#'a no man's land between love and hate' should be written on the gate above arkham asylum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

realcube · 3 years

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maybe love || tobio kageyama x reader

summary: you’re sick and kageyama skips volleyball practise to take care of you but it makes him realise that..perhaps he loves you more than volleyball?

you don’t need to read part one for this to make sense but here’s a link anyway: nurse’s office || kageyama x reader

tw// sick! reader, fem reader

“God fucking dammit, (L/N).” Kageyama cursed under his breath, occasionally glancing down at the messaged displayed on his phone screen as he impulsively jogged passed the gates of the school once the bell rang to head to your house. He was well aware that he’d be skipping volleyball club - when there was a practise game against Nekoma right around the corner - but upon reading your text, his first thought was that he desperately needed to see you.

To be honest, he didn’t really care that he was missing volleyball practise, which was weird considering that - before he met you - he couldn’t think of a single person that he’d miss volleyball club for. Maybe like..his mum?

His light job that eventually picked up the pace into more of a sprint really put things into perspective for him; he was seriously whipped for you. But it was kinda refreshing though, since up until the day he first interacted with you, all he could think about was volleyball. But after y’all started going out, a part of you constantly lingered in his mind along with his interest in game shows which you also introduced him to.

As the cold winter air gracefully laced through his thick, ravenette locks, his mind ended up wandering back to the day he first met you - what he considered to be one of his fondest memories, not that he’d ever say that aloud though.

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

Kageyama groaned in annoyance at the sight of the milk carton which he paid for getting trapped between the shelf of the machine and the glass. On any other day, he would just leave it or maybe buy a second carton to push the first one out but today, he was absolutely parched with no money or water on his person.

He glanced at the clock which hung above the vending machine - 5:20PM - before scanning the pathways on either side of him and as he assumed, the school was absolutely deserted. So, he figured he was in the clear to start shaking the whole machine in hopes the beverage would fall out.

Then, a faint humming came into ear-shot which he chose to tune out until it started to get a bit too close for comfort and before he knew it, the source of the noise rounded the corner and began making it’s way towards him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed who it was and his heart skipped a beat; of course his crush was still in school and just so happened to walk right outside as soon as Kageyama wrapped his arms around the machine and was violently shaking it - he believed whole-heartedly that god hated him.

As soon as his eyes landed on the figure at the end of the hallways, he froze as his eyes also widened - not really sure what exactly to do in this situation but now that he had stopped shaking the machine it appeared as though he was hugging it, yet he was still too awkward to move.

You both stared at each other for a while in dead silence, waiting for the other one to do something but it never happened so you figured that you’d have to break the ice. So you strolled up to him with a friendly smile, “These damn machines.” You grumbled, running a hand through your freshly trimmed hair, “I’m guessing your drink got stuck?”

Kageyama blinked rapidly, pleasantly surprised that you didn’t mention anything about his seemingly intimate interaction with the vending machine so he took the chance to hastily back away from it. “Uh, yeah.” He replied lowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

In all honesty, Kageyama was ready to drop an excuse to leave and sprint home despite the fact his body was begging for fluid; he’d do anything to get away from his crush and the awkward atmosphere surrounding both of them.

However, the tension was lifted slightly as he heard a loud thud which jolted him out of his brainstorming of excuses. He perked up, his eyes instantly landing on the source of the noise - you aggressively kicking the side of the machine. Followed by the thumping of the milk carton as it dropped from it’s unfortunate position wedged behind the glass, to the compartment behind the flap where it belonged.

Upon noticing the relieved smile forming on his features and the seemingly genuine ‘thank you’ fall from his lips, you couldn’t help but beam too - proceeding to kneel down to grab his drink from the compartment before standing up a few steps in front of him, “You’re on the volleyball team, right? Uh, your name is on the tip of my tongue.” You spoke in attempt to make conversation with the boy, tapping your chin with your index finger as you thought. “Ummm- oh! Tsukishima?”

Kageyama’s heart dropped along with his short-lived smile, “Uh, no!” He barked defensively, furrowing his brows, “I sit next to you in English! I’m, uh, Tobio Kageyama.” He stammered on the last part slightly as his temporary burst of rage quickly died down as your harmonious laugh rung through his ears and you playfully slapped his shoulder, making him blush a lot more than he should.

“I know, I know; I was just messing with you, Kageyama. I had no idea you’d get so pressed.” You panted through chortles, wiping away an imaginary tear from your eye. Something about the way his adorable lil’ blueberry face tired to form a scowl was just so funny to you. “Your hilarious, man.”

Being called ‘man’ by a female was not something that has happened to him before, so of course it confused him as to why he found it so endearing. “Pressed? Is that a new English vocab word?” He asked without a second thought, as most words he didn’t understand were stuff that he was supposed to learn in class but it actually just went over his head.

That question turned your laughs into cackles as you hunched over, grasping your stomach for dear life, real tears of joy spilling from your eyes. At this point, Kageyama was beginning to fear that he might’ve broken you, so he asked concernedly, “Uh, (L/N), are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

It brought him great relief when you finally forced yourself to stand up straight to regain composure and your cackles faded away into heavy breathing, “I’m fine, babe. Don’t bother- I know that you probably don’t know the number for 911 anyway.” You joked, instinctively pulling out your pocket mirror to check if you messed up your lashes - and luckily, you didn’t.

Ignoring the fact that you were right about him not knowing how to contact 911, he chose to focus on how you called him ’babe’. Does that mean you like him? Or is that just friendly talk? Hinata has never called him ‘babe’ before.. so maybe it is a flirting thing? But if that was the case, why did you call him ‘man’ too? Maybe you just had weird choices of friendly nicknames? The only conclusion that Kageyama could come to while his brain was running on over-drive was that you seriously have him fucked up.

“Ah,” you hissed, catching a glimpse of the time on the clock behind you as you gazed into your mirror, “I should probably get going.” You shoved the mirror back into your jacket pocket, then pulled out a pen to scrawl something along the top of his milk carton which you had kept in your spare hand for this reason.

Once you finished, you handed him the carton while simultaneously putting your pen away and as soon as the held the drink firmly in his hands, you sped off down the hall; not only so you weren’t late but also because you were too shy to look Kageyama in the eyes as he read what you wrote on his milk. Perhaps it was a rather dorky way of making a move but the opportunity was there so you took it. “See you later!”

“Bye!” Kageyama called out, his eyes not averting from your figure until you rushed around a corner and disappeared from his sight.

He sighed of both relief and sadness as it was a shame that the encounter was so short but Kageyama was also glad that he managed to make it through the whole thing without saying anything too stupid.

He automatically tore the straw off of the side of the carton, peeling off the protective plastic and before he stabbed it through the top of his beverage, he took a moment to study what you had written on it and he couldn’t help but smile.

Of course, it was your number. And obviously he inputted it into his contacts the first chance he got.

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

Kageyama saw your house approaching on the horizon and he bit his lip at the realisation that he had no idea how he was going to get inside as usually you’d be aware that he’s coming over and open the door beforehand but you had already expressed your disapproval for him visiting you while you’re sick.

However, he managed to compromise with you during lunch so he was allowed to come see you after volleyball practise but once the bell rang, his instincts told him that he needed to be with you as soon as possible.

He trotted up to your front door, murmuring his prayers as he rattled the door handle - letting out a breath through his nose as the door opened, enabling Kageyama to slide inside, gently shut the door behind him, slip his shoes off and trek up to your room.

“Kageyama?” you whined, rubbing your eyes as you heard the sound of familiar paces ascending up the stairs. There was no need for you to even glance at the time displayed on your alarm clock for you to know that volleyball hadn’t finished yet, but for some reason dopeyama was still outside your bedroom door.

“Can I come in?” he asked, lightly chapping on your bedroom door a few times and then invited himself inside once he heard a groan from inside your room, taking it as a yes.

As he entered the room - immediately being greeted by the signature overwhelming scent of vanilla essence - he threw his bag down by the door before flopping down at the end of your bed, giving himself the chance to catch his breath.

“Kageyama,” you moaned, feeling him crush your feet as he laid back on them, “Why the fuck are you here?” Didn’t I tell you to go to practise first? Your temperature had gotten better since this morning but you were still too fatigued to deal with your boyfriend’s antics right now.

After hastily shifting his position at the end of your bed so he was no longer squashing your ankles, he shot you a sympathetic look accompanied by a gentle pat on the leg, “I don’t know. I just had the feeling that I needed to see you quickly - probably boyfriend intuition.”

You scoffed in attempt to hide the chuckle brimming at the back of your throat, “Ah, yes. Well, you and your ‘boyfriend intuition’ should probably go back to practise.”

However, your comment was just met by Kageyama’s blank stare.

As much as it pained you to think through your splitting headache, you couldn’t help but wonder why Kageyama would do something like that just to see you and what was this ‘boyfriend intuition’ he spoke of? (and where did he even learn the word ‘intuition’ - it seems a bit advanced for his vocabulary, to be honest.)

You weren’t alone in your confusion though, Kageyama was equally - if not more - puzzled as to why he felt so selfless today. It frustrated him to no end as to why he was unable to pinpoint an answer.

Plus, the more he gazed longingly - or rather, gawped - into your eyes, he felt a warm, foreign feeling spread throughout his chest; for a moment, he thought he was about to have a heart-attack but he quickly omitted that idea as the sensation didn’t hurt at all - in fact, he found it quite pleasant, hence he was unable to pry his eyes off you.

“Kags, what are you doing? You eventually questioned as you found that his intense gaze was preventing you from relaxing.

Upon hearing your voice interrupt his spiralling thoughts, he was able to finally blink and clear the tinge of red that was beginning to form in his eyes from holding them open for so long.

Kageyama simply sighed, completely disregarding your question as he blurted out the compliment that his mind has been urging him to say since he first walked into the room, “You’re so beautiful.” His apathetic tone didn’t assist in making it seem genuine but the fact he chose to use ‘beautiful’ rather than ‘cool’ or ‘pretty’ like he usually does, was quite impressive.

Without delay, you yanked the duvet up to hide your face as you muttered curses under your breath directed at Kageyama and his poorly-timed ‘jokes’. What you failed to realise was that Kageyama was being dead serious but your insecurities wouldn’t allow you to believe that he would sincerely compliment you while knowing that you weren’t wearing any make-up and you probably looked like a mess. Not that you’d know though as you hadn’t looked in a mirror since yesterday night - perhaps your bed-head was cute?

Your answer along with how you thought he was mocking you, quickly made Kageyama defensive of his statement. “Dumb-ass, it wasn’t a joke.” His aggressive tone making an expected comeback. He tugged on the blanket so it escaped your weak grip and he could see your face again, the cozy feeling returning to his chest as he momentarily held eye-contact with you.

You pouted now that your upper body was exposed to the chilly climate of your room due to Kageyama pulling your blanket away, “Did you come here just to annoy me?” You whined, leaning forward to snatch your duvet back so you could shield your torso from the nippy air. “And why do you keep staring at me with that stupid look on your face?” You snapped, aware that your accusatory behaviour could be mistaken as ungratefulness but in your defence, your pounding headache and general nausea wasn’t helping you be the kindest, most patient version of yourself at the moment.

Luckily, Kageyama paid no mind to your critical tone and instead focussed on wracking his mind for an answer to your question but of course, he had nothing.

He knew better than to keep hiding his feeling and issues from you, though. As he had been open to you about his problems in the past and nothing but good things came afterwards; you aided Kageyama in his dilemma so it’s not as if you had a bad track record with understand or listening.

Plus, when you and him first started dating, he had no idea how to do..anything, basically. So he went to Sugawara (and Tanaka, but that’s a different story) for advice and the rule Suga put the most emphasis on was to ‘always be honest with your partner and communicate’ and - by Kageyama logic - Sugawara had grey hair, just like that of old people, therefore he must be wise like old people too.

Anyway, all of these reasons - including the fact that Kageyama wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions around you - led to him doing the rather embarrassing act of attempting to explain his situation to you, baring in mind that Kageyama was far from silver tongued.

“I don’t know - I just felt like I had to come here to see you instead of going to practise because I hated the idea that you might be, like.. suffering, I guess.” he unravelled, selecting each word carefully to make sure he doesn’t say something either cringey or confusing. “And whenever I look at you I get a weird feeling in my chest and at first I thought I was having a heart-attack but I kinda ruled that out because I remembered when my sister told me that diary was good for the heart.”

You hummed understandingly, getting a little giggle out of Kageyama’s last comment. “Perhaps someone made a Voodoo doll of you and - coincidentally - sticks a peg through it’s heart every time you look at me.” You suggested jokingly but frowning at the look of realisation that struck Kageyama as you said that.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t hurt, though. It’s kinda a nice feeling.” He mused, casually draping his arm over your leg and lightly tapping your thigh with his index finger.

You sighed as you watched the ravenette shift his gaze onto the ceiling, deciding that now would probably be a good time to give him some reassurance as you could tell that he was genuinely troubled.

“Well, I really appreciate you coming over rather than going to volleyball practise, that’s really sweet of you.” However, your attempt at being nice was met by his silence as he continued to stare intently at the ceiling, so you figured you’d give it one more go.

“You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for; I love you, Tobio.” You cooed, frowning as you received nothing but taciturnity in response. However, you simply didn’t have the energy to pry at him right now so you huffed before turning over onto your side, expecting that to be your last interaction with your boyfriend for the day - which would allow you to at least get some rest.

But of course, you’d be mistaken if you thought he was going to let you go to sleep that easily. He shuffled around in the bed until he was hugging your legs as if he was a Koala clinging to a tree, viewing this as the best alternative to spooning as he didn’t want to catch..whatever you had.

His rested against his cheek against your mid-thigh comfortably but due to both his height and how far down he was on the bed, half of his body was hanging off the edge. He was completely fine with that though, so long as his top half was relaxed.

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He spoke, muffled by the fabric covering your thigh. “More than volleyball.” He felt the need to add, finally realising that he had grown a soft-spot for you that he was more than happy to accept.

That was more than enough to set your cheeks ablaze so you buried your face into your pillow to hide it; something about what he said set off fireworks in your mind. It was the addition of 3 words that truly touched your heart as you knew that you’d no longer have to sit in second place against a sport - which wasn’t competition that you’d often worry about but simply a thought that you harboured.

To hide how flustered you were, you outstretched your arm to teasingly ruffle Kageyama’s hair but after heinous act, you were simply met by an underwhelming grumble of disapproval. “Go to sleep, stupid.”

Ah yes, we love to see it, folks. Kageyama being the softest one moment and the biggest bitch the next. An Icon.

#kageyama x reader #kageyama #tobio x y/n #haikyuu tobio #tobio x reader #kegayama tobio #tobio fluff #kageyama fluff #kageyama x y/n #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyū!!

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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Rags & Riches {1}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU.Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Shoutout to @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty for helping me with chapter 1! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think & comment if you wanna be tagged. :)

Elain had always loved the rain.

It was necessary for the life cycle of her precious flowers. They had to brave the storm to embrace their beauty. She watched the thick droplets pour down, hitting the glass of the window with a soft pitter-patter.

“Miss Elain?”

Elain jumped, peering over her shoulder from where she sat near the windowpane in the library. Nesta was across the room, sitting by the fireplace with her nose in a book, as she usually was. She wasn’t sure where Feyre had gone. Their younger sister had claimed to go to bed just after supper, but they both knew she wasn’t in her bedchamber.

Elain rose as Alis approached.

“Your father wishes to see you in his study,” she said.

Elain nodded her head in thanks before Alis curtsied and scurried away.

She stood frozen, watching her leave.

Nesta, eyes still on the pages before her, asked, “Well? Are you going?”

Elain nodded, unable to move.

She knew what was coming and she surely wasn’t ready for it. Of course, it was time. It was her duty. She was of age and of a noble household.

Nesta said nothing more, but Elain knew her older sister’s eyes were now on her.

Elain nodded, once more, and hurried out of the library and down the hall to her father’s study. He was seated behind his large mahogany desk, writing a letter by the candlelight. Elain stepped inside and gave a gentle knock against the doorframe.

He looked up and blinked a few times before smiling. “Ah. Darling, come in, please.”

Elain did as she was told, sitting across from him in one of his guest chairs.

“It’s late,” was all she said. “I was planning on going to bed soon.”

Lord Archeron smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I only wanted to say that there is a man that wishes to court you. He has written, saying that he saw you at the Hale’s ball last month and thought you were of the utmost beauty. He will join us here, on Friday, to introduce himself.”

Elain was not surprised. She cleared her throat before asking, “And may I ask his name?”

“Lucien Vanserra,” Lord Archeron replied. “The Vanserra’s are well known for their business. Perhaps you’ve heard of his father, Beron.”

Elain had. She had heard many things about Beron Vanserra, none of them pleasant.

He must have seen the change in her features, because he then said, “Do not worry, my dear. Lucien is a great man with a great reputation. He will be a good match for you.”

Elain nodded, nibbling on her lip - a habit in which her mother would have instantly chastised, if she were still alive.

“That’s all, dear,” Lord Archeron said, dipping his quill back into his ink. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, father,” Elain said, rising to her feet, although it was hardly more than a whisper. Once she turned, she soon halted, finding who stood just inside the doorway. She hadn’t even heard him come in. He must’ve heard every word.

Elain’s heart sank even further into the pit of her stomach.

“Ah, Azriel, come in,” Lord Archeron said from behind Elain.

“Sorry to interrupt, my Lord,” Azriel said, voice low as he approached his Lord’s desk. “A letter arrived for you.”

