start screaming at any moment.  Alright, maybe letting out a little scream had entered my mind for a moment, but it wasn't there now.  I felt the shock slowly wear off to be replaced with faint wonder.  “You needed to know the truth,” he murmured, stepping closer.  His steps were light and as non-threatening as he could manage.

“Shippo too?” I whispered.  A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Not exactly.  He's... He's a full-blood.  A fox.”  I frowned for a moment before tilting my head in confusion.  “Youkai.  The English word Demon doesn't quite fit, but it's the best translation.”  Nodding slowly, I started to sit, squeaking when Yash caught my elbows.  He steered me back a few more feet so I actually landed on the bed.  He knelt in front of me, staring up into my face plaintively.  “My mother was human, my father an inuyoukai.  A dog demon.  My given name is Inuyasha.”

I fought the quirk of a smile.  Not completely unfamiliar with my parents' native language, I guessed the translation of his name.  “Dog forest spirit?  A bit literal.”  A tiny hopeful smile twitched his lips.  “Then how is...”

“I saved Shippo from a couple of weather youkai a long time ago.  He was too young to protect himself and they had just killed his father.  Runt's been following me around ever since.”  The fact that he had taken my best friend under his protection made me smile, my heart warming even more to him.  My head was spinning a little but his warm hands on my arm and knee kept me grounded somehow.

“Why... why share this with me?” I wondered aloud.

His eyes dropped a moment before looking back at me with the quiet determination of a man with a goal in mind.  “I know you think I've never paid you much attention, that I didn't notice you.”  I froze, my eyes widening in embarrassment.  “I've always been very aware of you.  I noticed you even before you became friends with Shippo.”  Trying not to panic, I held my breath.  “Kagome, you don't have to be afraid.  Your interest has always been welcome,” he whispered, leaning closer and toying with the blanket that draped across my arm.  Was he reading my mind?  “I wanted Shippo to become friends with you to make sure you were safe and...  You seemed so alone then.”  His voice had remained a soft comforting murmur, almost hypnotic in its tone.  “Then you were all he could talk about, the best friend he could ask for.”

He was referring to when I'd first arrived at school.  I hadn't known anyone, my family lived nearly five hundred miles away and my roommate at the time was an antisocial, angry girl who eventually tried to kill an ex-boyfriend at home over a school vacation.  Needless to say I hadn't been upset she didn't come back to school after Fall Break.  Shippo had bumped into me shortly before Thanksgiving, a surprising and welcome friendly face.  He was a little younger than me, but he'd been accelerated through school since he was so brilliant.

“The letters and emails from you when you were in Brazil...  They weren't for Ship, were they?” I asked suddenly, putting things together.  There was no reason Shippo would have needed to hear from his older brother so often and certainly not for him to have read every single one to me unless they were for me to hear what was going on.  He gave a small sheepish smirk, but nodded to affirm my assumption.  “Why didn't you... approach me?”

His eyes glowed faintly in the bright light of the nearly full moon and I saw some strange emotion in them.  “I'm not a risk-taker.”  I knew he didn't mean that he wasn't a thrill seeker.  The man had bungee jumped, sky dived, base jumped, cave dived and swam with sharks.  He wasn't afraid of anything.  Except me apparently.  “Shippo never told you about my ex, did he?” he said quietly.  No he hadn't and I was a little afraid to hear it now.  I shook my head and bit my lip.  I had assumed he'd dated a lot.  He was intelligent and extremely good looking and I'd seen at least a few girls throw themselves in his path in hopes of getting his attention.  “It was a long time ago.  Long story short, we met at a time when things were really rough between humans and youkai.  There were a lot more youkai then than there are now, at least out in the open.”  Stretching up to his full height, I felt my awe of him return for a brief moment.  He was tall, broad and almost otherworldly in his appearance.  I found that my feelings for him hadn't changed at all.

