#a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo

[mythvoiced]

@jeoseungsaja | Here to leave another excerpt of the piece ‘Yeo is a simp’™: Yeo walks beside Shin, a low hum reverberating as he tries to pretend that he hasn’t been looking at his companion all this time by moving his glance elsewhere; toward some flowering shrubs nearby. “Shin,” the fox finally speaks, trying to remain casual, “your hand looks heavy,” and he stretches his arm, putting palm up, offering it at Dokkaebi, “let me hold it for you.” 

---

The biggest problem, perhaps, with being creatures as unique and ancient as the two of them are, is, that the will always inevitably stumble upon situations they’ve heard of, witness from afar, understood to be part of someone’s given, granted universe, that they had never come close to engaging in.

At least in Shin’s case, for there is only so much of his understanding of Wang Yeo he can actually apply to the fox at his side with the shameless arrogance of a lover who thinks nothing new is to be find within the crevices of what is certainly not someone loved, not if so easily discarded along with the thousands of mysteries and blessings they still hide between their fingers.

Shin has seen all sorts of things, he watches TV with the same casual semi-regularity many other of the South Korean population would be able to reference the most iconic of scenes, an inside joke to Come Back Mister, a nod to the surprising and barely satisfying queer representation in Secret Garden.

He’s seen things, he’s heard of songs and listened to some as well. Read of moments like these and butterflies.

But other than coming to the unsurprising conclusion that no amount of casual flirting while extending a polite arm to a shop-owner, no amount of shared smiles with an army official obvious enough to make him wonder for his safety, no amount of whispers into spaces where even a yangban maiden might have heard him, could truly be a match, or even come close to enter the same category of thought, as flirting today, at the side of a powerful, nine-tailed fox.

One who comes equipped with the brazenness of a character rumoured as typical to his species, yet one Shin always wants to apply to him and him only.

There’s no comparison nor contrast, he doesn’t like engaging in the many similarities Wang Yeo too will inevitably share with some soul on this earth or the next. The extending of his arm, the halting of Shin’s already slow steps in response, these are unique to him, and anyone who would have read this pick-up line on a forum and decided to add it to their repertoire, well, they might never find out somewhere out here, Shin is seeing them and thinking of him.

He likes these idle walks.

They seem just perfect to set them up for moments like these.

Other than that, though, or mainly, he enjoys them for the tranquillity they settle his fox’s heart into. The ease to perform as he is and sputter his nonsense, the kind he’d only call that to smooth the wrinkles of being flustered it had pressed into his heart, the kind he’d only call nonsense because he likes teasing and smiling.

Because of that tranquillity, the permission to be just them and maybe nothing more if not everything they were ever meant to be. Settling into the universe’s crevices, finding that silhouette that had been carved out for him to come to rest in, and find that he’d rather sit down next to the freshly dug up soil and wait, wait for that moment, look out to the sky, and consider just a bit more life, if only it would mean getting more of this, more of him.

More of those side-glances and the bad attempts to hide them.

More of the brightness of sun rays as they get tangled in his bright red hairs, coming to rest snug between the soft strands.

That damned smirk of his when he thinks himself on top of the moment, and all the times he’s been right, leaving Shin stunned to the side, wondering if standing there and staring on is what deities envy humans so much for.

He doesn’t consider himself much of a god.

But when Wang Yeo holds his palm up and seems so convinced of his thing, when Wang Yeo breathes out and breaks into a smile, when Wang Yeo stops and exists just a moment a longer where he can dare think they exist together and to be together, then, then he’d take it.

The mantle, the moniker, the title of a god, vengeful in all he’d do for him, and belonging to the Heaven for where else to go after he’d been cleansed by love he doesn’t deserve but will so shamelessly devote himself to anyway.

The envy of a deity, before the beauty of the non-divine.

Luckily, he is not enough god for this to last.

Because there’s no envy in the poet’s admirer of what the word divine was created for.

A chuckle, half an incredulous smile, a minute shake of his head.

There’s half a moment where he looks as if he’s about to turn away. His chin lifts, he stares ahead of himself, is he picking up mannerisms or why does his smile resembles his so much?

Up until it breaks into that flustered nonsense no creature of his might that isn’t him would be caught wearing.

He smacks his palm onto Yeo’s awaiting one and pulls both their hands into the pocket of his coat.

“Seriously, what am I going to do with you.”