Azriel handed her father a sealed envelope with his white-gloved hand before bowing to him, then to Elain, and excusing himself.

Elain watched him walk away before she collected herself. “Goodnight, father,” she said, once more, before excusing herself.

Lord Archeron mumbled a goodnight after she had walked out of the door.

The house was quiet as Elain made her way down the hallway. She passed the library, where Nesta was still sitting by the fire with her novel, and toward the proper sitting room that remained lifeless.

Since her mother’s passing, their house seemed smaller. It was one thing when they had guests over, but when they didn’t, it was only the four of them. Her father spent most of his time in his study, Nesta spent most of hers in the library, and no one truly knew what Feyre spent her time doing.

Elain couldn’t scold her younger sister, though. She had a secret of her own.

He was standing in the corner of the room, close to a floor-length window covered in heavy gold-trimmed curtains. She approached him, quietly, and when she stood within a breaths-width, she reached up to place her palm gently against his smooth cheek.

He melted into her touch, eyes closing.

Neither of them said a word.

There was not much to say.

They knew their love affair couldn’t last, if it could even be called that. It had been mild flirtations, sneaking innocent kisses, and attempting to meet one another’s eyes from across the room for nearly a year.

But she was crazy about him, although no one would ever, could ever, know.

And now she was of the age in which she would have to be married.

To a rich man, of course. Anyone else would be considered shameful.

“I have to go,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. “Alis is expecting me downstairs.”

Elain nodded, attempting a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel,” she said, in return.

He slipped away, out of her embrace and through the doorway before she could form another thought.

She didn’t watch him go.

Every time he left, it hurt too much.

For every time he walked away, it could be the last time.

~~~~~~

Nesta hated brushing her own hair.

Her mother brushed it for her when she was young, then her lady’s maid before they had to let the ladies’ maids go after their father’s gambling addiction had caused them to reevaluate their household budget.

But as her hair grew long, as she was able to braid into more beautiful and elegant twists and knots, it’s constant upkeep frustrated her to no limits.

After she finally was able to pull the brush through with no snags or tangles, she left it to hang loose around her shoulders and opened her balcony doors, letting the cool night air sweep in. The rain had recently subsided, but the scent lingered. She stepped out, breathing in the smell of their manor house, though her room, unfortunately, was above the stables.

It wasn’t overwhelming, thanks to the mild summer they were having, but it still was a smell she had taken years to become accustomed to. She looked out into the dark expanse of their land, trying to find a bit of movement she wasn’t sure if she should be expecting.

There was a lantern still lit in the stables and Nesta could see a form of a shadow moving against the wall, but she paid the stable boy no mind. He often worked late hours, and it wasn’t uncommon for his lantern to be lit well after Nesta fell asleep.

She heard the rustling of leaves and twigs and turned to the south side of the manor, seeing him emerge from a small garden Elain had planted by the fountains.

Her stomach both dropped and tightened in anticipation. Anticipation of the pleasure she would soon be feeling, but also of the pain. There was almost certainly always a little bit of pain. But after she endured the pain, she got to bask in the numbness, relish in the glorious in between of sleep and consciousness.

Tomas Mandray had been claiming for almost two years that at the next ball he attended, he’d make the proclamation for her hand. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was frustrated by the fact that he’d been dragging his feet or relieved. But as he climbed the lattice beneath her window, crushing Elain’s gorgeous roses she’d painstakingly tended to, she had to wonder if his delay was a curse or if it were secretly a blessing.

Nesta wasn’t even sure if she wanted to be married, she had never met anyone who made her excited at the thought. The idea of spending the rest of your life with the same man, a man who thought you were nothing more than a pretty face or an arm ornament…

No, Nesta wasn’t sure about marriage, but it was expected of her.

Although, everyone knew Elain would be the one to marry first. She was charming and beautiful, kind and welcoming...and had always wanted to be a wife.

Nesta loved her sisters, but they were all so different she had no idea how they had been born to the same set of parents.

Tomas crept along the shadows of the garden until he reached the side of the house. He kept along it until he reached the spot he was able to climb. She watched as he climbed, watched to make sure no one was around to witness. The stable boy didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

He hopped down onto her balcony with a thud before examining Nesta in her nightdress. She didn’t back down from his hungry gaze.

~~~~~~

Cassian was exhausted.

He had been working as a stable boy for a week, but it felt like much longer. He liked it, though. He liked being outside, working with the horses. They were beautiful creatures. He admired them.

“Goodnight, Marigold,” he said, locking up the mare’s gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

The horse huffed in reply, making Cassian chuckle. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

He grabbed his lantern from where it hung and walked out of the stable for the night. The night was foggy, the air brisk. Cassian loved this weather. He loved it even more at night.

As he was about to head back around to the servant’s entrance, Cassian halted. He could see directly into Lady Nesta’s bedchamber, and she wasn’t alone.

A man, probably around Cassian’s age, had his hands wandering up her thighs, and his mouth pressed roughly against hers. Cassian wasn’t familiar with living the noble life, but he was pretty sure she was doing it wrong.

He didn’t realize he was staring until a set of gray-blue eyes met his own.