He looked to me for permission before sitting next to me on the bed.  I curled my legs under me, tucking the blanket more tightly around my shoulders.  “Go on.”

~~~~~~

“Holy types, priestesses and monks, tended to destroy first, ask questions later.  Which, considering the way youkai were then, was a completely fair way to handle themselves.”  Her eyes widened slightly at my easy acceptance of such brutality.  “More than once I almost got my ass fried until I learned the hard way that getting purified didn't mean I was dust like a normal youkai.”

“You become human...”  I nodded, a grim smile on my mouth, pleased that Kagome was so quick to understand.  “But your...”

“Youki.  My youkai blood...” I supplied.

“Youki then.  It comes back obviously.”  Again I nodded.  “Well that's lucky.”

My face must have displayed open shock at her easy words.  “Lucky?”  I choked out, staring for a few moments.  “I... I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Kagome let out a small laugh.  “Why not?  A full-blooded youkai would be purified and die whereas you can survive a purification attack.  That's pretty neat.”

“Neat?”  My head tilted in surprise at the word.  That definitely wouldn't have been the description I would have chosen.  What I would like to choose in that moment was to kiss Kagome again.  The soft, playful smile on her lips made me hunger to capture them with my own all over again.  Of course, I knew I wanted a lot more than just a kiss.  I wanted a lot more than just a moment too.  “Kagome,” I purred, tugging her against me and pressing my lips to hers.  She accepted my kiss without complaint, her soft mouth moving against mine in a way that left no room for doubt that she wanted me too.  It was almost more than my beast could handle, forcing me to pull away to calm myself.  I had been explaining something to her, something important.  Damn if I could remember what it was.

“You were telling me about mikos and youkai,” she reminded me gently, her voice reflecting her slightly aroused state.  It was a continuous struggle, but I managed not to go in for another kiss.

“Right.  The first time I was purified, it was a miko named Kikyo.”

“Wait, Kikyo of Shikon no Tama fame?”  I jumped.  Kagome knew of her?  Obviously the stories were written in history books but I had never anticipated that Kagome would remember those stories.  I nodded.  “Wow.  I mean... wow!  You're the half demon they talk about.  My family comes from the Sunset Shrine in Tokyo, the same Shinto shrine that was built to replace the one from the warring states period.”  She chuckled softly.  “Small world.”

Having read the stories enough times myself to know them by heart, I knew what they said about me.  What I was curious to know was what Kagome's interpretation was.  “Pretty conniving and diabolical.”

Kagome scoffed.  “I don't know which stories you've been reading, but the way my grandfather has always told it, Kikyo lost her life and the love of her life the day the jewel disappeared.”  I couldn't miss the moment her face changed as she realized more completely that the person she was talking about was right in front of her.  “I'm sorry, I...”  I shook my head.

“It was, obviously, a very long time ago.”

“More than five hundred years a long time ago.”  Her mouth twisted in a motion that told me she wanted to ask something.  “The hanyou in the story... he was pinned to a tree in the forest forever.  Obviously you disappeared and they just had to end the story.”

If only that were the truth.  “No, I was pinned for almost five hundred years.”  Kagome's mouth dropped open.  I smiled a little.  “I didn't know what woke me until a few years ago.  I was in the woods somewhere, woods surrounded by buildings that were so obviously not of my time.”

Kagome's face became sympathetic.  “That must have been very disconcerting.”

“More than a little.  I stayed in those woods as long as I could stand and then started prowling the city at night, listening to what I could, watching humans live their lives.  Eventually I knew I would have to find a way to blend in.”  I shook my head.  “An old man found me in the woods that very night.  He was obviously as surprised to find me there as I was to see him.  But not for the reason I expected.  He said he had never expected me to wake up and that his family had been guarding the land around where I was imprisoned for hundreds of years.”  I looked Kagome over.  “He told me that he knew of a miko who could help me hide my features, and brought me to her to learn the illusion you normally see.”

“He... he was never frightened of you?”