#jeoseungsaja #the goblin;kim shin #long post tw #a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo #the length of my life becomes apparent when i realise how much of it we spent apart;verse 4 wang yeo & kim shin #WHY WHY DID-- THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS IF I KEEP HIM UNDER LOCK & KEY FOR TOO LOGN #*LONG -- I GIVE HIM A BIT OF FREEDOM TO SIMP OVER YEO AGAIN AND HE GOES ABSOLUTELY.------- #ALEX MOST ADORED OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS THANK YOU SO FRICKING MUCH FOR THE GREATNESS OF WANG YEO I--!!!!!!!!!! #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YEOSHIN OH GOD the way I am collapsing on the floor I can't write anything for Shin without it turning #into some--- it's like he--- he returns worshipping to the corruption-less idea it once was and i need to go lay down #SORRY I DON'T??? KNOW??? I HOPE THIS IS OKAY AND SORRY THAT IT GOT SO LONG EVEN THOUGH IT WASN'T #A SERIOUS ASK HE JUST??? YEO THE POWER YOU HOLD I SWEAR--- #thank you so much i hope you're having SUCH A FRICKING awesome day i'm!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #hope it makes sense and yesh i ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; I LUV U #god i could go on about this for hours I DIDN'T EVEN SET UP?? THE ENVIRONMENT DANG IT SHIN YOU AND YOUR SIMPING #DOESN'T EVEN LEAVE ANY ROOM TO... WELL... YKNOW.... CREATE A ROOM-- A ROAD-- LISTEN--!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #;queue

[rocorambles]

Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg. 

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter. 

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world. 

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again. 

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in. 

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him. 

A sorcerer. 

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here? 

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind. 

“Who are you?” 

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in. 

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own. 

And that thought festers and grows inside of him. 

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage. 

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies. 

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize. 

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together. 

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.  

 You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left. 

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets. 

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters. 

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together. 

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes. 

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf. 

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down. 

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.” 

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms. 

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook. 

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots. 

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air. 

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls. 

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him. 

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago. 

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.  

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere #haikyuu smut #yandere sakusa #sakusa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: rape #tw: noncon

[the-lady-writes-what]

21. Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa

          Theme: Fox spirits/gods

          Kinks: Threesome, double penetration, biting, marking, praise kink, oral      (receiving), breeding kink (if you squint), polyamory/polyandry

Sorry this is a little late. My brain was like, I know I said I was going to make these short one-shots but how about we make them bigger? 

(The gif has nothing to do with the story, obvi)

Masterlist

You climbed up the many steps leading to the shrine. This was your last resort. The humiliation induced by your vicious ex-boyfriend still left gashes in your heart. Your curse was that you fall in love too quickly and are blind to all faults until it's too late. Your most recent misadventure in love had been so cunning, so cruel that you wasted three years of your life with a man who was, in the words of your best friends, a massive cunt. Manipulative, emotionally abusive, but the cherry on top was the rumor he spread about you having an S.T.D. you'd gotten while cheating on him. Mind you, he was the one with the sexually transmitted disease. You were spared because you hadn't slept with him in recent months. The sting was a deadly blow to your self-confidence and trust in men.

After months of battling depression and anxiety, your aunt suggested a remote village trip and visit this exact shrine. Upon arrival, you were acutely aware of all the women either paired off or visibly pregnant. You noticed this at arrival. It was small at first—a lot of couples paired off, two by two like swans. Then, when you approached the marketplace and asked for directions, you noticed how the shopkeeper was pregnant, along with her sister and sister-in-law. There weren't many single men or single women as far as you could tell. Even a male couple looked happy.

You wanted to burn this town to ashes.

It was insulting, really. You came all this way just to have happiness and love shoved in your face while you, the miserable wretch, were forced to pine. You tried not to scowl as happy couples passed you by. Keeping your eyes focused ahead of you was all you could do to avoid knocking the smiles off their faces. Now, here you were, mounting the steps to a shrine shrouded by pines and red maples. Leaves rustled on the steps, which drew your attention. Fallen leaves littered the stairs and the shrine's sacred grounds, but that seemed awfully unauspicious. Was there no groundskeeper, no shrine maiden, no priest to clear them away? As you reached half-way up the hill, you noticed the smell in the air. Not a bad smell, but it was pervasive all around. The scent invaded your senses. It smelled a lot like jasmine and patchouli. You didn't think much of it and thought it was just someone burning incense at the shrine.

Two masculine figures lounged in the garden. One looked indifferent while the other moped. The latter was blonde; it matched the protruding fox ears on his head and the fluffy, swishing tail patting his thigh. He rested his head on the lap of the former, who appeared much like him except his hair, ears, and tail were black as ink. This one wore an indifferent expression. He looked out into the garden as he made a mental list of all the things he had to do around the shrine. Weeds had encroached where they weren't wanted during the summer and now choked the garden. Fall arrived early this year and made the trees shed their leaves too soon. The steps, as well as the grounds and roof, were covered in maple leaves. The inside needed moping, shining, dusting, and replacing oil lamps. There was still the matter of the hole in the sanctuary's ceiling that needed mending. But was there any human around to do it? No. The last priest died over fifty years ago. Shouta, the black fox, and Hizashi, the blonde fox, had been left alone to answer the whims of pilgrims.

It was almost thankless work. Ensuring happy marriages, love matches, and fertility was hard work when one was forced to clean their own shrine. As long as they were tied to this spot, Hizashi and Shouta had no other choice. The only thing more embarrassing than a shrine-god having to clean up his own shrine was a homeless one.

"I'm starting to miss the old man," said Hizashi. "He was so much fun to drink with. At least he had a sense of humor. Unlike the other fuddy-duddies, they tried to send us."