Cassian hurried away, hoping she didn’t catch him, but knowing full well that she did.

~~~~~~

Feyre felt invincible with a handful of cards. Especially as she sat at a table full of men.

Women shouldn’t gamble. They claimed it was because it was “unladylike”, but Feyre knew it was because women were smarter than men. If women began to gamble, men would be out of the sport.

Which is why she always wore trousers and a loose tunic when she visited the gambling den, why she always wore a cap, with her hair tied back.

She mostly observed, not speaking, not playing her hand. Every once in a while, she’d make a play, only betting when she knew she’d win. Only upping the pot by a little at a time, so she could stay under the radar.

She’d just won a hand, taking the pot of over $600, and began scraping it into her pouch. She nodded to the rest of the men at her table and slunk back into the darkness, ready to disappear into the night. She slipped out the side door, as she always did, and paused, weighing the heft of her bag on her hip.

She had done well.

She suddenly wished she had someone to brag to.

As she took a step toward the street, the door swung open behind her and a tall brute came stumbling out.

His green eyes grazed over her, a wicked smile contorting his lips.

“You are no man,” he said in way of greeting, his voice deep and slurred and coated with rum.

Feyre turned her back to him, taking another step toward the street. She didn’t want to run, didn’t want to seem panicked, but there was one thing she knew - drunk men who followed ladies into allies were not to be trusted.

“Nor are you,” she said, her chin lifted high. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As soon as she began to move, his hand grasped hers, pulling her back.

Feyre was strong, intelligent. But, she was no match for a man twice her size and built with pure muscle.

He held her close to him, his head bent down, lips close to her neck. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

“Let me go,” she demanded, hoping her voice sounded as intimidating as she wanted it to.

“But I haven’t had my fun yet,” he whispered, pushing her up against the brick wall of the gambling den. She could hear the ruckus from inside, could hear the laughter of those winning and the regret of those who have lost.

Feyre tried to move, tried to lift her knee to his balls, but couldn’t move a muscle as his giant body pinned hers into stillness.

“You’re quite lovely,” he slurred, lips soft on her neck. “Even in men’s clothing.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes closed. She prayed to whoever was listening that he’d drop dead before his hands could explore any further.

“I promise this will all be worth your while,” he said, his tongue grazing her neck.

“Is this how you get all your women?”

Feyre’s eyes shot open as her attacker released his grip. Those green eyes were infuriated as they shot toward the end of the alley.

The newcomer wore a fine suit. His dark hair was swept back, his lavender eyes bright in the shadows of the lanterns.

“I have to admit, Tamlin,” he began, his hands shoved into his pockets as he meandered closer to the pair. “Your standards in women seemed to have lowered.”

He was close enough now that when Feyre spat, it landed directly on his expensive shoes.

He blinked, lifting his brows, humored. “He’s the one that tries to take a bite of you and I’m the one you spit on?”

“Get out, Rhysand,” her attacker, Tamlin, hissed. “This do-doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m sure your father will be pleased to find you’ve spent your night out drinking and whoring around,” Rhysand grinned, “again. Now, if you’ll move, I’ll be escorting this lovely woman, with an interesting fashion sense, home.”

As he reached his hand toward her, Feyre took a step back toward the door. “I can take care of myself. Thanks.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tamlin scowled, then looked to Rhysand. “You, however-”

Rhysand’s fist made contact with Tamlin’s jaw, instantly knocking him down, unconscious.

“I hate that guy,” he muttered, bright eyes reconnecting with Feyre’s own. “Now, where were we?”

“I was going home,” Feyre said, brushing past him.

“You know, it’s not safe for a woman out here, alone, at night,” Rhysand crooned, following her, hands back into his pockets.

“Ah,” Feyre sighed, “you’ve cracked the code of why I’m dressed as a man.”

Rhysand snorted. “More like a boy.”

Feyre spun around as she reached the street. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Rhysand took a moment to think about it. “No… No, not really.”

With a roll of her eyes, Feyre continued on, back toward the way of her home.

“I believe a ‘thank you’ is in order,” Rhysand said, jogging until he was in front of her, walking backward so that he could watch her reaction.

“Thank you? For what?”

“For saving you from that prick,” he said, grinning. “Oh, sorry, your clothing made me forget I was talking to a woman. How dare I use such language?”

“You talk too much,” Feyre scowled.

His grin widened. “Come on. Let me take you home. Live nearby?”

Feyre had to admit the thought was tempting. She was exhausted. “No.”

“All the more reason for me to take you home,” he said, suddenly coming to a halt next to a horse. He patted the brown mare’s side. “Come on.”

“You wear a suit that fine to ride a horse into town?” Feyre asked, lifting a brow.

“I’m not so self-entitled that I would ask my driver to stay awake for half the night to take me into town when I’m perfectly capable of riding my horse,” he said, hauling himself up onto the saddle. “Now, are you going to walk or join me?”

Feyre hesitated, which only seemed to please him.

“That’s what I thought.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite.”

The walk back to the manor was long and all Feyre longed for was to quickly be back home in her bed before the servants woke up for their early morning chores.

She sighed, taking his hand. He helped her onto the horse, and when the mare slowly began to walk, he grinned as her arms went flying around his waist.

“I don’t know where I’m taking you,” he said.

“Archeron Manor,” she replied.

“Whoaaa,” he said, bringing his horse to a halt. “You’re a Lady? One of Lord Isaac’s daughters?”

“Feyre,” was all she said.

He kicked the horse in her sides, moving once more.

He cursed under his breath. “What the hell are you doing out here? Gambling? Are you insane?”

Feyre lifted a brow. “I can’t give you all my secrets, can I? We’ve only just met and I don’t trust you for a second.”

A soft laugh shook his sturdy frame. “Fair enough. Don’t worry. I’ll ask again on Friday.”

“Friday?”

“Isn’t your family hosting a ball on Friday? I was invited.” Feyre’s mind went blank at his words, as she tried to quickly run through the guest list she’d glanced at weeks ago, when the invitations were going out. All the names she’d recognized were insignificant men she’d known for years and the ones she didn’t were mostly older lords from surrounding lands.

This man, who exuded grace and danger in such a simple gesture as slipping his hand into his pocket, there was no way he was some lowly lord from her territory.

He confirmed exactly that as he glanced at her over his shoulder, lavender eyes locking with hers, and said, “I’m Lord of Velaris, but you, Feyre, darling, can call me Rhysand.”

_________________________________________________

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 1 #tara writes #tacmc r&r

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signofwolf · 3 years

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Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas – book review

Series: Throne of Glass #7 Genre: YA, Fantasy Theme: Fae, magic users, war Warnings: mentions of torture, imprisonment Star rating: 0,5/10

Why did I pick this up?: I wanted to end this horrible series once and for all.

[Heavy spoilers ahead]

To make myself clear, before this book I quite liked this series. It wouldn’t place in my top 100 books, not even close, but it was a pleasant pageturner to listen to in audiobooks when working.

Language

Let’s start slow. I lack the words to express how much I hate the words ‘male’, ‘female’ and ‘mate’ after this series. Not even gonna try to express my trauma. But these 3 gems aside, Sarah J. Maas needs a dictionary. Or compress her work to a manageable size. Everything sang, Everyone melted, Every man roared, Every woman trembled, Everyone was unleashing themselves at least once a chapter (number of chapters: 122) ). And now I know definitely too much about Yrene’s ‘womb’. I know so much…

Dynamism

I thought that was a book about a war with heavy action content. Oh boy, I was wrong. This 984-pages monstrosity has maybe 5 pages of action. If you squint.

Every sequence, where by design action should take place was followed by one of two scripts:

Few sentences of action and then a few pages long internal monologue. Often repeated with the same character after the next few sentences of action, or with the next character and then the next (sometimes the first character made a second appearance and then everything would go all over again). And the word ‘character’ used in these sentences is not because I’m rambling. This book is written that way!

Few sentences of action and then action stops, and we are graced by a few pages long conversation. In the middle of a battle. Or spying. Or in Erawan’s chambers, when his castle is going down, and he is running up the stairs...

Time

Leaving alone the fact that apparently all series took less than a year (till this book I estimated the plot for about 3 years, Wiki told me it was 2, but Maas knows best), because that is a can of worms in itself. Time in this one? I honestly have no idea. There were many ‘few weeks of travel’ parts with two main groups of POVs. Personally my only time indicator was ‘Orynth won’t fall till Aelin gets here’. But nothing just fit. And I saw Lost Song when in the last episode we as the audience realized that our two POVs parallel storylines are in reality millennia apart. Lost Song made sense.

Emotional loading

… there wasn’t any. Really, it was like reading a milk label. Every time the scene was potentially emotionally impactful, Maas went ahead to overexplaining EVERY. GOD. DAMMED. THING. And it was abso-fucking-lutely everything. ‘Emotional dilemma? Let’s current POV explain it! 2 pages should be enough… Damn maybe it wasn’t enough. I know! I’ll switch POVs and explain it through the other character!’ <= My impression of Maas’ thought process. I’m fairly sure that the record was 7 POVs explaining the same thing in the row, but I was blacking out a little, so I cannot be sure.

And if that wasn’t enough, this book had a second way to defuse tension: random-plastic-repetitive-badly_written-smut. Really badly written and really repetitive. How could you not feel the spicy bits, when Manon (cruel, self assured 100+years old witch-queen) reacts the same in bed as Elide (20years old, virgin, ex-slave). And the rest of them were the same, there weren’t ANY distinctions.Just copy-paste.

The next point in current case: Someone died, it was impactful, I really liked the character, so I got sad. But then 2 of our characters came out of the room with a body, and after a paragraph of grieving they started making out, and then I was regaled with 2-pages-long description of melting cores. That was the place then this book stopped being badly written, and started being distasteful.

Characters

Remember when I was writing about switching POVs (which is 15(!!!) In the whole book. Oh and an omniscient narrator in places when our current POV was grieving too much to overthink something, but Maas still wanted to inform us about something)? They were all savagely murdered in the worst way: character mutilation. Somewhere between books our maybe-not-that-original but colorful and interesting characters became carbon copies of each other. I have no idea how many times I didn’t realise there was a POV switch. The only indicator was a change of pronoun, or when Maas was telling us the name of a current narrator. These were the only ways. And if you can't distinguish if you are in Dorian’s head or in Manon’s, that is the sign of a really BAD writing.

Romance

…there wasn't any. In all this book there wasn't any naturally progressing romantic scene. There were Maas’ endgame pairings which were sexing or pinning. As the author Maas loves to write about soulmates. And it’s not a bad thing itself. When I want some fluffy story I often tag ‘soulmates’ in AO3 and voila, +10 to good mood. But God above, it is not cute when every pair you write about are ‘true mates’ just BECAUSE. It is the only way Maas sees a relationship, as a fated pairing, written in the wake of the universe by the God himself. There is no choice, nor the work to put in it. They are the author's OTP and that means that they are perfect and they should have children right now. Point in case:

Guy was treating a girl like a shit on his sole, including throwing her naked out of tent, on a snow, with their friends present, all the while abusing her verbally in a worst way. But it’s okay, because when she almost died he realised his mistakes and apologised. Two scenes later, he was forgiven, because... fated mates?

The pathos

I know that many people don't like this type of scenes, but it's not my case. I’m reading by picturing images and not repeating words. I like sequences that I can imagine to be grand and glorious, even if they are a little corny. That said, the pathos scenes were the most disappointing ones for me. Maas likes to write parts that are more picturesquely exalted than logically possible [point in case: meeting of 5 armies/forces in the random patch of sand in Empire of Storms, and it being painted as ‘an Aelin’s great plan’. I laughed myself silly at that. But not taking logic and all the plot holes into consideration that was a nicely looking scene. In Kingdom of Ash that wasn’t the case. I would say that the author wanted to paint us a renaissance painting every 20 pages or so. In my opinion, every time she failed miserably. Each and every of those scenes was or to farfetched to be even remotely realistic, and evidently written only for a sake of the picture, or just plainly stupid.

Example, and it’s so priceless a scene, that I just need to share it: Battle of Orynth, 25th day or so (time in this book doesn’t exist), the 13. sacrificed themselves (like thousands before them but hush). And then, time stops: grieving Manon is going through the city, they open the gates for her (yes, the siege is still on), she goes to the place where they died, after her come out all of our main heroes, and half the city itself with ‘flowers, rocks and precious possessions’ and they lay it there in a tribute to these brave (evil till 2 months ago) witches. I honestly can’t remember when was the last time I saw such an abstract scene. It’s a material for an essay in itself. No, I could not take it seriously.

Additionally, it's hard to make an impact as every damn sentence is grand and lofty. In the end it became truly pathetic, Aelin vs Maeve was unreadable.

Character deaths:

Let's make a quick count: main characters in a series at the start of KoA: 12 secondary characters in a series at the start of KoA: 20ish minor and total background: a lot more

Death count: main: 0 secondary: 3 minor: 2 (11 if we try very hard)

Resurrections: 1 (possibly 3, but not gonna analyze it)

Did you feel emotions of this impossible war against this all-encompassing, all-powerful, invincible, immortal, cunning Evil with armies from 3 continents and 2 worlds? No? Me neither.

Oh well, but there were a lot of deaths of ordinary soldiers. I’m quite certain that all of Terrasen’s army was at least twice brought back to life for them to die in these numbers.

Logic or lack thereof

Oh, and let’s not forget about the Deus ex machina army of unbeatable, magical elves on wolves, from legends, living for the past thousands of years in the unreachable lands of the north, because they managed to run from the surprise attack 10 years earlier. Did I mention that they came from portals, which the whole book was telling us were impossible to make in this scenario? After the previous saviour army was already fighting there for a day? And that Aelin didn’t know they would come for sure (how did she contact them again?)? Even though they were waiting in the full armours for these portals? Ah, and also: that army didn’t do anything. They just came and fought for maybe 4 minutes. And there were just so many things like that!

And if we’re on the topic of armies I present you: ‘My favourite absurd-list in the series: allied armies’.

(As a comparison, in A Song of Ice and Fire by J.R.R Martin, in 7 kingdoms of Westeros, at the peak of war there were 7 forces present, but not all were even engaged in a war.)

First the ones that made sense:

Armies of Terrasen’s Lords (counted as one, not gonna nitpick)

The Khaganate army (also counted as one)

Galan Ashryver’s armada

Whitethorn fraction

Rebel Ironteeth witches

…should Dorian be counted as an ‘army’?

And there were some that did not:

Ansel of Briarcliff’s army

The Silent Assassins

Mycenians

Wild Men of the Fangs

Army of magical elves on wolves

And the ‘I don’t even know’ category:

Crochan witches

Overpowering and overreaching

Section title tells it all. The stakes were too high. I was honestly waiting for Aelin to become Super Saiyan and start to throw planets at Maeve and Erawan. I won’t spoil if this happened.

In my opinion it could be a really great series, if our list of villains ended with Arobynn and King of Adarlan, and the list of Aelin titles with an assassin and a princess. We could have had two main fight plots: one emotional with Arobynn, when Aelin would have to face a damage he had done to her, and overcome it. And the second one, with freeing Terrasen from Adarlan’s rule. That’s it. There was an asshole, power hungry king, who feared magic and wanted to rule the East part of a continent. A lot of plot, but not so much that we stopped to care, or didn’t have time to cover everything. We could really get to know what Terrasen and his people were like and not JUST GET TOLD that it was ‘the greatest place in the world’ every damn 20 pages.

Plus…should Dorian be counted as an ‘army’? It's a REALLY valid question.

Climaxes

IIf I have to write a list of things that disappointed me in this book, this review would be thrice its current size, but one of the worst grievances I have is the complete lack of acknowledging the plotlines that had been started. This book series has overall 4 372 pages (not counting novellas) and 12 main characters (still not gonna address this). All of them had their storylines and arcs but if they weren't tied up in the previous instalments they wouldn’t be in this one. I get it, Maeve and Erawan got beaten (in an extremely unsatisfactory way) but they were only a background in this series' plots.

Aelin Well, Aelin was one of 3 people (+2 paragraf-long insertion from Nesryn and Chaol) who got their own POV’s after the battle (second was technically Rowan, who was ‘Aelin’s POV outside of Aelin’.The third Dorian, who got almost a full two pages). And from this we got that: she got crowned, Aedion got his bond and that Maas have no idea how the city looks after weeks of siege. In her case what angered me the most was ‘Terrasen is my home’ subplot. Only in this tome we read at least 3 times that Aelin will be okay with dying, if only she gets to see Terrasen one last time, or if she get to die on Terrassen soil. But you know what? Maas forgot to write the scene where Aelin actually ‘comes in’.

Mannon Didn't get her own POV after the battle, but here’s what we’ve got: She is going to the Wastes with Croachans and Ironteeth. Whait. What? Yes, that was the ending of this 500+ years of feud. They fought together and they decided to unite their two species, completely forgetting more than half a millenia of slaughter. I can only hope that there were at least some talks behind the scenes… NO! F*** NO! This isn’t how it works!

Rowan, Dorian, Chaol, Yrene, Lysandra, Aedion, Lorcan, Elide, Nesryn, Sartaq Lived happily ever after

Secondary minor and total background characters Survived (I acknowledge that they would be ignored in most books’ epilogues, but this abomination is almost 1000 pages of nothing!!).

Good Scenes

That saying, this book actually had 4 good scenes:

Crochan witches go to war - gathering-forces-to-fight trope, which is my *love-always trope* so I’m not even sure if it was relatively good, or if I’m just a slut for this trope. It was still only a paragraph long though.

[recurring] The children’s tale Aelin repeated to herself to remember who she is.

‘Lorcan Lochan’ - the only marginally funny scene in the whole book

I actually found Darrel making Evangeline his heir charming. Even if circumstances were far-fetched at least.

But the words crime of this book? It was agonisingly, mind-numbingly boring. If the overexplaining and repetitions were to be taken out I highly doubt that there would be 300 pages left.

For these 33 hours of audiobook I suffered through I give it half a star. Because Abraxos exist.

Please see my garishly accurate cover on my instagram! You can also like it there :D

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#book #book review #bookworm #review #signofwolf-book_review #opinion #throne of glass #throne of glass series #throne of glass spoilers #sarah j maas #kingdom of ash #aelin galythinius #mary sunderland #tog #fantasy #fandom

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

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The Guardian’s Oath, Part One

This is the first thing I’ve written in the “spirit of the season”. I've always been a huge Halloween geek, probably because it falls close to my birthday, so when I was little, it kind of felt like all this fun stuff was somehow related to me.

I usually avoid writing for characters who are already popular in wrestling fan fiction because I figure that there’s already so many good things to read and I don’t have anything particularly new to offer, but this idea couldn’t have worked with anyone other than Finn Balor. I’m not claiming that this is incredibly original either because it absolutely is not. Anyone who’s read any classic gothic stories will recognize that this comes close to outright plagiarism in bits. Nevertheless, I started writing it to see where it went and this is what happened. Well, it’s the first part of what happened. This is about half of what I have written thus far and there is more coming.

The setting is 19th century Ireland, about which I know precious little, so please forgive me any egregious errors.

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,706

Content advisory: Nothing other than that it’s a slow burn so some people are going to find this section a little flat (more fiction than fan content here)

It was one of the first warm days of spring when I arrived at Wynn Cottage. I was practically trembling with nervousness, waiting to meet my new employer. Although the education I had received from the church was a good one, the offer of a position as governess for a priest in the hamlet of Bray came very quickly after I was ready to work. Indeed, the offer seemed to have come from nothing, from a chance meeting of a deacon at my church with a parishioner from Bray. I liked to think that it was fate, that the position had come to me at the exact moment I was ready because this was where God intended for me to be. While the arrangements for my transfer to Bray were conducted mostly by the two churches, I had been touched to receive a kind and welcoming letter from my new employer, Reverend Feargal Devitt.