I laughed.  “No, which confused me more than anything.  I asked him why he wasn't.”  I took a deep breath.  “He told me that he knew that my life had been stolen from me by a trick and he smiled at me strangely.  'I believe your new life was born only two months ago.  Wait for her, she will find you.'  It was the oddest thing anyone had ever said to me, and I didn't understand what he meant until a few years ago.”  Nothing I could do or say would make the next part of my story less weird or creepy sounding, so I plunged on.  “He helped me get acclimated in the city before leaving me on my own in the forest.  He never told me his name, or how he knew what had happened, but I had a feeling I would see him again eventually.”

“When did you find Shippo?”

“A couple years later.  I guess it would have been... 1987?  I ventured into the woods a lot to clear my head.  I would go further out from the city to find quiet and one day I found the Thunder Brothers, as they liked to call themselves, about to kill a fox youkai kit.  He was only... three or four.”

Kagome gaped at me.  “Shippo is only a few years older than me?  When you were talking about finding him, I thought for sure he was...  Wow.  So them accelerating him through school isn't completely off.”

“He's just puny, so it's easier to explain him as younger than he really is.”  Kagome pushed my arm playfully.  “He'll hit his next growth spurt soon and then there'll be no living with him.”

Kagome mused over what I had told her so far.  “So you learned all about the modern world in a few years, put yourself through school and what?  How did you end up here?”

That's where it got creepy.   “The man who helped me told me that the city was taking my forest and making it a public park, so I couldn't live there anymore.  His family was moving, he said, across the ocean.  His son had died and his daughter-in-law had gotten a job offer in California to teach Japanese to high school kids.”

“Huh, my mom teaches Japanese at the University of...”  Kagome's face widened again in shock as she slowly turned to face me more fully.  “My grandfather helped you.  He knew that you were there the whole time.”  I could only nod.  “What year did you wake up, Inuyasha?” she whispered.  “What month?”

“September of 1985.”  

Kagome simply blinked at me for a long moment.  “That's... that's when I was born.”

“I know.”

TBC

@lemonlushff , @fantastiqueparfait , @heavenin--hell, @clearwillow , @mamabearcat , @thunderpo , @keichanz , @meggz0rz , @disgruntledbeast , @sarah-writes-stories , @zelink-inukag , @cammysansstuff , @mcornilliac , @redflamesofpassion , @superpixie42 , @underwater0phelia , @cstorm86 , @noviceotakus-blog , @lavendertwilight89 , @hinezumi , @wenchster , @hnnwnchstr , @lady-dark-69 , @itzatakahashi , @juliatheanimelover7 , @kazeinori , @theinuyashareader , @inupotter , @eternalnight8806-3 , @smmahamazing , @willowandfog , @gaysonthefloor , @sistasecbhere , @jennybean91 , @alerialblu, @laurenintheskyy

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully  /  that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 14

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Support my Patreon and get access to exclusive stories.  CLICK HERE

-

The looming threat of John Winchester grows ever closer. 

For a few days, you have Greta as a company. She’s constantly angry, hovering somewhere on the verge of defeat but she talks to you like you're a person. It’s mostly just her exposition on how much she hates Dean and what she’ll do to him one day when she takes her revenge, but you don’t mind listening. She makes you feel alive and like you’re not in this alone. 

And then one day she’s gone. Dean leaves early one morning taking her with him and you’re again commended to the solitary life of waiting for a stoic Sam who makes ill-suited company. 

-

“Let me see.” Sam sits shirtless on the edge of the bed. He’s covered in a thin layer of dirt and bruises over this chest and arms. He’s been spending long days with the troops. The hoots and hollers can be heard all across the camp. Men fighting each other for sport, and Sam is no exception. He loves a good brawl more than any of them and he often comes bearing the marks of another man’s knife or fist. 

Tonight he waits patiently as you pull up your nightgown and rollover. 

Since the branding, your spirit has taken a blow. Most days you do nothing more than lie in bed. At first, it was to alleviate the pain, but now it’s to alleviate the stark surroundings of your reality. His fingers trail over the mark on your backside, but he says nothing. With a tap at your hip, you roll over and let him inspect the brand on your inner thigh. He unwraps the bandage while you stare at the ceiling. 

“What do you think of it?” he asks with interest. As if you should admire his handiwork. 

“I haven’t looked,” you admit.

“Haven’t looked?” he balks. “It’s been nearly two weeks.” 