He explained in his letter that he was a widower and that because the tiny protestant population of the county was widespread, his work required him to spend a great deal of time travelling from village to village. He needed a governess who could care for and help to educate his two young children, a boy and a girl, one whose faith was in line with his own.

I alighted from the carriage and took my case with all my meagre belongings from the driver and stepped through the gate into my new life.

As he had promised, Reverend Devitt was waiting for me with his children. There was a slightly older woman, clearly a servant of the house standing with them like an equal member of the family. They made a lovely picture, standing before their quaint cottage under the dappled sunlight that broke through the apple tree just next to it.

"Miss Miles," he greeted me warmly, "welcome to Wynn. I hope your journey was easy."

"Quite easy, sir. It was my first time on a train, so it made for a rather nice adventure."

He beamed and placed his hands on his children's shoulders, gently pushing them a step towards me. "This is my son William and my daughter Sophia. Children, this is your new governess, Mis Miles."

The children were an odd pair. I knew that the boy was eight and the girl nine but they gave the impression of being quite a bit further removed in age. The boy figured his father with his large blue eyes. His sandy hair was lighter than the Reverend's but I could imagine it would darken to the point where their resemblance would be quite striking. He was a little small for his age, although his fresh complexion and proud stature showed all the signs of perfect health.

His sister, by contrast, was tall, almost to my shoulder, and dark. Her hair and eyes were the colour of coffee and her skin a warmer, like the shell of a walnut. As she tilted her heart-shaped face in my direction, I was struck by the keen intelligence in her eyes, mixed with a hint of apprehension. I could not fault her for that and I only hoped that I could win her over.

"This is Kate, our cook. She's been with us since before the children were born. Any questions you have about the house or the town, she'll be able to answer."

The woman gave me a smile, her round, pink cheeks pressing her eyes nearly shut. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Susan, one of the girls from the village, comes by to help with the cleaning and upkeep and Mr. Jones is the gardener but they don't live with us. You'll meet them later."

It was only then that my eyes came to rest on Reverend Devitt and truly take in his appearance and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I did.

His eyes were bluer and clearer than any sky I had ever seen, the highlight of his handsome face with its squared jaw and neat beard, shaved in such a way that his full lips were still visible. He flashed me another smile and I felt my heart quicken in response. I had never met any man, or any person, who inspired such a reaction in me and, as rash an idea as it was, I believe that I fell in love with him at that moment.

"Please," he said softly, "come in."

I picked up my case and Kate immediately moved to help me."

"Your rooms are in the garrett," he explained with a hint of embarrassment. "It's not too large and the ceiling is a little low but it's warm and dry and there is a window that gives a nice light. On clear days, you can even see the ocean."

"I am certain it's more than enough for me, sir. I expect I shall be spending most of the day with the children anyway. And I should very much like to see the ocean. I've only ever had it described to me."

The Reverend looked shocked. "You've never seen the ocean? At all?"

"Never in my life sir." I caught a look that passed between the children and looked down, ashamed. My situation had never permitted me to travel any distance from the inland village where I was born. It was not until I uttered those words, however, that I realized what an ignorant peasant I must seem as a result.

If Reverend Devitt saw the look on his children's faces, he gave no sign of it. He only gave me another of his thrilling smiles and said, "Well it's settled then. We shall go for a walk while Kate prepares dinner."

I felt my cheeks color at his words. This hospitality was far beyond anything I had dared hope for and I wondered if he would have been so congenial with anyone, or if it was possible that it was something he did just for me.

Kate and I carried my trunk to my rooms and while the light was strangely mournful in the late afternoon, the accommodations were better than I had been led to expect for a woman in my position.

"You don't want to see the view?" Kate asked, noticing that I avoided looking towards the window.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise," I answered shyly.

She gave me a smile that was every bit as warm, although not as beautiful, as her master's.

"I hope it's not too forward for me to say, but I believe you'll fit in well here."

I was a little surprised that the shore was so close and so easily accessible. I had always imagined the coast to be a series of tagged cliffs towering above the wild water but here the land gently rolled down to meet the water, a soft stretch of sand the bridge between them.

Reverend Devitt took my hand to help me down the last few steps to the beach and I had to turn my face away so that he could not see the effect it had on me. He kept my hand in his until he was sure my feet were steady on the unfamiliar surface.

The children walked ahead of us. William rushed off and started gathering stones and shells.

"He collects them," the Reverend informed me. "For what purpose I'm not sure but he's done it for years."

Sophia strolled on her own. She ventured closer to the water, which struck me as a very good thing to do. Many of the stories I'd heard of the ocean involved people being swept away into it. From time to time, her brother would call her over but each time she returned to the water's edge, as if it were only there that she was happy.

"I'm too indulgent with them," Reverend Devitt sighed, noticing how my eyes followed Sophia with concern. "I try to keep discipline but I find it hard. They lost their mother young and their father is off helping the lord's flock rather than his own."

"Well I hope I can set your mind at ease on that score, at least a little," I offered.

He turned to face me, his smile a little softer and sadder. With the light behind him, it was like he had a golden halo. I had been delivered to the home of this angel of a man and once again, my heart rushed at the feeling I already had for him.

I was so much in his thrall that I was startled when both the children rushed up, to their father and to me.

"Look what I've found!" William cried excitedly. He extended his hand to reveal a live crab, its legs grasping at the air while the boy dangled it by his shell.

"It's a big one," Sophia added, a mischievous little grin spreading across her face.

"Put your hand out, Miss Miles," William goaded. "He can hold him. He won't hurt you."

"William, hush," his father tutted. "Don't ever speak to her like that again."

Both children had their gleaming eyes fixed on me, as if their father were no longer there, waiting to see what I did next.

I disliked the crab, finding it like an armored spider, and I shivered at the movement of its spindly legs, but something in me hated the idea that I might fail an early test from my charges, strange though it might be.

"No," I quavered, holding my palm out flat. "He can put it in my hand. I don't mind."

Not one of our group could have believed that I didn't mind. My hand shook almost violently as I offered it. Nevertheless, I nodded to William to proceed. I hated the sensation of the legs of my hand, too light for the size of the creature. And despite William's assurance, I felt certain that it would happily snap one of my fingers with its grotesque claws.

What should we do with it, Miss Miles?" William cajoled me. He and his sister leaned in closer, their eyes bearing in on me with even greater intensity.

"You take it back and put it back exactly where you found it," his father ordered without waiting for me to reply. "Now."

The two of them scampered off and I saw William toss the crab back, none too gently, into the rocks where he had found it. From there, they walked together, Sophia taking his hand in hers and pulling him close as they spoke to each other with animated expressions. I knew instinctively that they were discussing me.

"So what do you think of the ocean?" Reverend Devitt asked after a long pause.

"It's very beautiful."

I paused and took a deep breath, my nostrils filling with the briny scent. At that very moment, looking out on its endless expanse, I wasn't sure if I liked the sea or not.

"I feel like it's all around me, even here on land. The smell and the sound and the mist in the air.."

He looked at me with a tenderness I had never known. "You get used to it," he promised.

We headed back to the house as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of flame and rose and indigo. He took my arm and rested his hand on my back as he helped be back up the path away from the beach and I felt the echoes of his touch as we took our dinner together, as I watched him read from the bible and a book of fables to his children, and even after I retired for the evening.

I had hoped that the air I'd taken in on our walk would make me fall asleep quickly but it was not to be. I felt I could not get comfortable, either hot or cold and the sounds of the house were different than I was used to. The thing that made me the most anxious, however, was that I could hear the waves rolling in the distance. It left me unsettled, as foolish as I knew that to be.

The Reverend stayed at home most of the next day before he headed out to visit the adherents of the faith where they needed him. I learned that he was normally gone from Monday afternoon until Saturday night and I had to hide my disappointment that I would see so very little of him.

I reminded myself that I was a servant in his house and my role was to tend to and educate the children, not to pine after him. Although it was late for lessons by the time their father had gone, I did have both the children practice on the small piano in the drawing room before dinner. They did so without any resistance and paid respectful attention when I corrected their mistakes.

After we had taken dinner, I was about to send them to bed when I was startled by the sound of something creaking and banging loudly from outside. My nerves were already on edge as a storm and blown in as darkness fell, the coastal wind being much wilder than I was used to, so I gave a startled cry at the sound.

Kate rushed in and her face softened upon seeing me standing, hand on my chest, my gray eyes wide with fright.

"I'm sorry, miss, it's just the back gate's come loose again. The Lock's needed replacing for a while now but Mr. Jones keeps forgetting to do it."

"We'll get it," Sophia cried, grabbing her brother's hand and rushing past the two of us.

By the time I'd recovered my wits, I heard the back door close. I don't know what I thought might befall the children but I tore after them, practically falling on the wet grass as I rushed to the gate.

Sophia stared at me as if I were a crazy woman and William laughed a little.

"What on Earth are you doing?" I panted. "You mustn't run off like that, especially after dark."

I wiped away the rain that slashed at my cheek and motioned for both of them to get inside. There was a wooded area behind the gate and with the wind up and the leaves blowing, I felt myself unnerved by the shifting shadows within.

"Don't be silly," Sophia reassured me with excessive sweetness. "It's just the gate in our own yard. Besides, you don't know the trick to it. If you don't know the trick, it'll just blow open again."

"And then you'll have to wake us to do it for you," William chimed in.

Each of them took one of my hands and steered me back towards the house, as if they were the adults and I the child. It wasn't until we were back inside and I had sent them to get ready for bed that it occurred to me that I should have asked them to show me the trick.

I went upstairs with the Bible in hand to read to the children on my own for the first time. I had thought of a passage or two that I believed would be instructive at their age but I still felt nervous.

It was a great relief when they sat in their beds, poised and quiet, listening attentively.

"Do you have any questions?" I queried, closing the book on my lap.

They exchanged a glance and Sophia spoke for both of them.

"No ma'am."

"I know your father read you stories from another book. Would you like me to do that?"

"We've heard all those stories before," Sophia sighed.

"When Kate or Susan put us to bed, they tell us fairy stories," William added excitedly.

"Oh, is there a book of those you'd like me to read from? I don't mind."

"Oh they don't read," Sophia laughed. "They just tell us the stories they know."

"They tell us about the creatures here."

I bit my lip. "I'm afraid I don't know any fairy stories from this area."

"What monsters are there where you come from?" William asked a little too sharply.

"Well I'm not going to tell you stories about monsters when you're going to bed or you won't sleep."

Sophia laughed as if I'd said something foolish. "Oh we're not afraid."

"Do you have Bog Maeve where you come from?" William pressed, his excitement only growing. "She's the old lady who lives under the bogs and pulls travelers under."

I felt like I had somehow lost control of the conversation and yet I found myself wanting to impress the children, hoping to overcome the impression left by my cowardice in the face of the storm.

"I believe we have stories of something like that, but the name is different."

"What about ghosts? We have the White Man. He walks around the edge of the graveyard and leans against the church wall, crying for his wife."

"You mustn't carry on like that, William," I chided.

"Tell us about a spirit from where you grew up."

"Well there are woods all around, so we mostly have stories about wood elves and sprites that inhabit the trees. But those are just folk tales." I gave a proud little smile to show them I was unaffected by such things.

"You mean woods like the ones behind the back gate here?" Sophia asked coyly. William giggled.

"I suppose they're a little like them." I felt increasingly desperate, like I was being drawn into some sort of trap.

"Do you have Finn Bálor where you come from?" William asked.

"I don't think so. Or at least I don't know that name. What is he supposed to do?"

The two of them exchanged a quick look and began reciting in unison:

Finn Bálor comes in the dark of night

With his seal black skin and his eyes of white

He comes for the children and takes their breath

Or spirits them off to certain death;

But even worse for the maiden fair

Who he drags away to his watery lair

And though her screams are still heard through the wind and rain

His maiden will never be seen again.

Sophia furrowed her brow. "They wouldn't have Bálor where she comes from."

"Why not?" William responded, as if he were reciting the script to a play.

"It says Bálor's lair is watery. So he must live near the ocean."

William made a soft noise as if he was disappointed.

"That really isn't a story for good Christian children," I stammered, a little shocked at the ugliness of their rhyme.

"Everyone around here knows that story," Sophia answered.

"Well, I think it's time to stop the stories for tonight and for you to get some sleep."

"Just a little longer," William pleaded.

We won't sleep for the storm," Sophia cooed.

I didn't want to think I'll of a child but I felt like she was mocking me over my own nervousness about the storm.

"You don't have to tell us any more stories like that," she continued. "You could just tell us about yourself."

A little hesitantly, I settled back in my seat. "Very well. What would you like to know?"

"How did you end up working as a governess?" Sophia prompted.

"This is actually my first position. I had just finished my education through the church in Killfoyle and they found this post for me."

"Why did your parents not do that?" William asks, his eyes so innocent I could scarcely believe this was the same boy who had recited that ghastly rhyme just minutes before.

I lowered my head, wondering how much of my story I should tell. "My parents have been dead for some time."

Sophia slid to the end of her bed and rested her hand on mine. "You poor thing."

The maturity in her voice was a little unnerving, but I nonetheless gave her a little smile before motioning for her to lie back down.

"How did they die?"

"William!" His sister snapped. "Don't you ask such things!"

"But I was lucky and my church took me in and saw that I was educated. They made sure I had prospects for a good life."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" the girl asked gently.

"No." I paused, feeling uncomfortably like I was lying. "I had a younger brother but he died when he was small."

"Did he die with your parents?"

"William stop it right now!" Sophia's dark eyes were furious. "I'm sorry," she said to me, composing herself, "he's a baby and he doesn't know any better."

"I'm not a baby!"

"You hush this instant! You're upsetting her! How do you expect her to like us if you act like that?"

"Oh but of course I like you!" I insisted. "You're lovely children. He's just speaking rashly because he's tired."

Sophia's expression was skeptical. "He had no business speaking to you that way."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry. But now I really think you must sleep."

I stood up, wondering if I should give them a kiss but deciding against it.

"Miss Miles?" Sophia said primly.

"Yes?"

"I hope that you will be much happier now that you're here."

"Thank you, Sophia. That's very kind of you to say."

I knew that the children hadn’t meant to hurt me, but my heart felt heavy as I retired to my room for the night. Thinking of my family was always harrowing for me. It reminded me how narrowly I had escaped a miserable fate. Although my heart soared being here, living under the roof of such a beautiful man and his precocious children, I knew there would always be a part of me that lived in fear that everything good could be taken away from me as it had been before.

I spent another fitful night, unable to clear my head enough to sleep, my mind a turmoil of memories and uneasy thoughts of the sinister Balor and the chilling rhyme the children had shared, set to the sound of the crashing waves in the distance.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #nxt fanfiction #nxt imagine #finn balor imagine #finn balor fanfic #wayward wrestle writing

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daisies--roses · 4 years

Text

MYG|Finally again (M)

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing

Word count: 2,8k

Plot: You're seeing your Idol boyfriend Yoongi again after a long time.

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago (2018) for my (now) girlfriends 20ths birthday, I really forgot about this :3

It was the time of the year. You had written your exams a few weeks ago and now you were free for 1 and a half months.

You packed your things and were standing in the Check-in line in the airport. Your luggage in one hand and your passport in the other.

In your ears the voice of your genius boyfriend who was singing and rapping in a equally beautiful voice.

With every single step you took your heart hammered louder in your chest.

The last time you saw him was like a faded memory. It was on his last holiday months ago. He was in your apartment for a week and left afterwards but you weren't satisfied with that visit. You had work to do for your classes and your job. You went out a few times but you wanted more of him than you got.

You missed him incredibly much. You really wanted to feel his arms around you and his head on your shoulder while you both laid on his bed. You wanted to cuddle with him and kiss his little cute nose afterwards he would scrunch it and you would laugh at his reaction.

But not just your chest was getting hotter your core was aching for him. You loved him for who he was but god he could do so many things to bring you the euphoric feeling no one could ever got close to. How his hands went between your thighs or hold your hips in their place because he wants to taste you firstly. Or the time he couldn't take his hands off of you and fingered you right there under the table while you were eating dinner with your friends.

You shuddered because of these memories and your core got wetter every time you remembered another time you made love to each other.

You were the next in line and smiled instantly when the woman started to ask you your name and your passport.

"Hi I'm Y/N, flying to Moskau and than Seoul."

She smiled friendly "Please lay your luggage on the scale." after checking the score on the scale she gave you your things back and wished you a save flight.

You would spend more than half a day traveling to see the love of your life. You wished that it would take a small amount of time but you lived in the different side of the world.

But this would end next year when you graduate. You didn't plan anything yet but you knew that you want to live with him till the end of your time. You need him next to you. Thats why you don't want to waste any second without him after your graduation.

While listening to his new music you went into the plane. Two flights were awaiting you but you were content because you would see him again.

In the other side of the world your boyfriend was sleeping after a long night of getting some music done before you were coming. He wanted to end everything because he wanted to spend every second with you. He planed your days out.

You were there for 4 weeks and he would work at home in the mornings and than spend the rest of the day with you, his beautiful girlfriend that he loved and cared for.

He woke up after a long time and wrote you a little message before he started to get his apartment ready for you. He knew how much you loved a specific blanket on the couch and how much you hated to have any kind of insects in the apartment. Taking many things under consideration he took his time to get a perfect atmosphere for you and him.

You couldn't wish a better boyfriend than him and you appreciate him everyday in your life.

You were landing in Moskau in a few minutes. You would spend a couple of hours in the airport and than take the other plane to Seoul where he would pick you up.

You were smiling because you would see him again in like 11 hours again. You would feel his warmth and hear his laugh again. You missed his eyes on you and his breath on your skin.

You weren't the only one who missed every single strand of your hair or your little mole under your eye. He missed every little thing and he couldn't wait to take you in his arms.

Finally you were sitting on your last flight. It would take you another 8 hours to reach Seoul but you were going to be there faster because you were to exited to really feel this 8 hours of flight.

Tha landing took another few minutes. You were packing fastly and couldn't contain any more feelings of excitement. You would see him in a few minutes.

Yoongi wasn't any different. He waited on the doors with a black basecap and black clothes. He wore the parfum you liked and the bracelet you gave him on your last anniversary. He smiled silently thinking about you coming through this doors to be in his arms.

Taking the last peace of your luggage you walked fastly through the airport. You saw the doors and breathed in and out a few times before going out. The light was brighter than you were comfortable with but your eyes adjusted quickly.