“I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.” 

“Then look now, while I’m here.” When you close your eyes he sighs, wrapping a large, wide hand around your knee and squeezing. “Look at it.” 

Pushing down the dread you prop yourself up, taking a breath before looking down. The flesh is pink, raised and newly healed. It’s a thin outline of the letters S and W with the small recreation of his family’s crest below. 

“Why?” you whisper, staring at the wound. “Why did you do this to me?”

Sam’s confused, a genuine perplexity settles over his face. 

“Because you’re mine.” 

You laugh out of exasperation. This is what life has come to. He marked you because you’re his. It’s so simple. He thinks you should already understand. 

“And to keep you safe,” he continues. “There are countless men, Alphas, that will never see an Omega in the flesh. I don’t want anyone thinking they can just take you. My mark would make any man think twice.”

“Oh,” you counter, anger bubbling up faster than you can suppress it. “That’s why it’s between my legs? So if another man tries to force himself on me he’ll see it?”

“Yes.” He ignores your frustrations and gets up. “You don’t understand it, but you will. That mark is a gift. If you were taken, any man who found you would know who to return you to.”

“You think someone is going to take me?”

“We’re at war. There are no absolutes. Circumstances change in the blink of an eye. Anything can happen.” The muscles of his back flex, growing bruises bleeding into yellowing healed spots from the week before. 

There’s no point in entertaining this conversation. In his mind you should be grateful he’s taken such care to leave you with this declaration of ownership. Luckily, you’ve become a master of redirecting the moment. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and adjust your skirt. 

“Would you like me to wash you?” you ask, nodding toward the tub from your afternoon bath. “It’s probably still warm. I’ll put some water on the fire to warm it up.”

You’ve discovered over the last month that he responds favorably when you present your plans instead of ask. So you set water to warm. Sam strips down and sinks into the bath without a word. Once the pot is steaming you carefully carry it over to him and pour it near his feet then sit at the side of the tub, taking a cloth and washing his back. 

There’s a deep scar along the right side of his spine. You’ve spent hours looking at it while he’s sleeping and always wondered how it got there. 

“How did you get this?” you ask, a finger trailing over the flesh. 

“My father tried to kill me. Well, actually, he wanted Dean to do it. But of course Dean would never go through with it, so John tried himself.”

“Why would he want to kill you?”

“Because he thought I was something evil. No longer a man.” Sam shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

“He had to have cut you deep, this scar is massive.”

“It should have killed me outright. But I’m not sure I can die again. I recovered quickly. And my father learned his place in the order of things.”

As the water turns brown, his skin comes clean. The awful scents of other men’s sweat and blood wash away, leaving nothing but Sam. A strong scent that gives a preview of what’s to come. 

“Your rut is coming?” you ask for confirmation. 

“Yes.” He closes his eyes as you rub a cloth across his back, watching the water rolling across taught muscle. “Does that worry you?”

“A bit. I’ve just heard…”

“What have you heard?”

“Sometimes Alphas can’t control themselves. Especially older...I mean...unmated ones.”

He chuckles, breaking into a smile and turns to look at you. 

“Are you calling me old?”

“No, I, no…”

“It’s alright little bird. I am older than most to be unmated. That’s a fair statement. But you don’t need to be worried. I control myself better than most men. You might even enjoy it.”

Two Days Later

His rut overtakes you both. For Sam it’s an animalistic need to have you. And for you it’s desire beyond reason. His scent curls inside you, vibrating, coming alive until you think you might burst if you can’t have him inside you. 

-

You wake up out of a dead sleep, body so stiff you can hardly move. Sam is beside you, tossing and turning in his sleep, his face creased in distress. 

You imagine you seem just as desperate in a heat. Lust and pain and desire all coming together in an animal need for each other. You could fight this feeling; resist giving in to what you want and he needs, but there’s no point. Physical pleasure has become the last ray of hope and you might as well hang on to it for as long as you can. 

“Sam,” you murmur, getting to your knees and lifting a leg over his waist. His naked cock is thick and tall, hot skin thumping against your stomach as you straddle him. 