You got going and looked through the crowd of waiting people. Your eyes searched for the pale, handsome male dressed in black. He send you a picture of his outfit so you would find him quicker.

Going out of the gates you stayed still for a couple of seconds till your eyes landed on this handsome man who was your longtime boyfriend. Taking big steps to make it faster to him and trying not to humiliate yourself in front of the other people because you wouldn't be a klutz if you didn't stumble.

You got to him in a record time and let go of your luggage to jump into his open arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso and your head on the crook of his neck.

"God, I missed you so much Baby." he took your scent in and held you tightly in his arms.

"I missed you too Yoongi. So freaking much." you smiled when his eyes meet yours. His grin spreading with every other second you spend in his arms.

"I wanna kiss you right now baby, but I know that I won't stop if I start so lets get going."

You giggled after his statement and jumped down. He took your luggage and you took his hand in yours.

Sitting in the car you let go of his hand because he needed to drive but Yoongi didn't want to lose contact thats why he laid his hand on your thigh. "You hungry baby?"

"Not really, we got something on the plane so I'm fine. But I need a bed and my boyfriend to cuddle in it if you have that I'll be happy."

Yoongi laughed at your wish "I have what you want and more baby." he tightened his grip on your thighs a bit and loosened it afterwards.

With his little gesture you felt how your woman part got tighter and you wished that he planned to make love to you at his apartment.

His hand stayed the whole ride on your thighs skimming it up and down. Getting closer to your core and in the next second getting closer to you knee. Ever time he got closer on your wetness you held your breath and wished for more but he just grinned and drove his car.

Parking in his garage you got out of the car immediately and opened the back. Taking out your luggage you smiled tightly at him. "Take my keys and get the door baby. I'll take it from here."

Nodding you took his keys and went to his door. The building was high on security and no one couldn't enter without the knowledge of the owners. You went on the elevator together and got off on thr 13th floor. It was just his apartment on this floor that's why no one could enter it without a card.

Opening the door to his apartment you stepped in slowly. You took of your shoes and started to light up the room till you heard your luggage falling over because yoir boyfriend just let it go. You turned around and stared at him. "What's wrong?"

He took little steps towards you while he was grinning. "I hope you got enough sleep on the plane Baby."

"I slept for a few hours but why would you-" you couldn't finish your sentence because in the next second you were trapped against a wall and your boyfriend. His eyes hindering you to say anything else.

"You'll need that energy Baby. You're gonna need all of it." he kissed you cheeks and smiled innocently "I promise that."

Looking straight into his eyes you didn't see his hands finding the hem of your Hoodie. You felt him pull the ends of it. He neared your ears and nibbled on them. "My apartment is warm enough Baby. Let's take this off."

Nodding you held your arms up and he took your hoodie off. You were wearing a black under it which showed a but of cleavage. Your hoodie went flying through the room

He licked his lips and got to work. His lips pressing kisses on your neck and going down on your cleavage. Staying above your top line and making you frustrated because he stops right where you want him to be.

His hands are not staying still either. Touching your sides and getting down on your thighs. Grasping them tightly and massaging them in a way you could never imagine felt that good.

You moaned euphoric and felt his smirk on your skin. "You like me handling you rougher than in our previous activities?"

You nodded with closed eyes and an open mouth. "Don't nod baby. Tell me what you want. How should I handle you baby?"

Your voice was hoarse because of the whole thing but you could gave a little sound out. "Rougher please."

"The princess gets what she wants." with this statement he took your thighs in his hands "Jump up princess."

Yoi jumped on him and wrapped your legs up his torso and your arms around his neck. "Can you make me get a little bit hotter baby? You can do anything you want till we get to my bedroom."

"Yes." you started to kiss jawline and took your lips slowly and painfully down to his earlobes. Nibbling on them you started to rub your body up and down on his body. Your hands gettinf tangled in his hair while you kissed his neck down to his collarbone.

His jeans got tighter with every move you made. He contained a groan after you pressed your core a few times on his dick under his jeans. Your hand pulling on his hair and the other going down his clothed chest.

He walked slower as you started to try and open his belt with one hand. Getting frustrated with every other second you couldn't do it he smirked and let you be for a few minutes till he opened his door and laid you on his bed.

Looking straight in your eyes he opened is belt and his jeans. His sweater foloowed afterwards and he was standing with just his boxers in front of you. "Get up baby and take off your clothes while I'm watching."

Obeying what he wanted you started to strip while he sat down with oben legs on the bed. His hawk eyes watching every move you make. Gulping down a few times when you took you little time taking things off. Licking his lips with every leaving clothes. "Get your bra off too baby. I want to see your beautiful breasts."

You did as he told and went to his front. He looked you up and down before he took your arm and laid you on the bed. "You" he kissed your neck "are" he went down to your collarbone "perfect" taking your nipple in his mouth he sucked on it and massaged with his hand the other one.

You moaned loudly when he bit your nipple and gave the same amount of love to the other one. He than went down with his free hand to your inner thighs. Groping hardly and leaving a few hand marks. You whimpered after that and he kissed one last time both breasts. He looked at you and grinned. "I'm gonna make you a whimpering mess after a few minutes baby, just wait."

You thought that your core was wet enough after the playing on the wall but it was nothing after he started taking his sweet little time exploring it with his fingers.

One hand kneeled your butt and the other rubbed your core over your slip. He rubbed it in circles and got faster and slower with a few seconds difference. You moaned and whimpered. Your body getting closer to the orgasm with every circle and every kneeling.

You getting louder and louder even if he didn't get started on the rhing he had planed yet. "You're gonna cum for me baby? You gonna make me happy and coum for my just by rubbing your clit? Make me happy princess. Cum for me."

You moaned one last time and your body shuddering and shrinking under his skillful hands. Breathing heavily you looked at him. With an open mouth you licked your lips." Are you a good girl baby? Do you deserve more of this?"

"Yes."

"Than let me give you more baby. Let me make sure you remember this night even when I'm not next to you anymore. Remember this and touch yourself when I'm gone baby."

You nodded and Yoongi got up on your eye level. "You wanna make me remember too baby?"

"Yes, I want you to remember me and get off to me."

He groaned and started to kiss your lips aggressively. His hands roaming on your sides and grabbing your butt or your breast to make you moan and get his tongue in you. Fighting for dominance with your tongues which you give to him easily. Suckling on your upper lip and biting your under lip.

He groans as you can't take it anymore and your hands makes contact with his crotch. You rub your hand through his boxers and get him to moan between your kisses. He loves how you try to take control of the situation. But he knows that you'll never have it.

You take your hand in his boxers and rub his tip with your thump. Licking your lips and his in the process. He let's you take control and gets on his back. "Do whatever you want baby. I'm yours."

Grinning you get down and took off his boxers. His dick springing out for you to get it in your mouth. Your tongue swirling around the tip for a few rounds. Your getting it down your throat till you chocke a little bit.

Yoongi holding your hair in his hands and controlling the tempo of your blowjob. He groans as he speeds up with his hands. Gagging a few times because he gets too deep into your throat.

Afterwards he let's go of your hair and gives you the control again but you got other plan. You get him rilled up till he gets as close as he can to his orgasm. But you stop than. You earn a groan and cussing. "What the hell baby. Why the fuck would you stop?"

You got up on his level and he looks disapproving "Get down there and finish what you started."

You shake your head and smirk. "Be patient baby. I know what I'm doing."

After your statement he looks amused and gives you a heads up.

Smirking you take your slip off and take a condom of his drawer. You take it on his dick and open up your clit with one of your fingers. Getting in and out beforehand with one finger and than two fingers.

Yoongi watching you with lust full eyes. Fingering and stretching your clit for his enormous dick. He watches you and his dick gets harder every second.

You get your fingers out with a moan and position yourself on him. You get down slowly and wait a few seconds till you're comfortable enough to ride him the way he wants.

Fast and hard. Thats what he wants. Thats what you want and thats what you both get.

His dick goes in and out of your clit. You're listening to skin getting on skin. His loud breathing and groans. Your moaning and whimpering everytime you feel his tip deeply in your vagina.

Your neighbors hearing both of you moaning, whimpering, groaning and screaming your names till there comes nothing anymore.

Till you only hear yours and his steady breathing between little snors when you fall in a deep sleep.

#bts fanfiction #bangtan #bts au #yoongi scenarios #bangtan yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi au #Smut #Bts smut #Idol!yoongi #Yoongi smut

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wearepaladin · 5 years

Note

(This might be the wrong blog to ask, but...) What would happen if a demon drew a balance card (alignment swap) from a deck of many things?

Well. Let’s take a look. Inspired by the question of the Cult of the Redeemer Queen and their patron, the Demon Lord Nocticula that I received earlier.

In another place, Honos Kel, a Paladin and Emissary of several greater gods of the Light, might be tempted to explore this archipelago. He’d always been fond of islands and the cultures they grew. But the Midnight Islands were not formed of time and the birth of new land over stretches of blue water. The Ocean surrounding them was black and viscous, the islands rising from those depths spurred into being thanks to the perverse pride of the ruler of this place. Only the light of an alien moon framed this place, saved perhaps for strange strands in the sky, looking more like blood draining from the darkness than any star.

Kel doubted even a single ounce of starlight could ever breach that darkness naturally. The Abyss by its nature, twisted all that crossed it unaware. Screams intermixed with the laughter of the damned as he made his way forward.

Each island was born of murder, each piece of the archipelago framed on a conquest of the mistress of this place, honoring their assassination and murder of many victims across the worlds. Each island reflected as much, illustrating both the enraptured demise of the victim and the sensuous hunger of the killer in turn. With each island he walked across, his private doubt about this mission succeeding dropped. The demons who dared force his hand as he made his way to the heart of this place sensed not an ounce of this doubt, flinching away from the righteous aura that brought the rare presence of true light in this place.

Finally, gates of a great citadel barred him entry, prompting the paladin to ring a bell. He did not wait long before being surrounded, as all variety of demon appeared, chiefly among them all manner of concubi, incubi, and succubi. He passively noted multiple enchantments bounce off his awareness, the demons natural talent to influence and dominate the mind of would be victims finding no purchase. Even so, it took effort to find the gaze of the lead concubi, their androgynous beauty likely to divert any mortal eye.

“I come representing the Cult of the Redeemer Queen. I have a gift for their mistress, who rules this place.”

An undercurrent of beautiful if mocking laughter surrounded him. The concubi’s canines glinted as they flashed a carnivorous grin. The door’s opened, and the paladin entered the ultimate domain of Nocticula, the Lady of Shadows.

Naturally, for a place devoted to darkness, much of what could be seen was obscured, granting the paladin only the briefest glances as was guided further into the heart of this place. Some of what he saw made his heart race with want, while others chilled his blood. For all the shadows around him, it wasn’t hard to imagine the dreams and nightmares that ruled this place reaching out and pulling souls close with the twisted desire this place represented. But, like any shadow, these wants were fleeting in the face of light. And if he could teach the one who ruled this place that lesson, then perhaps there was hope to be found even here.

Finally, he was led to what could only be the profana sanctorum, the unholy heart of this abyssal plane. It rose towards the false moon like a grasping set of talons, sensuous sculptures of intertwining acts of lust, murder, each escalating to the point where he could no longer tell where the division lay. But he knew when the true master of this place revealed herself, as the center sculpture became alive.

He’d felt her presence long before he’d met her gaze, for the first of all succubi was only like her kindred like an ant’s shadow was like the darkness between the stars. To be called a demon lord is no mere title, but evidence of a dark puissance that only a true god of darkness and evil could be above. And here, in the heart of her domain, the difference between goddess and demon lord was very thin indeed.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

Nocticua, Lady of Shadows, towered over the Paladin, even seated on her throne. The form she took currently was one he recognized from rumored description and obscure text, a shapely woman with near translucent skin that suffered no hint of any exposure to sunlight, her thick raven hair designed into a crown of horns that framed a face that somehow matched every notion of beauty and desire he’d ever known, her demonic nature unveiled by her height, dark talons, hooves clad in red iron, great wings clad in unholy runes, and three barbed tails. If she wore clothing, it seemed to fit her like shadow, less to obscure and more to entice.

She grinned with a perfect smile, pale white eyes looking the paladin up and down hungrily, and it took all his effort to meet that gaze without wandering.

Where the lesser demons he’d encountered thus far found their enchantments utterly ineffective against his divine immunity to such charms, he could feel Nocticula’s power and allure to the point that where an infinite army of her children would find no purchase, she could will all his protections away with a practice of will. He could even feel her considering it, shivering as the sensation of warm talons brushed across his neck, riding that thin line between pleasure and harm with expert ease.

“A paladin of not one but six gods marches into my realm uninvited, leading no army or crusade, declaring that he speaks for one my cults, and further, that he bares a gift for me. Truly, I wish I could say I orchestrated such a thing. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time a holy man graced my islands.”

She snapped a finger, and shadows parted as six spectral forms were unveiled. Paladin Kell studied each with a grimace, recognizing the divine icons of his six patrons rotting against the spectral bodies of what he recognized as the souls of fallen paladins. Their souls were being corroded into demonic forms of some kind, the fate of many a mortal soul that found their way to the abyssal plane.

With a smile, Nocticula shooed the fragmented souls away, looking at Honos Kel as though deciding whether an animal was worth more as food or as a pet.

“So you have my curiosity, Paladin. Or shall I call you Kel? Your original culture puts the family name first, doesn’t it?”

He blinked, feeling small pieces of his memory pulled to the surface of his mind, and even more stirring. With a will, he forced the tendrils of her influence our of his mind. He met her gaze squarely, recognizing what she was doing. The demon was exercising that she was capable of not only chilling levels of power, but great subtly as well. He hadn’t even known she was probing his mind until she’d said something.

Her expression remained unchanged during that brief practice of influence, and he had to concede that if it came to a fight, she would have the upper hand. His best hope lay in the pouch he’d brought alongside him.

“Kel is fine. I bring a gift on behalf of your worshipers on the world of Golarion.”

He said, working to keep his tone even. A raven brow rose on Nocticula’s head.

“Why you and not one of my acolytes? I feel the marks of Milani, Iomedae, Sarenrae, and the Triad of Celestia upon you. Why would you be their emissary?”

She asked, her expression finally shifting from something other than hungry amusement to small curiosity.

“Because I alone could find and deliver these.”

Kell reached into the pouch and pulled out two ivory decks, and within each a single card lay. Magic of the greatest arcane might thrummed in each, and even Nocticula blinked at their appearance, her expression wary with recognition.

“Each of these decks contain one card of the whole set. The Balance card. The Cult of the Redeemer queen wishes to help you leave your demonic nature behind as their doctrine, written by you, claims you desire.”

He watched her carefully as he explained. It had been a long quest to achieve two decks that only had these cards remaining in them, but the boon the cult had asked of him required nothing less.

As for Nocticula, the revelation of the nature of the cards had made her expression close, and she leaned back into her obsidian throne. “...I see. That same doctrine says that I must become a god to thus be unburdened. They would defy my will to enforce the shackles of benevolence and order upon me, before I even claim my divinity.”

Her voice, once hot with amusement and want, was no cold with the true shape of hate. The darkness around her grew jagged, and her face now terrifying in its perfection.

“Why should I not have their souls rendered into dust for such an affront towards their chosen god?”

Ice and shadow was pooling in the air, and Kel knew this would be the deciding moment. He pointed at once of the feminine scupltures that decorated the sanctum.

“Because you love her.”

For a moment, all was still, and the “sculpture” remained still, before flame ignited around it. He’d felt the presence of her demonic nature even alongside the greater presence of Nocticula, and was unsurprised to see the nascent demon lord Shamira, another ascended succubi. But where Nocticula was darkness, Shamira was fire, clad in great burning wings over vision of beauty that rivaled even the Lady of Shadows.

“Perceptive insect.”

Shamira condescended to Kel, though her luminous emerald eyes were locked on Nocticula. Kel likewise kept matching his gaze with the greater demon lord.

“Your love of Shamira, the one demon lord with your closest counsel, is known to the cult. If there was one thing to prompt you to change your very nature, it might be your love for and her love in turn for you. Otherwise, the pair of you would forever be trapped, your love corroded in twisted games of ambition. You could love her without fear of betrayal, or of your own fear turned into harming her first. You could both be free of that self destructive malevolence. If you each take a card.”

He held both decks out, a single card in each, waiting to be pulled. To his eyes, both Shamira and Nocticula began to look truly human, as they looked upon each other and the cards, possibilities roaring in their minds at the notion of choosing their love for each other over the ever present demonic hunger and cruelty that was bred into their bones.

It could have been moments. It could have been a thousand years. Kel wasn’t sure, enraptured as he was witnessing the silent communication between the two immortals. He’d seen the power of both as he’d walked in, but only now did he see vulnerability. Finally, each approached him, their movements mirrored as they watched each other, torn half way between the expectation of betrayal and the hope that their love could surpass their demonic blood.

Love is not the solution to every challenge. But it can be the motivator to become more than we are for what he hold dearest in our hearts.

Two pairs of clawed hands pulled the Balance Card. The false moon in the sky exploded moments after, as Dawn finally arrived on the Midnight Islands.

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

In the years to come, the Cult of Redeemer Queen would become known as the the Temple of the Burning Shadow. Its two patrons, fire and shadow intertwined, called to those who sought warm in the dark, and the promise that love could reach anywhere, heal and guide the most twisted of hearts.

As for the Paladin Honos Kel, his debt fulfilled, he continued on his way. But that’s another story.

#finished #asks #paladin #nocticula #shamira #deck of many things #balance card

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rike-with-love · 5 years

Text

A reckless idiot

Summary: Takes place after the final battle (hopefully the real final battle). Kagura has something to say to Sougo, and that is to tell him how stupid he truly is. Take in consideration that I haven't read the latest manga chapters, I prefer anime. So if something written here has already happened (I don't think so) or etc. My apologies. This is my take on the canon(ishishish) road (obviously smushy as fuck, I can't help it and I tend to amp up the drama) before Sorachi himself shows us the real deal. So, mild spoilers for the anime watchers as I've seen couple pictures from the un-animated content.

Pairings: Okikagu

Rating: T for violence, angst(ish), fluff, bad language

Disclaimer: I don't own Gintama or its characters. Sorachi Hideaki does. I only own this story.

Author’s notes: I have a link to my fanfiction masterlist on my profile. Please check it out for more chapters and fics!

A reckless idiot

Gintoki, Shinpachi and Kagura were standing at the all too familiar gates. Once those wooden doors protected the great police force of Edo, the Shinsengumi. After Shinsengumi's departure, the abandoned building was left untouched. Heavy wooden bars held the gate tightly shut and none dared to trespass.

Kagura remembered the seal on the door. She hadn't told a soul, but there were times she visited those gates. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she was looking for something. Someone. Maybe Kagura just accidentally walked past it during her walks. Who the hell knew.

After the first big battle, many of Edo's buildings took a lot of damage and the old Shinsengumi compound was one of them. Shinpachi promised to Kondo that the he would do everything he possibly could to fix the building as fast as possible. The earth's great police-force had made their glorious return after all.

To Shinapchi's and many others surprise, the Shinsengumi disbanded and vanished right after the war. Sure Shinpachi didn't know the true nature of their actions, but it seemed like a strange decision at the time. Kondo was the only one staying behind, managing his own new course of life.

Despite everything the Shinsengumi compound was restored and left untouched, ready for the brave samurais if they would return home. Two years after the war...well, let's just say a shit ton of things happened at the same time. Familiar faces came back, old friends and foes alike.

*insert Sorachi's vision of the final fight (I can't even imagine it, so I'm going to leave it like this)

The fight took a toll on people involving it, but luckily most of our beloved friends made it through. And now, back to the Yorozuya trio standing on the gates of the Shinsengumi compound. Gintoki hissed suddenly, breaking the momentary silence between them. He was bandaged pretty much from head to toe, walking with crutches, limping his right foot and sporting pair fo dead-fish eyes.

”Be careful with your foot Gin-san,” Shinpachi said.

”Yare, yare Shinpachi-kun, it's not that bad. I barely even feel any painnNGAAAH!” Gintoki grunted after Kagura stopped his nonsense with softly kicking his injured leg.

”Kagura-chan! What are you doing?” Shinpachi cried in his straight man habit.

”Oi brat! What was that for? Do you want Gin-chan to drop dead?”

Kagura glanced at the two men glaring at her and sighed a little. ”I just wanted to remind you to be more careful Gin-chan,” she said, surprisingly seriously.

”And how is kicking my leg proving your point?” Gintoki asked and Shinpachi was nodding strongly next to him.

”He's right Kagura-chan, you don't-”

Kagura turned on her feet to face the two samurais fully and her expression was enough to make Shinpachi choke on his words. ”I just HATE when people do something stupid and reckless, yes...just like that stupid...” Kagura paused as her voice lowered into a whisper and she looked down to her feet.

Shinpachi wasn't quite sure what to say to Kagura, but luckily Gintoki seemed to read her like a book. ”Just like that stupid...who?” Gintoki asked with a softer voice.

Kagura looked at her foster-father straight into his maroon orbs. His eyes seemed to ask a different question and she felt her cheeks getting a little warmer. ”W-what do you mean by who? I meant you, yes,” she said and frowned.

”Ah, of course you did,” Gintoki said and blinked his eyes slowly to Kagura as he was trying to communicate by morse-code.

Kagura huffed and tightened her grip on her umbrella.

”Alright then you two, are we ready to pay them a visit?” Gintoki asked and glanced at both of his 'underlings'.

”Let's do it,” Shinpachi cheered.

A smiled sneaked up on Kagura's lips. ”Yeah,” she said equally exited as Shinpachi. Then the three members of Yorozuya stepped closer to the gates. Kagura and Shinpachi each placed a hand against the no-longer bared gate and gave it a firm push.

As the gates opened up a view of men in dark blue uniforms filled the front yard. There was so much happening in the compound as the Edo's police force had settled back home. Among them was none-other than the commander Gorilla. ”This feels a little nostalgic,” Shinpachi said with a smile.

”Yeah, in all honesty it's good to have them back,” Gintoki said quietly and took a step in.

”How about you Kagura-chan? Do you feel nostalgic?” Shinpachi asked.

”I don't know,” she answered. ”Maybe a little-aru.”

”OI! IT'S THE YOROZUYA!” Kondo shouted from a short distance. Every officer on the yard turned to look at the gates. To the yorozuya's slight embarrassment they were welcomed in with loud cheers and applauses. They were considered as great heroes of the final battle after all, loved and admired by everyone.

Kondo strode towards the trio with open arms and without a warning the jolly gorilla hugged the bandaged trio. ”Kondo-san!” Hijikata called from somewhere. A moment later the vice-commander yanked the emotional commander away from the hug. ”Let them breath would you.”

”Get back to work guys!” Hijikata ordered. He didn't want any unnecessary slacking off as there was a lot things to be taken care of. One of them being settling back to the compound and the other being taking care of the injured officers.

”It's okay Hijikata-san,” Shinpachi said to cool of the vice-commander.

”I'm just so happy to see you all and I'm glad that you're back on your feet,” Kondo said, the latter directed at Gintoki.

”I could say the same thing, you weren't exactly in best shape a couple of days ago,” Gintoki said. ”So, what's your next move tax-robbers?”

”Gin-san!” Shinpachi hissed.

”Oh come, I'm just joking.”

In the middle of all the chit-chat, Kagura remained awfully quiet. Usually she was right after Gintoki throwing some sort of insults on someone's way. But not today, she wasn't feeling like her bubbly self.

Hijikata noticed Kagura's strange behaviour. She had her umbrella dipped back, face slowly turning from side to side. Eyes wandering among the Shinsengumi officers. Was she looking for something? That was certainly the case in Hijikata's eyes.

Kagura didn't first notice the vice-commander stepping next to her. She snapped out of her thoughts with a flick of a lighter. Hijikata lighted up a cigarette and waited for Kagura to react. She said nothing, it felt like she was afraid to ask what was on her mind.

Hijikata blew out the fumes of his cigarette and cleared out his throat. ”Oi, follow me.”

”Why would I do that-aru?” she asked.

”Oh please, I can see what you're doing.”

Kagura stared at him with lips pressed tightly together, eyes telling of her suspicion. ”What are you saying?” she asked.

”Just follow me,” Hijikata said and turned his back on her. He made his way towards the main building and checked if Kagura was following. Just like he had expected she was right behind him. They entered the building as discreetly as possible.

Kagura closed her umbrella, but her grip on it was still tight, palms feeling strangely sweaty. She hadn't even done anything that difficult earlier, so why was she feeling like this, so anxious. Then again, of course she knew exactly why she felt like that. Hijikata stopped by the end of a hallway and turned to Kagura.

”He's there.”

”Who?”

”Stop it.”

”Fine...” Kagura agreed. She swallowed and looked down. ”How is he?”

”He's recovering. He might be resting right now, but you can go and see for yourself.”

”O-okay,” Kagura mumbled.

”I'll give you some privacy,” Hijikata said and passed by Kagura, with the intention of returning outside.

”Oi! I don't need any privacy with him!” Kagura shouted after Hijikata who ignored her completely.

With Hijikata out of sight, Kagura turned to the door. She touched it hesitantly, considering on should she enter or not. Then she relaxed her shoulders and slid the door open a bit. She had to see him, she wanted to see his chest rising peacefully, that was all she needed.

Inside the room she saw him, her rival, laying on his bed. Kagura opened the door a little more to see him better. He had his eyes closed, apparently Hijikata had guessed it right, he was sleeping.

Kagura entered the room, closing the door right after her. Softly and quietly, she kneeled down next to his futon. It felt strange to see him like this, peaceful and silent. Last time Kagura saw him laying like this was on the battlefield, but he wasn't exactly peaceful.

The memory of that day made her eyes feel watery. She remembered him couching blood, talking nonsense, breathing roughly, seemingly in pain. Kagura frowned her brows and felt a tear trailing down her cheek. ”Idiot,” she muttered, still conflicted on should she be more angry at him or more worried about him.

Then again, above all else, she felt great relief. He was alive, breathing.

”China...is it you?” Sougo asked quietly eyes narrowly open.

Kagura landed softly on her feet as another enemy went down in front of her. She heard that ominous chinkling sound coming from both of her sides. Two spears were coming on her way, but as expected from Kagura, she effortlessly dodged both. With one high jump she kicked both of her enemies simultaneously.

Her blood was rushing, adrenaline was pumping through her veins, she felt the heat of the battle in her soul. Kagura wasn't a yato who took pleasure in killing, but she loved the feeling of intense fighting.

After shooting a round of bullets on the incoming enemies, she saw Gintoki, Takasugi and Katsura advancing further. Kagura ran towards them through the rubble and fallen enemies. As agile as she was, there was a crack in the ground right on her way. Her eyes were so focused on Gintoki's back that one of her legs slid into the crack.

”Shit,” she muttered and tried to yank her leg free. But it didn't budge and the rough edges injured her ankle. The more she wiggled, the more it hurt. ”Dammit.”

For Kagura's dismay she heard a pack of enemies closing in. She popped her head up and saw at least ten of those bastards coming her way. Before Kagura could react she saw two men cut down each and every one of those who threatened her.

”Huh?” She recognized them both. ”Kamui! Sadist!”

Kamui turned to look at his little sister with a wide smile. ”Why are you sitting there? This isn't a playground.”

”I'm not sitting idiot! My leg got stuck.”

”Who gets their leg stuck in middle of the battlefield?” Kamui snorted.

”Give her a rest,” Sougo said calmly.

Kagura felt a little warmness on her cheeks. Was the sadistic prince defending her, she though.

”Maybe she just got tired and shoved her leg there on purpose,” Sougo added with an even calmer voice.

Kagura's nostrils were fuming. She gritted her teeth and was about to give Sougo a piece of her mind. Then another wave of enemies snapped her out her anger. ”Oi you two bastards! Eyes on the battlefield, yes.”

Both Sougo and Kamui smirked a little and with weapons ready they charged at the incoming enemies. Kagura huffed to herself and turned her attention on her foot. After a while of suffering, she was still stuck. She wasn't afraid of the pain, but she knew too much strain on her ankle could put her to the sidelines of the very important battle they were having.

Kagura glanced at the pair of sadists cutting down enemies and she could swear that they were fighting each other from time to time. After her sight was clear from enemies, she saw Sougo approaching her. He kneeled down to her level and looked at her leg.

”Let me help you there China,” he said and was about to touch her ankle.

”Hell no! You'll just break it again-aru.”

Sougo chuckled and shook his head. He lifted his eyes to look straight in to hers. Kagura felt something strange inside her as he looked at her. He wasn't as deadpan as he usually was, he was almost concerned or at least she thought he was.

”I won't, I promise,” he said. ”We need you out there China.”

”Hell yes you need me out there,” she huffed at Sougo. He didn't say a word to her and flashed a small smile. Kagura looked away from him and puffed her cheeks. Why was the sadist being so nice all of a sudden, she thought to herself.

Sougo shifted his attention to her stuck ankle. He moved her leg carefully to see better and then he saw her injury. ”You're bleeding China.”

Kagura turned to look at him. ”It's nothing, just a little scratch, yes.”

”Right,” he said like he knew what she was going to say.

”What?” Kagura huffed.

Sougo looked up and their eyes locked. For a short moment Kagura thought that sadistic bastard that always annoyed her to the max, made something flutter inside her. His crimson eyes were so focused on her and he almost looked a little...handsome?

Kagura tried to shake off the weird feeling and she looked away again. ”Stop staring at me weirdo and help me out here, yes,” she mumbled.

Sougo remained wordless and smiled a little. He took off his white cravat and gave it to Kagura. She snatched the piece of clothing from his hands and stared at it. ”Is this for sneezing?”

He sighed like he was amused by her. ”No idiot.”

”Who are you calling an idiot?”

”You, idiot.”

”Want me to kick your ass, yes.”

Then he sighed out of frustration. ”No!” Sougo said firmly, his voice even stun Kagura. She could tell from his voice if he was just engaging with their casual banter or was he serious. This time, he was dead serious. They shared a look again. ”It's for your ankle genius.”

Kagura blinked her eyes a couple of times. ”Oh...” she said quietly. ”Thanks.”

”Still so stubborn...” he said and focused back at her leg.

Kagura didn't really have a counter for his words. She had always been stubborn and even after two years she was on the quest to awaken Sadaharu, she remained stubborn.

”Don't move,” Sougo said and positioned both of his hands on her leg. Kagura gasped a little at the contact. Sougo's eyes darted at her and he lifted his fingers off her. ”Did I hurt you?”

”No, no you didn't,” Kagura said and dodged his gaze. She was so confused of her own behaviour. Why is my heart beating faster, Kagura thought and took in a deep calming breath. Sougo continued to free her from the damned crack. Kagura couldn't help herself, she wanted to look at him. She observed him from the corner of her eye. He was so focused and definitely looked like he was concerned.

”Okay China, I think I can get your leg free,” Sougo said without looking at her. ”It's gonna hurt a little so bear with it.”

”Okay.”

Sougo had both of his hand on her leg again, focus completely on her. Usually Sougo and Kagura were both famous for having their senses on high alert at a battlefield. This time unfortunately, they only focused on each other. Apparently one of the ”fallen” enemies nearby wasn't exactly dead.

Without neither Sougo or Kagura noticing, a man had picked themselves up from the ground and slowly started to approach the duo. Kagura's trail of thought was cut off by that blood-thirsty chinkling of a javelin. She shifted her sight from Sougo towards the infamous sound.

Kagura inhaled loudly as she saw a blood covered man closing in on them, javelin aimed at Sougo. The young captain noticed Kagura's strong reaction and looked at her face. Before he could ask her anything, his ears registered the chinkling.

”Sadist! Behind you!” Kagura shouted.

Sougo's fingers were on his katana in a second. He yielded his blade and turned around just as fast. Unfortunately the enemy was closer than Sougo expected. Kagura shrieked as Sougo's katana flew out of his hand with a powerful swing of the spear landing on his wrist.

Sougo hissed and the attacker didn't waste his element of surprise advantage. He kicked Sougo to his side. He landed against a rock next to Kagura. She saw him grunting, he had hit the rock head first. ”Sadist!” she called, but got no immediate answer.

Kagura turned to look at the man with the spear. He had a dead eyes, it was clear that no-matter who he faced, he would try to kill them. Kagura huffed and hastily tried to yank her leg out. Her efforts were futile.

The spear rose right in front of her eyes, ready to strike at her. Kagura gave up on her leg and prepared to stop the javelin with her hands. She wasn't sure was it possible but she didn't see any other option. Sougo's blurred vision started to clear out and all he saw was Kagura on the ground and the man about to launch his attack.

”No,” Sougo gritted between his teeth and pushed himself up. Kagura focused fiercely on the spear, but suddenly her whole line of sight was blocked by something or rather someone. A pair of hands slammed on Kagura's shoulders and she saw a flash of crimson orbs.

”Wha-” was all that Kagura got out of her mouth before blood spattered across her shirt. Her eyes stood wide and in utter disbelief. She saw Sougo right in front of her on his knees with a spear sticking out of his abdomen. He couched blood on the ground. ”W-what...?”

Just as fast as the man has struck with his spear he pulled it out of Sougo. He grunted from pain and Kagura felt him squeezing her shoulders tighter. ”C-china...”

Kagura was still too stunned to speak properly. She just watched the blood gushing out of his wound. His grip on her shoulders began to loosen and he slumped a little lower. Kagura listened to his raspy breathing and she could hear the blood gargling in his mouth. She tried to understand what had just happened. The sadist had jumped in front of the spear meant for her. She wanted to tell him how stupid he was for doing so, but this wasn't the time or place for that.

Their enemy was still there, apparently ready to strike again. Kagura felt her yato blood boiling, she wasn't going to let that happen. Sougo's hands slipped completely off her and he fell down on his side. Kagura clenched her fist and punched the ground under her, successfully breaking the crack where her leg was.

She knew it wasn't the smartest move, but it was the only way to protect both of them. As the ground cracked around her ankle, her wound deepened, but she didn't care. Kagura didn't waste a second and punched the man with all her yato might, sending him through three buildings in a distance. It was a punch like no-other, powered up by the anger she felt towards the man.

Kagura turned quickly to check on Sougo who had turned on his back. Blood was pooling under him, but he was still conscious. She rushed down to his level and checked his pulse. ”Oi! Sadist!” she called.

Sougo's breaths were short and wheezy, he was clearly in pain. ”Oi! Stay with me, yes.”

Kagura heard running steps coming closer to them. It was Kamui coming to check up on what took so long for Sougo to free her leg. ”Hey! What are you two chilling here when-”

”Shut up!”

Kamui's words were abruptly cut short by a distressed Kagura. ”Go and get help, now!” she ordered. Kamui stood few meters away from Kagura and Sougo, he couldn't quite see how dire the situation really was.

”Help? Did something hap-”

”HURRY UP BAKA-ANIKI!” Kagura roared. Kamui understood his sister wasn't playing around this time and he left to get help.

Kagura noticed that Sougo's skin was getting alarmingly pale, the warm colour of his skin was just the hollow shade of its normal state. She pressed his wound with her hand, trying her best to staunch the flow of blood. Sougo hissed at the pressure and opened his eyes.

Their eyes locked again, but Kagura wasn't sure what to say to him. Luckily he had something to say.

”Are you okay China?”

”Huh? Kagura voiced loudly. ”Me?”

”I...I just...” he said quietly as he struggled to breath.

”Stop talking, you're bleeding too much.”

”It's just...a little...scratch,” Sougo struggled to say with a smile on his face.

Kagura recalled herself using similar words earlier. He was truly an idiot, a reckless idiot, Kagura thought to herself with a heavy heart. She felt her eyes watering up, but she forbid herself from crying. There was no reason to cry, he was going to be fine...or that's what Kagura told herself to keep her mind calm.

”Stop talking nonsense, yes.”

Kagura kept her hand on his wound, but with her other hand she touched his cheek. It felt cold. Too cold. Despite the blood trails coming from his mouth, he had a peaceful look on his face. Then Sougo placed his hand over Kagura's hand on his cheek. He pressed his cheek against her hand and allowed his eyes to slid shut.

”Don't lose...don't...die...” Sougo breathed. ”...Chi-na...”

After calling her pet name rather sweetly, he fell unconscious. Kagura could only stare at him, helpless feeling taking over her brain. ”Sadist, oi! Now it's not the time to take a nap, yes.” She knew he didn't hear her anymore, but she didn't know what else to do.

Of course she blamed herself first, if her leg hadn't got stuck, none of this would have happened. But then again, she didn't ask for him to throw himself in front of the spear.

This wasn't the first time Sougo had done something drastic to save her, but this...this was on a whole other level. But why, that was the main question on Kagura's mind.

Kamui and the field medics arrived soon after Sougo fell unconscious. She watched as he was carried away and that was the moment she finally allowed herself to react. Kamui saw how shaken Kagura was about the whole situation and he knew exactly what he had to do.

”Hey sis, you have to forget about the earth police for now and get over it.”

Kagura turned to look at Kamui with a baffled look on her face. ”Forget? How can I forget him after he just-”

”Kagura!” Kamui called to stop her rambling. She waited in silence, tears burning in her eyes, ready to wet her cheeks.

Kamui sighed softly and place his hand on Kagura's shoulder. ”I mean, you can't undo what just happened, there's only one thing you can do right now.”

Kagura swallowed her tears. ”And what's that?”

”Fight. You can fight.”

Kagura pondered his words for a moment and she knew he was right. ”Fight?”

”Yes.”

”You have a point there Kamui,” she admitted.

”Let's go then,” Kamui said with his standard smile. Kagura hummed as her answer. She realized that fighting was her speciality. She was most useful fighting in the frontlines, not somewhere crying her eyes out.

”Ah, wait a second Kamui,” Kagura said and reached for something in her pocket. She pulled out a white piece of clothing.

”What's that?”

Kagura glanced at the fabric. She tried to ignore the fact that she accidentally smudged Sougo's blood all over the cravat. ”It's for my ankle,” she said and tied the piece of clothing around her wounded ankle, just like she was instructed by a brave idiot.

Kagura's ankle was still bleeding a little bit. As she ran with Kamui towards their enemy her own blood mixed with the stains of Sougo's blood on the cravat. It made it easier to pretend that it was her blood all along.

Kagura didn't answer his question, she was caught off guard by him waking up.

”China, is it really you?” Sougo asked and tried to open his eyes wider.

”Yeah, it's me,” she said quietly without looking at him.

”I see.”

The room felt sort of awkward. There were things Kagura wanted to get off her chest, but she wasn't sure was he in right shape to listen to her.

”How are you feeling?” Kagura asked quite formally.

Sougo got his eyes finally fully open. He looked at her straight into her eyes, but she didn't answer the glance. ”I'm okay.”

”Good.”

This must have been the only time Sougo saw Kagura so wordless and stoic, it wasn't like her at all.

”Hijikata told me you got your dog back.”

”I did.”

Sougo sighed, he didn't like that she was dodging his eyes. ”China?” he called with his usual tone, but Kagura picked up a hint of annoyance from him.

”What?”

”Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind, mmh?”

”I don't know what you're talking about sadist.”

Sougo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She was seriously the embodiment of stubbornness. ”I can see you have something to say China,” he said and opened his eyes. ”So get on with it.”

”You're wrong, yes.”

”Stop behaving like an idiot and talk to me,” Sougo said, voice on the edge of demanding.

”Idiot...me?” Kagura asked and looked at him. Idiot. That was the only word running through Kagura's mind. Him calling her an idiot finally triggered her vocal cords. Here we go, Sougo thought to himself and braced himself for what ever she had to say.

Kagura exhaled deeply and threw everything she was feeling at Sougo. ”I am not the idiot here. You are the idiot! A reckless idiot!”

”Me?” Sougo managed to say in between Kagura's words.