His eyes are still closed, body radiating the heat of his rut like a fever that’s about to break. His head presses back into the pillow when you wrap a hand around his shaft, stroking down and then up under the head of his cock. Precum drips from the head, and you wipe it away with your thumb. 

In one motion, you lift up and sink back down with him inside you. That familiar stretch sending pings of pleasure out in all directions. 

His eyes pop open, meeting yours in a surprised look before dropping down to where your bodies are joined together. Both hands curl over your hips, fingers sinking into flesh as he rolls you quickly onto your back, sinking balls deep back into your cunt with one powerful thrust. 

The connection you felt to him before is nothing compared to the growing desperation you feel for each other in this moment. There’s an energy building in your chest, pressure swelling as he moves faster, his hips slapping against your thighs. 

Your clit is throbbing, just a feather’s touch away from sending you over the edge.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut in concentration as sweat drips from the end of his nose, landing on your stomach. 

“Please,” you find yourself begging without even trying to speak. 

His eyes open again, looking down at you. With one hand he pushes soaked hair away from his forehead. The room feels as if it’s spinning, the moment careening out of control. 

“I’m going to claim you,” he explains, his eyes just as hungry as every other part of his body. 

“I want it,” you nod vigorously. With one hand you reach up, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for a messy kiss. His tongue glides over yours, tasting, searching, before pulling back. “Please.”

The rest is a blur. His knot thickens, and just as you cum his teeth sink into your neck. His bite is deep but the pain is tempered by the pleasure of your climax. You shake around him, wrapping your arms over his back and holding him as close as you can. 

His dead drops into the crook of your neck, hips still moving until he’s got nothing left to give. There’s hot breath at your pulse point while he licks at the wound. His tongue seals the open flesh, sucking and teasing until he’s as boneless as you and collapses on the bed at your side. 

-

Sam stares at the ceiling of the tent, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you where you’re curled into his side. 

He shouldn’t have done it. 

Alphas in Gilead don’t claim Omega’s outside of marriage. You’re meant to be a part of the ceremony, a wedding where he’ll be wed to a Beta of high social standing. Only then would he have the blessing of his father to claim you. 

What the hell happened to his self-control? One moment it was fucking the next minute you were...everything. The whole world narrowed down to the woman in his bed, asking to be his. 

He has to own it, he has no choice. If anyone senses even a hint of trepidation, they’ll take you from him. It’s what should happen, what the law demands. The offending Alpha is beheaded and the Omega paired off with some Alpha who’ll get what he can before she begins to fade. Without her mate, the Omega dies a slow death that sometimes takes years but always kills in the end. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. He does. Sam has zero interest in an uptight Beta, but he also knows he should have waited. He’s just created a whole host of complications and his father will be all too happy to find a reason to reprimand him. 

-

You stir at his side, waking up slowly as your eyes flutter open. You’re not truly awake as your mouth curls into a sleepy smile, eyes closing again as you nuzzle closer until your face is pressed into the side of his neck. 

That’s when he feels it, a pang in his stomach that’s there for a second and then gone. He shifts, pulling your body into his, skin on skin while you purr like a happy cat at his side. This isn’t a bad feeling. He doesn’t mind you being bonded to him in such a permanent way and if it keeps you more content, then it’s worth it. But it certainly does impose a whole set of complications he wasn’t anticipating. 

-

“Did you kill her?” Dean inspects your lifeless form, nodding from the bloody sheets, to his brother. 

“No.” Sam looks at you as well, gaze lingering longer than it should. “I claimed her.”

Dean’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything. He stews in silence for some time. 

“Are you trying to create a situation? You know how dad is going to-”

“I know.” Sam raises a hand. 

“At first I thought she was good for you. You were less agitated, not so much of a temper, but she’s proving to be a problem.”

“She’s my problem then,” Sam snaps back.