”Yes you! Who is stupid enough to jump into a spear? Huh? Who told you to jump there?”

”But-”

”Why the hell would you do something to careless? Risking your life for no-reason. Why? WHY?”

”BECAUSE!” Sougo raised his voice over Kagura's, successfully shutting her right up. He sure liked to run his mouth, but he didn't yell. Ever. Kagura's eyes were wide as she stared at him. He exhaled to calm down a bit.

”What was I supposed to do, huh? Let him run the spear through you?”

”Yes, it was meant for me,” Kagura said like it was the most obvious answer there could be.

”Oh please.”

”What?”

”Like I would never let that happen.”

”B-but...” Kagura said with voice cracking up. ”You could have died...I don't want you to die!” she said with tears in her eye.

Sougo huffed roughly and pushed himself to sit up, cautiously careful of his injury. She placed her hands on his shoulders. ”No, no! You need to rest, yes,” Kagura said and tried to push him back on the bed.

”I'm fine, now listen to me.”

Their faces were inches apart. His deep crimson eyes were staring right into her soul or that's what it felt like for Kagura.

”On the day I lost the most important person in my life I couldn't do anything to prevent it from happening, so I made a promise to myself.” Kagura listened carefully and focused on every word coming out of his lips.

”No matter the situation, I swore never to let that happen again. Even if it would cost me my own life, I would gladly die protecting that person.”

Kagura's heart skipped a beat. She sobbed a little, slowly understanding what he was saying.

”Am I..the most..?” Kagura asked quietly, half of the words drowning with her tears. She slowly dropped her hands from his shoulders to his chest.

”Yes,” Sougo simply said with gentle eyes. She felt overwhelmed, was this really the same Okita Sougo she had known all these years. Apparently he was. Kagura grasped his yukata with both hands and leaned closer to him with a hitched breath.

Gintoki entered a hallway in the Shinsengumi quarters. Hijikata was right behind him, guiding him towards Sougo's room. ”So, is Sofa-kun going to be alright?” Gintoki inquired, genuinely worried.

”Thankfully yes. He was really lucky the spear didn't hit any vital organs,” Hijikata explained.

Before they reached Sougo's room, his door was slammed wide open. Kagura rushed out of the room as fast as she could. ”Kagura? Are you okay?” Gintoki asked, but he didn't get any answers from her. Kagura dashed past the two men while covering her face with her arm.

Gintoki looked dumbfounded, he was like John Travolta looking confused as fuck, waving the air with an imaginary coat. Hijikata got instantly worried about Sougo, had something happened to him to make the young yato woman act so strangely.

”China?!” Sougo's voice called from the room. Gintoki and Hijikata enter Sougo's room like two worried dads.

”What the hell happened here?” Gintoki asked.

Sougo was still sitting on his bed, with an amused look on his face.

”Are you hurt?” Hijikata asked.

”No.”

”Kagura just ran past us and she was really shaken,” Gintoki said and immediately suspected that the sadistic captain had something to do with it. ”Did you say something bad to her?”

”No.”

”Well, did you do something to her?” Gintoki asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

”Um...no.”

”Why the hesitation?” Gintoki asked eyes squinted.

”Sougo is still recovering, stop harassing him perm-head,” Hijikata hissed.

”It's okay Hijibaka-san,” Sougo said to his superior. ”I didn't do anything...it was all her.”

”What?” Gintoki asked, he didn't like puzzles or cryptic answers.

”Ah, nothing danna. Maybe I should get some rest,” Sougo said and carefully laid back to his bed.

Hijikata had to drag out the suspicious Gintoki out of the room as he was throwing more and more questions at Sougo, who only gave annoyingly vague answers.

Meanwhile Kagura reached the Shinsengumi's gates. She exited the compound and leaned against the outer walls near the gate. Her back against the wall, she slowly let her whole body slide down all the way to the ground.

Kagura's breathing was fast but not as rapid as her heartbeat. She touched her lips with her fingers like there was something new and exciting to feel. As a cute smile curled on her lips the heavy blush on her cheeks spread even wider.

#okikagu #gintama #kagura #okita sougo #okita x kagura #fanfiction #one-shot #mild manga spoilers

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cfijerusalem · 5 years

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THE AMAZING AND BREATHTAKING LAND OF ISRAEL

“But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land, those you allow to remain will become barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides. They will give you trouble in the land where you will live” (Numbers 33:55, NIV)

As Christians living in Israel many years now, we can truthfully say that Israel does not try to drive anyone from their Land, but currently many Palestinians do not want to live in peace with Israel, a Land which God is growing, developing and making beautiful as He said He would do once His People came home. There will be a day coming when there is no more terror in the Land, once the Lord returns. May the hearts of Israelis not grow faint, and may they not be afraid of daily reports in the Land, for the reports come year after year, and violent attempts at removing the Jewish people continue to be made. Removing God’s People from their Land will never happen because it is against God’s Will. “I will bring back the captives of My people Israel; they shall build the waste cities and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and drink wine from them; they shall also make gardens and eat fruit from them. I will plant them in their land, and no longer shall they be pulled up, from the Land I have given them,” Says the Lord your God” (Amos 9:14-15). For further study on the permanence of the Jewish people once back in their Land, please take the time to study the following Scriptures: Jeremiah 24:6; 7:7; 12:2; 2 Chronicles 33:8. Perhaps, read them aloud together to see how God feels about returning His People home. All peoples who wish to live in peace with them are welcome!

There WILL come a day when the threat of terror is no more. God promises this to His Chosen People: Israel. “No longer will violence be heard in your land, nor ruin or destruction within your borders, but you will call your walls Salvation and your gates Praise” (Isaiah 60:18, NIV).

Just think! One day in the future, when Messiah returns, the very walls of the Old City of Jerusalem will be called SALVATION! Yeshua’s name literally means salvation. There will not even be a mention of disturbance of the wonderful peace brought by Messiah. When you enter Jaffa Gate, or Lion’s Gate or New Gate praise will be written above it, or coming from it. It will be wonderful. Joshua Hasten is the International Spokesperson for Gush Etzion, and he reported recently, in Inside Israel as follows: “…In response to the launch of US President Trump’s upcoming peace plan, PA officials are threatening to launch a “popular uprising” later this month… The language used is essentially a threat of violence and terror. Ironically…when a third party such as the US initiates a plan that they don’t like, that violence is somehow always directed at Israel…Israel must fight to maintain her God-given orders. Each day is a continual struggle against infiltration… and the complex issue which often follows is retaliatory raids. As the President of Israel said recently at a Christian conference, “We are on God’s side!” which makes us unique in our fight against our enemies. This should not be under-estimated.

Another prayer concern is the repeat election due on September 17th, the drafting of Yeshiva students, and arguments between politicians. What are the answers? We must stand with Israel through all of her outside, and inside struggles in the spirit of prayer. The September 17 repeat election will most likely be a lot more complex than people expect. We must pray that God’s choice for a leader for Israel at this time will become the will of the people’s choice. Some believe that Bibi Netanyahu has walked into a mine field and that his party is doomed. However, GOD will have the last say as He tells us: As in the days of Jeroboam, God Himself will raise up a king (a leader) to lead Israel. “The LORD will raise up for Himself a king over Israel….”

When the Jewish people decided to return to their homeland (especially after WWII, 1948) and began to rebuild their lives there, the first Zionists dreamed of a beautiful land of “milk and honey” (Exodus 3:17) as mentioned in the Jewish Bible. From one Jewish source it is termed “a land of milk and honey” because when Messiah is ruling and reigning from Jerusalem one day in the future, there will be no more bloodshed and violence. Cows give milk without pain nor bloodshed. Bees give honey without pain and bloodshed; therefore, it is thought that this is one meaning of this wonderful term. There were swamps before the beautiful fertile land we see today. If one visits, they can see many fields of wheat, corn, oranges, lemons and much, much more. The exporting of many varieties of Israeli agricultural products abroad to other nations is a dream that started years and years ago. (Information from Lp.rosenhebrewschool.com). When my husband and I arrived in 1985, even what we saw back then, some thirty years ago, was the start of a portrait of a Land truly blessed by the God of Israel’s Hand. He promised the Land would thrive and bloom once He brought his scattered people back to their Homeland, His Choice for them forever. Enjoy a few verses from God’s Eternal Word which will encourage anyone who is reading them that the God we also love, is fulfilling His Promises for all the world to see. The marvelous Land and People are for everyone in the nations to come and visit. Don’t put off a trip to Israel before God calls you home. See what HE is doing: the people have been given a “mind to work”, they have been given a desire to “rebuild”, and He has put within their hearts the creative ideas to paint His Land with color and dimension as they plant and restore. Only a visit of your own to Israel will make Israel come alive to you; then your Bible will become even more alive, living, dynamic, and current.

LET US BESEECH THE LORD IN PRAYER

Pray for God’s Word to continue to come to pass just as He said it would. God would never make a promise that He would not keep as He is not a man that He can lie. Derek Prince always said, “God never makes a mistake!” “God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?” (Numbers 23:19, NIV). Israel is certainly a miracle straight from God, and proves that what God says He means.

Intercede fervently for hatred to be removed from the hearts of many Palestinians who have been fed a continual menu of lies against Israel since they were born. The stories of Palestinians meeting Jesus in dreams and visions have changed them completely as they often receive a love for Israel immediately. “His talk is smooth as butter, yet war is in his heart; his words are more soothing than oil, yet they are drawn swords” (Psalm 55:21, NIV). “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls” (Matthew 11:28-30, KJV). May the Palestinians who hate so deeply find rest for their souls.

Thank God for the abundance of harvest and wonderful products which the Land is producing at the Hand and love of God. “In days to come Jacob will take root, Israel will bud and blossom and fill all the world with fruit” (Isaiah 27:6, NIV).

Pray the Promises that God will cause the Jewish people to continue to “build” as they continue making their way home from the nations of the world. Thank the Lord that His Love endures forever for Israel and that as long as His Creation in the Heavenlies last, so will Israel live. “Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. For His love endures forever” (Psalm 136:1, NIV).

Implore the Lord to cause His Holy Spirit to pass through Israel and bring a great revival here of repentance, reading of God’s Word, and a vision which God has for the nation for the future.

As long as God is in control and He will ALWAYS be in control of His World, His Word will continue to come to pass, the nation of Israel will continue to thrive and grow (even amidst war and terror), and His Plans and Purposes for the nation will come into being at His Exact Timing. As Christians, let us pray for Yeshua’s soon return in which all will hear the Word of the Lord “from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3)

Until He Arrives, Sharon Sanders

Christian Friends of Israel - Jerusalem email: [email protected]

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insolublesalts · 7 years

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BTS GOBLIN AU - CH 1

A/N: A taekook fic based on the kdrama Goblin. Written by my lovely bff @stupendouspaperplane and edited by me. Sideships include yoonmin and namjin. Other alternative ships might happen if we decide to do alternative endings. Try to figure out who’s who ;)

Feedback is appreciated!! Hopefully Chapter 2 will be up next week!!

Prologue // 1 // 2 // 3

Lightning streaked through the light grey sky while thunder crackled in the heavens. A man, dressed smartly in silk robes, marched towards the main gate of the palace with a sheathed sword in a hand. Villagers that he passed scurried away quickly, not because of the weapon he had, but because of the deep scowl he wore on his face. People knew what had happened to him, and had a vague idea of what he was going to do next.

In a moderate pace, step by step he made his way to his destination. He arrived at the great gate of the palace, only to be stopped by the iron doors and a few bulky guards. The guards held spears, ready to attack or defend if the man decided to make a move. “Let me through.” He said in a deep, gruff tone. “My business is not with you.” Before he could even finish talking, the guards charged in his direction with all their might. Without drawing his blade he knocked them down one by one, leaving only minor bruises on the men.

Shortly there was only him in front at the gate, waiting for the iron doors to surrender and give way. “Let me in.” His voice deep as the ocean but soft as the clouds above. “Let me in!” He screamed at the top of his voice while thunder boomed in the sky as if the gods were on his side. Soon the grand iron doors opened, slowly and reluctantly. Once there was a big enough gap for him to go through, the man in silk continued his journey, marching towards the palace bravely while his long hair flowed in the wind. His footsteps sounded against the polished stone path, taking him towards short flights of stairs, on top of it where the king and the officers stood.

He was not even a few meters in when the king stopped him. “Kim Taehyung!” The king shouted his name and his footsteps came to a halt.

Taehyung scanned the king from head to toe. The powerful figure was dressed in a dark silk, matching his jet black hair and cold eyes. “Why are you mourning ?” Taehyung spoke slowly, the rage building inside of him. “What is he to you that you felt the need to mourn his death ?!” The last few words were shouted out loud for the world to hear.

“He was my everything!” The king answered furiously, already on the edge of breaking down.

“Then why did you just let him die like that! Why?! ”

“It had to be done! If you’d stop being such a weakling for once he would still be alive and well!”

Taehyung had enough. One step at a time he advanced towards the king, slowly picking up his pace and broke into running. Soldiers automatically surrounded him and slashed their blades at him. Some soldiers he successfully knocked down, but he suffered nicks and cuts everywhere. He was bleeding profusely, red oozing out from his injuries, staining his light coloured clothes crimson before dripping onto the hard ground. Soon his legs felt weak and they gave way under him. He knelt on the ground, waiting for another blow from a soldier.

“Stop !” The king ordered and the soldiers ceased. Slowly he made his way down the steps carefully towards the exhausted man, his head hanging low, sweat trailing down his cheeks and along his strong jawline. Taehyung looked up to see the king advancing towards him. With shaky hands, he unsheathed his sword, pointing the weapon towards him.

“Don’t come near me.” Taehyung growled. Upon reaching him, the king swiftly kicked his blade out of his grasp and into the air. The blade turned in the air before landing, it’s handle in the king’s hand. He held it firmly, lowering it down until the tip of the weapon was right above his vulnerable chest. The sharp blade glinted in the remaining sunlight that escaped the heavy, thick clouds.

“It should have been you all along.” The king said coldly before he pierced the sword right through his chest. Taehyung spat out blood, the blood splattering on the floor. His eyelids fluttered before closing completely while life abandoned his body.

“Take his body far away in the mountains.” Ordered the king before turning away and walking back to his quarters. Taehyung’s lifeless body was left in the forest, his mighty sword still in his heart. The people came and prayed for him to rest in peace, their cries became a melody for the once peaceful plain. It was noon, when the sun shone the brightest, when his life was taken away.

When a powerful desire dwells in things touched by mortal souls, they become goblins. A blade smeared with blood from countless battles was enchanted with a powerful desire bedewed with it’s master’s blood. Only the bride of the goblin will be able to draw the blade. Once drawn, everything will turn to ashes, and peace will be granted.

*****

Morning sunlight was leaking through the gaps between the curtains, a ray of sunlight even landed directly at his face. He groaned while climbing out of his bed slowly then proceeded drag himself towards the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. After a few attempts he managed to chase his dreams away -if only those were just dreams- and greeted his reflection in the mirror. “Morning Tae, seems like you are still living and breathing.”

He sighed and grabbed a cloth to wipe his face. It had been centuries since he lived with the curse, he had tried hard to find his bride -the only person that could see the sword and remove it from his chest, or so the divinity told him- but as time passed and countless girls he had seen there was still no luck. He had started to think that God is just torturing him more by giving him false hope, letting him search for his bride that's non- existent in this world.

He was the Goblin. He had powers. He was immortal. These are everything other humans want, an extraordinary life, but not him. I just want to live a normal life with passion and love, to die when time comes. And also, to forget. He did not want to wake up to the horrible memories everyday. He did not want to remember the faces of his loved ones only to feel the grief that comes with it. He did not want to remember the one he hated, because there was nothing he could do about it.

cBut what could he do? He had tried everything, to find his bride, to die. Nothing worked, so he chose the only option left - to live. Here he is, V, a history professor at a local university who was loved by his students and co-workers. He walked out of his bathroom and opened the curtains with a swift move of his hand. The garden outside was decorated with various shades of greens, in middle of it stood a slim, tall figure.

Taehyung watched with a fond smile as the man walked around to greet the plants and water each and every one of them with a bright smile on his face. It was heartwarming to witness a life that shone so bright, knowing that once this very flame of life was nearly extinguished. He pushed open the window and leaned towards the frame.

“Good morning, Hoseok.”

*****

The school hell rang and students poured out of the lecture hall. One of the students was stiff in his seat, not a sign showed that he was planning to leave the hall. Every fibre in his body was alert to his surroundings. “Please go out… go… shoo…” the student mumbled as he pretended to check on his phone. When the hall was finally empty, he closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands, ears and cheeks still burning lightly at the memory.

It was Jungkook’s first day at university, a week later than others due to family issues which he really did not want to remember. Which was why he missed the orientation week, and also, why he ended up here in an empty hall questioning his life.

The day actually started out fine, wonderful even. The weather was relatively warm, blue sky and white clouds were welcoming him to his new life in Seoul. He managed his way around the campus and talked to the administration staff to finish off some procedures. They gave him his keys to his accommodation and told him that his stuff was already sent there. He was waiting to be guided to his first lecture when the staff member received a call.

“I'm sorry, I need to answer this.” the lady gave him an apologetic look before turning away to answer the call.

Now, don't get Jungkook wrong. He definitely was not the kind to stick his nose up in others’ businesses. It was not his fault that he got curious when the lady hissed whispers at her phone and her shoulder tensed as she did so. Jungkook looked away just in time before the lady would call him a freak and throw him out of the office.

Jungkook pretended to inspect his set of keys when the lady ended the call with a harsh goodbye and turned to face him. “I have some emergency to handle, do you think you can find your way around on your own or I could ask someone else to help you?” The man took a look around the busy office and had a self debate whether he would need the help. Finding a lecture hall won't be that hard, right? He gave her a reassuring smile before saying a polite “I think I'll manage on my own.” and excused himself out .

That, is no doubt the worst decision he had ever made in his life.

Jungkook knew something was wrong when he opened up a door which led to a small classroom instead of a lecture hall. He was going to close the door and turn away before anyone noticed him. Instead he found himself unable to take his eyes off a man who seems to be the professor. The man hasn't acknowledged his presence yet, as he was busy flipping through a thick textbook in order to answer one of his student’s questions.

The professor was a damn good looking young man, with a head of blonde hair, tan skin, strong jawline -- God, is he even real? --, soft red lips, and a pair of beautiful brown eyes… that was looking right at his. Jungkook let out an unmanly squeak and instinctively took a step back only to stumble on his own feet. He lost balance and the papers and books he held in his hands dropped to the ground with a loud ‘thud’. The next thing he knew, there was more than twenty pairs of eyes staring at him. An awkward silence filled the room before it exploded into whispers and gossip.

Shit. Jungkook quickly kneeled down to pick up his belongings which were all over the place. He felt his cheeks burning up with embarrassment as he overheard the words that were being passed around the room. He could almost feel a hole burning into his head where the students stared at him. With everything balanced in his arm, he stood up and was only surprised to find those beautiful pair of eyes still on him. His cheeks and ears was so red he must have looked like a tomato.

Jungkook quickly looked away and mumbled a sorry before darting out of the class. He could hear the professor’s deep voice telling the students to calm down and continue their discussion. He let the breeze cool him down while he ran full speed towards his lecture hall. And this time, he make sure to double check the numbers on the doors before stepping in.

Jungkook frowned while he walked out of the lecture hall. Even now, several hours after the incident, he still could not get over with the fact the he, Jeon Jungkook, embarrassed himself on the first day at university by walking into the wrong class, openly stared at their professor and made a fool out of himself. The worst part is, despite everything that happened, he could not take his mind of the stunning professor.

The way he looked was so flawless and angelic even without trying. His suit which matched so perfectly with his sun kissed skin and dark blond hair. His voice was surprisingly so deep and rich that he wondered what would his name sound like in that voice. Oh my god, Jungkook shook his head once he realised what he was thinking. You need to chill, he’s a professor goddamit.

Besides, you made a fool of yourself right in front of him, he’ll only think of you as one of those clueless students. He sighed at the thought and decided he need a long, hot shower to wash away all the bad luck. Everything will get better with a hot shower. He quickened his pace towards his dorm, already feeling a lot better at the thought of resting after a long day.

*****

The first thing Jungkook realised when he stepped his foot in his dorm, was that he never really contacted his roommate beforehand. Last week had been such a chaos that he only managed to scan through the information that was attached in the email send by the university. He suddenly felt nervous to meet his roommate whom he did not even remember the name of. Is it Jeon Ho Sook? He remembered someone with the same surname as him and was studying psychology.

“Hello?”, Jungkook called. After a few seconds of silence he concluded that his roommate was probably not back from class yet. He let himself relax and took in his surroundings. The small place was neat --thankfully, Jungkook did not want to cope with those messy roommates-- and simply decorated with a few pictures here and there. He closed the door behind him and changed into one of the pair of slippers that was by the door.

Jungkook walked past the common area (aka the living room and kitchen, and don’t forget the toilet, fortunately they are both guys) and towards the two closed doors where their bedrooms were located. He tried the door on the left but it was locked, so he assumed that that was his roommate’s room. The door on the right opened with a soft click, there were boxes and duffel bags sitting on the floor waiting to be unpacked. The room was small and simple, with a bed, a desk with some shelves and a closet. He put down his books and bag on the desk and searched for one of the bags where his toiletries and clothes were.

Fuck unpacking, he could get everything he needed from the bags for now. Jungkook gathered everything in his hands and walked towards the bathroom. He was humming to himself as he set his stuff on a rack, the bathroom had a sweet scent of vanilla and lavender, a strong contrast against his own that smelled like sweat and mint. He undid his scarf carefully and hung it on one of the hooks behind the door.

It was a bright red scarf gifted by his childhood friend- Jimin. The scarf’s colour was not as bright as it was back then but it was kept in good condition nonetheless. It was no doubt his favourite scarf as it was his memory of their friendship. The duo had long lost contact when he moved to Busan with his stepdad when he was 13, and Jungkook always kept it around to remind him that he would find his friend one day. Now that he was thinking about it, he could finally begin his search now that he was back in Seoul. He should probably start from the area they lived back then, Jimin might still live there if he was lucky.

Jungkook undressed himself and finally took a shower. The boy was lost in his thoughts hence he did not notice that someone had entered the dorm room. The newcomer had a head of red hair and wore an oversized lavender sweater with a pair of black skinny jeans. His expression and posture was the definition of tiredness. He slipped his feet into a pair of indoor slippers, unaware that the second pair was missing. The boy padded towards his room and removed his headphones once he let his bedroom door click shut behind him.

A small pool of water immediately formed beneath Jungkook as he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his head and a pile of dirty clothes in his arms. He walked towards the balcony where he had spotted the washing machine earlier and threw his dirty clothes into the washing machine. The red headed boy came out of his room just when Jungkook was busy figuring out whether he should use his roommate’s lavender scented detergent to wash his clothes. He did not notice Jungkook as he went straight to the bathroom.

“Ahh, my scarf…”, Jungkook groaned when he was about to switch on the washing machine. He mumbled a ‘got you’ when his fingers sensed the soft material of his scarf from the hook behind the door when he felt that something wasn’t right. There was the sound of running water, did he not close the shower properly? He grabbed the scarf and swung the door open with a swift motion, only to be greeted by the sight of a naked man under the shower.

Both of them stared at each other in disbelief for a brief moment before the man in the shower recovered from the shock and hid himself with his hands. “What the fuck!?”, the man shouted and closed the shower curtain while Jungkook slammed the door shut with such a great force he could feel the walls shaking. “OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY!”, Jungkook shouted on the top of his lungs, his cheeks flushed up in embarrassment as he took a few steps back.

After a split second, the man stormed out of the bathroom with still dripping wet hair and a towel around his waist, leaving a trail of water on the floor as he did so. He ran a hand through his hair and pushed it back in frustration, leaving his forehead on display. “I CAN’T BELIEVE-” The man stomped up close to Jungkook, his index finger pointed upwards, right at Jungkook’s nose. “Who the hell are you!? Why are you in my dorm!?" Jungkook hid his face behind his hands and scarf, unable to look at the small, half naked man standing in front of him. “I’m so so sorry!”

Despite being smaller and shorter than the other, half-naked guy was furious and intimidating as he eyed Jungkook up and down with laser sharp gaze. “Yah! I’m asking you who are you? Stop hiding your face!” He shouted as he pulled the scarf away. Jungkook’s eyes sprang open comically at the man’s action, his stomach now bubbling with anger. “Hey! Give back my scarf!” How dare he take his stuff, let alone that ‘stuff‘ being that scarf, rude.

The guy --Ho Sook? Ho Seok? Whatever his name is-- took a few steps back and lifted the scarf high when Jungkook tried to get it back. “Answer my question first! Who are you!?” Jungkook reached for his scarf but the other was faster than him, he always turned just in time to escape Jungkook's grip. After a few failed attempts, Jungkook sighed and rolled his eyes at the other’s stubbornness. “Fine. I’m your roommate. You know, the one that is going to live with you for the next twelve months? Does that ring a bell?”, he said sarcastically.

Jungkook expected a sassy reply from the man but instead his expression went blank at Jungkook's words. He seems to be deep in thought as he didn't realise the other approaching him. Jungkook called him a few times but the other either did not heard it or decided to ignore him. He shrugged and took the chance to take back the scarf from his loosen grip and stole a glance at his roommate.

Jungkook can't help but to admit his roommate had a perfect body, lean muscles were lining his bare arms and chest, and not an extra inch of fat on his stomach. Yet his face didn’t seem to match his face. No, Jungkook did not mean that in a bad way, his face was just way too cute. Actually, everything about the man was cute, his height, his sound, the way his hair was sticking up in every direction possible, he hasn't even started on his hands-

“O-ohh, I think Hobi hyung did mention about a roommate...”, he said in a small voice, but it was enough to snap Jungkook out of his stare, “What did you say?”. Now it was small guy’s turn to get shy, he gave Jungkook an apologetic smile after he came to sense that how much he was overreacting. It was obvious wasn't it, who else would be in his dorm besides his roommate? “I'm sorry.. I forgot you were supposed to come today.” He apologized. Now, this is the best chance to give a bitchy comment and get back at him. He deserved it after all, for taking the scarf.

“I guess I'm sorry too, for, you know..”, he gestured towards his roommate. What? Jungkook wanted to hit himself in the face for coming up with such a lame reply but decided against it, the smile he earned was totally worth it. His eyes form crescents as he face broke into a big smile. It was so contagious Jungkook found himself mirroring the other’s smile.

The duo fell into an awkward silence, Jungkook cleared his throat and looked down to check on his scarf. “So, Hoseok hyung is it ? I hope you won't mind that I used your detergent to wash my clothes..” He walked towards the coffee table and knelt down to smooth the scarf out on the table. “No, actually I’m not-”, his eyes were on Jungkook the whole time. He swore that the scarf looked familiar the first time he laid his eyes on it.

Jungkook squeaked when a pair of hands took the scarf rather harshly from him. “I told you don't touch my scarf!” He watched in disbelief as his roommate’s small fingers ran through the material and flipping it over as if he was looking for something. “What are you doing?”, he asked. But the other ignored him, his searching stopped when he spotted a signature and a smiley face on one of the ends of the scarf.

“Jungkookie?”, he ran his fingers over the faded signature and finally lifted his head to look at Jungkook with teary eyes. “Is it really you Jungkook?” He took a step forward while Jungkook instinctively took a step backwards. “What?” Confused is an understatement, is this some kind of joke ? Was he suppose to laugh ?

He laughed at Jungkook’s cluelessness and pointed at the signature on the scarf with a small smile. “Jungkook, I’m Jimin hyung.”

#bts #bangtan #taekook #yoonmin #namjin #bts goblin au #bts goblin #goblin #bts fic #my shit #bts jin #bts suga #bts jhope #bts rap monster #bts jimin #bts v #bts jungkook #inso and joanne's fic #exam's soon we're fucked

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davidastbury · 4 years

Text

The Bookshop in The Strand

I didn’t see much of The Publisher. I wish I’d got to know him a bit better. It was obvious he was going through a bad time - quarrelling all day on the phone with people - upset and struggling to get his magazine kicked-off - upset that his latest relationship had flopped and he was alone again - upset that he was losing his looks and his efforts with make-up caused people to snicker ...and yet he was courageous and optimistic. He was also astonishingly kind.

Once, when Roger was out getting the coffees, he forced a rolled up £5 note into my jacket pocket.

He said - ‘Take it! You’re young - you mustn’t go short.’

Caroline and Sharon

I may not have been the most appreciative or appreciated guest at Russell’s house; I may not have been the most frequent visitor - I may even not have been Caroline’s most devoted admirer.

Let me introduce Sharon - an old friend of Caroline’s mother, who happened to live nearby, within ‘pop round for a quick chat’ distance. I saw her many times. She was a teacher - not at a school, I think it was at a higher-education college in Manchester. She was rangy and had a tough-guy manner; giving the impression that she wasn’t someone to mess with. She wore tight tops and baggy trousers. There had once been a husband but was gone - disposed of, or divorced, or murdered. I liked her eyes - they were icy and fantastically alert - she had eyes like film-star, eyes like Lauren Bacall.

One afternoon - Russell had gone out with his mother, but wouldn’t be long - I went into the kitchen and found Sharon alone with Caroline.

Oh the white-hot perceptiveness of an awkward, unhappy thirteen-year-old boy!

I had walked into something totally new and unknown - the intensity of female friendship. The crinkly-eyed smiles. The clutching of tea mugs in both hands. The standing cross-legged and swaying. The tartish leaning. The elbow cupped in the palm. The unbelieving head tossing. The sticking out stomach. The spontaneous, best-friend hugs. The innocent pats!

All this came at me in that bright modern kitchen. I backed out, away from the angry eyes, the bright appliances and the air crackling with lust.

Father: ‘What’s that you’re reading?’

Son: ‘A book father. It is called ‘My Life In Art’ by a

Russian named Konstantin Sergeievich Stanislavski.’

Father: ‘It’s about time you got some bloody work done.’

This morning

Breakfast in the garden! A lot of rain last night and everything was soaked and dripping. High above me, bunched together, a gang of crows. I call them crows but people who know more than I do, tell me that they are jackdaws; my reply is ‘they are still members of the crow family’.

They watched me, wobbling on the branches, opaque black shapes, sour black, to use Dylan Thomas’ words ‘bible black’; solid and chunky, eyes shuttering. Each time I moved one of them called out, a shriek of some sort, a swear word - crows only know swear words. If I remained motionless they became silent, but the slightest movement, like reaching for my coffee, provoked echoing shouts of abuse.

Eventually I collected my plates and newspaper and headed indoors. One of them called out and all the others joined in.

To me, heavy and land-locked and short-sighted, it sounded like laughter.

This morning

Eventually I collected my plates and newspaper and headed indoors. One of them called out and all the others joined in.

To me, heavy and land-locked and short-sighted, it sounded like laughter.

Two Russians

Nabokov did not much care for Solzhenitsyn’s style of writing but he very much cared for what he had to say. He contacted the dissident writer in 1974, shortly after his dismissal from the Soviet Union, saying that they should meet. Solzhenitsyn was released into West Germany but then travelled to Switzerland. Letters were exchanged - Solzhenitsyn accepted the invitation. Nabokov and his wife Vera prepared their apartment in the Montreux alace Hotel for the visit.

A date was set and Sol arrived at the front of the hotel. But it then occurred to him that when he asked for a time, Nabokov had not replied. There had not been a finalisation of details, as if the last letter had been lost. Or perhaps there was something else?

He began to think that Nabokov may not have wished to meet him at all - that he wasn’t being sincere and hadn’t meant to be taken at his word.

He stopped a taxi and got in.

On The Train.....Entomology

She sits, pensive over her devise, fingers dancing over the illuminated screen. And then suddenly a convulsive movement! Both hand clawing at the air in front of her face; she has been troubled by a fly, a tiny fly, perhaps a mosquito. She’s quite startled; she’s trying to gather her thoughts - and then the mosquito attacks again.

The mosquito is ferociously, fatally, promiscuously attracted to her. No amount of hand flapping will deter or divert his compulsion - he has found what he really wants. Her head jerks back, repulsed, and I see for the first time the astonishing colbat-blue of her irides - pools of nectar for his pulsing labellum, his flailing flagellomere, his aching proboscis.

Donald Coggan, who went on to become the Archbishop of Canterbury, was told by a toastmaster at a dinner to speak close to the microphone because - ‘the agnostics here are terrible’.

Ian And Lorna ... 1965

Ian was as innocent as a child, always believing people were what they seemed; Lorna was far more worldly and concealed her knowledge behind a smile - the smile of her mouth only.

Ian was as happy as a puppy - happy to be working with Lorna in such a big organisation - loving the gossip, the drinks after work, the friendly malice of the older men, the envy in their eyes.

Watching Ian laughing and joking made her feel like snapping him out of his silliness, but she never said a word, knowing that some things are better unspoken.

Hotel Lift ... London

Early morning and the lift fills up; all of us standing stiffly, eyes buzzing, all of us with not-quite-fully-awake faces. Me - jammed just inside, next to the control panel and pressing the buttons as called out - with the inevitable humorous confusion the hard-of-hearing seem to cause.

Family bunched together - dad resting hands on small boy’s shoulders - tall, early teen daughter, eyes closed, mortified with embarrassment, chin quivering with sheer self-consciousness. Hating being with mum and dad and spoilt-brat brother. Hating the shared room, her dad’s cheerfulness, her own free fall between childhood and the future - but hating most of all the cluster of spots around her mouth. The only possible response is to close her eyes and shut it all out.

But the really great figure in this little drama is the mother. She’s facing the girl and looking slightly up at her - looking at her with the most searching, sympathetic and loving expression. She isn’t the slightest concerned about all these strangers pressed around them; she is lost in the rapturous view of her miraculous and beautiful daughter.

Everything was said better by the ancients. Show me any modern author who can match this ....

‘This was Argos, trained as a puppy by Odysseus, but never taken on a hunt before his master sailed for Troy. The young men, afterward, hunted wild goats with him, and hare, and deer, but he had grown old in his master’s absence. Treated as rubbish now, he lay at last upon a mass of dung before the gates – manure of mules and cows, piled there until fieldhands could spread it on the king’s estate. Abandoned there, and half destroyed with flies, old Argos lay. But when he knew he heard Odysseus’ voice nearby, he did his best to wag his tail, nose down, with flattened ears, having no strength to move nearer his master. And man looked away, wiping the tears from his face.

Early Sunday morning ... 1965

Noises. Morning noises of someone moving about downstairs. Lying in bed and waking up slowly. Drank a lot but no hangover - throat a bit sore with all that shouting over the music.

And who is the girl in bed with him? A single sheet showing her shape. She has her back to him; short dark hair tapering to a point at the nape of her neck and then the whiteness of her bare back. Gently he cups her shoulder and she turns to face him, smiling. It was an awkward moment - two strangers in bed together, wide-eyed, confused.

‘Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?’ - he asked.

‘You mean ... like shake hands?’

‘I honestly don’t remember much about last night.’

‘You don’t remember?’ She put her face closer.

‘Well - just a bit.’

She slid her hand under the sheet - ‘so - you need reminding.’

Morning noises faded. The car that won’t start - next-door’s dog barking - someone running water in the kitchen - someone in the bathroom, coughing panting and moaning.

Boris W.

I must be one of the last people to be issued with a letter of introduction. This quaint practice of the European bourgeoisie - and American too for all I know - where a person about to visit another country is given letters of introduction addressed to people who may be of help to him. So there I was, like a figure in 19th century fiction, with an introduction to Boris W. - and what an address - Boulevard Clichy.

Boris had once written poetry which had been praised - unforgivably I hadn’t read any - and he knew the French writers. He had married an older wealthy woman but it wasn’t a good marriage and she divorced him - and harassed him for money; which he didn’t have. Then came the Germans, forcing him into hiding and he spent the entire occupation behind a grill, surviving on food from friends. Afterwards he was a patient in mental hospitals. It took him years to regain stability.

He was polite and friendly. His flat was tiny - it had a high ceiling but it was oppressive. He probably sensed the way I felt - he seemed to twitch and his hands trembled when lighting cigarettes - so he decided to take me to the ‘literary’ cafes.

I wish I remembered more - I wish I’d taken notes. He would have been sent to a death camp; they would have killed him. He was small and gentle and I was upset at the idea of anyone hurting him. I hated the neon lights and the shiny cobblestones - the streets where people had been rounded up - the low-level grill and Boris looking out.

He was rich, but he wasn’t idle rich - in fact he was always rushing about on business. One incident sums him up.

He was managing director of a consultant engineering company and he interviewed several people in various cities. They had to be prepared to move to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia - not everyone’s cup of tea, but the salary was good. One applicant, in London, who came across very well, mentioned that his wife was a landscape designer and Abi said that there was a vacancy for someone to scheme out garden etc on completed projects.

The outcome was that both the man and his wife accepted jobs with Abi’s company. Accommodation was arranged - schools sorted out for their children - the couple sold their house near London and made the move.

Not long afterwards the man asked to see Abi. He was given an appointment in Abi’s office - which you can imagine was spectacular, radiating the wealth and success of only the most prestigious contracts. The man was was pale and near to tears. Abi asked what on earth was wrong. The man, choking, said that he was giving notice of quitting - the two of them would be returning to the UK immediately. His wife had been diagnosed with cancer.

Abi stood up and said - ‘You frightened me! You come into my office looking as if your children were dead! You come in dictating terms to me! This is what will happen. You will not leave your job; you will not go back homeless to England. You will continue in your work and your children will stay in the school in which they are settled. As for your wife - she is going to get the best treatment in the world. Whatever is needed she will get - if she has to go to New York or Chicago so be it, it will be provided. Everything will be looked after. You must not let the world collapse around you. We will look after you.’

... That’s my portrait of Abi.

Coffee Bar ... (1965)

She was sitting at the next table and all he had to do was speak to her! He had been anguishing for a long time - he knew her friends - he had asked about her and learned that she didn’t have a boyfriend - his great moment was once holding a door back for her; her half-smile nearly overbalanced him - when alone he tried hard to recreate her face, but couldn’t - each day was a struggle, would he see her or not?

He was dry mouthed, but he had finished his coffee. Nervousness at screaming point - eyes flickering across her face - she pretending to be unaware. He had to speak to her ... and he did.

Much later he would remember that particular episode. He remembered his white-hot excitement and her astonishing loveliness. But it took him a long time to understand that he would never have made his opening remark had he not seen a very small hole - perhaps damage from a coat-hanger - on the neck of her jumper

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