A few months after the last priest's death, his congregation tried to settle another to take his place. The successor was stern and took his job too seriously for Hizashi's liking. 'He's too dull,' Hizashi used to complain. Shouta wasn't much of a fan either, but it was more due to Hizashi's constant sighs and complaints that drove him to chase the priest away. Shouta ensured that no other settled down for too long. As far as the pair was concerned, the priest who died fifty years ago was their last worthy priest.

"It's so boring and lonely up here. There's no one to play with," Hizashi complained.

Shouta rolled his eyes. Hizashi was in one of his moods again. Boredom took a toll more on him than his 'co-worker' and sometimes lover. It was easy to get bored of making love for fifty-odd years while still working a thankless job. Only occasionally did some old lady or grateful newlywed came to offer incense and drop a donation. Whenever there was money, even a scrap, either Shouta or Hizashi would venture down the hill to mingle with the humans for a little bit. Men or women often flirted with them, but they couldn't decide on a partner they could both enjoy. Instead, everyone was declined.

"Maybe we could call up Nemuri and see what she's up to?" Hizashi suggested.

Shouta gave a flat answer. "No."

Hizashi pouted and went back to his pouting.

"You're no fun," said Hizashi.

"I know." Shouta petted Hizashi's ears to placate him.

Suddenly, a shudder rippled through both of them. They looked at one another. A smile quickly spread across Hizashi's face.

"We have a visitor!" He jumped up at once and dusted himself off.

"We have visitors all the time," said Shouta, but this was a lie. Visitors became fewer after the summer once pilgrims got their desire.

"But did you feel that, Shouta? A poor, miserable, broken-hearted young woman just crossed the path of our statues, and she's heading this way. Don't you feel it? Oh, the poor dear?"

The shrine-gods knew the hearts of all those who entered. It was their specialty to work in all the matters of the heart and the bedroom. Sniffing out broken hearts was a talent they both shared, but Hizashi was the more sensitive one. A fractured heart held an aura that most humans couldn't detect by sensing it alone. Sometimes it was a trifling matter. This time, however, Hizashi felt far more significant pain. Betrayal called out to him like a widow. He hadn't even seen the woman's face but could smell her despair, hate, and ache from miles away. She needed help.

Shouta felt it too. He pitied the human and wondered what brought her to that state. His curiosity was peaked, which didn't happen very often, if at all. Her presence was a sad one, and it threatened to taint the whole shrine with her negativity. Negativity drew hungry ghosts and pesky imps like moths to a flame. All of that meant more work for him. Aside from wanting to protect what little dignity his shrine had left, it was his duty to help this miserable wretch.

"Can we introduce ourselves, Shouta?" Hizashi's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief, hope, and something else Shouta could not easily define.

Shouta weighed the pros and cons in his head. By the time he came to a decision, he could hear the woman walking into the courtyard. Her voice was carried on the autumn wind. She was curious too, likely wondering why a shrine was seemingly left abandoned and in disarray. It would be rude to let her go forlorn after a trek up the hill.

You passed under the second torii gates and a second pair of fox statues. There were no lion-dogs as you saw in most other shrines, but this one had a strong love for foxes apparently. You looked at the water in the pavilion used for ceremonial purification. You cringed at the slightly brackish water and used very little to purify your hands. As soon as you got to the nearest restroom, you were going to scrub your hands raw. Walking down the narrow path leading to the inner sanctuary, you kept noticing very odd things. The shrine was in massive disrepair with cracks, debris, and brackish water. It wasn't a complete eyesore, but something did not feel right. There was not a soul you could find; loneliness pervaded every inch of the place. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked on. You found the spot where wishers and pilgrims wrote their prayers on wooden plaques to hang them up. While there were plenty of rustling in the wind, they weren't very many. You scrawled your desire for a loving partner, happiness, and to forget the man who wounded you so deeply.

You hung the plaque alongside the three dozen blowing in the wind. You went further ahead to pay your respect at the small public shrines built on the side of the shrine's complex. There were only two buildings. One foot across, seven feet long, and six feet tall, they were impressively big for small shrines. These were the only buildings uncovered by leaves and pines branches. You marveled briefly at their pristine appearance. In your bag, you brought along the incense your aunt prescribed. You retrieved two sticks of carnation incense and dipped the stick end in the bowl of sand. You lit the incense, clapped your hands twice, and said a prayer. You did this twice at both shrines.

You turned your back to face going all the way down the hill again when you spotted something at the corner of your eye. At first, it seemed like your mind was playing tricks on you. Out of the corner, you thought you saw a ball of glowing blue light flicker in the window of the main shrine. The main shrine was off to limits to everyone but the priests and shrine maidens. This was where the kami, the god, was housed and worshipped by the clergy. You turned to see if what you saw had really been there. Another flash of blue flickered in the window and then another. You swallowed hard, but curiosity pinched at you. You wanted to know. With a quick glance around, you wandered over to the main shrine.

You cut over the grass and walked into the oratory. There were no voices or footsteps other than your own. You called out to anyone who would be listening, yet no one answer was given. Your voice carried down the halls. However, just because no one answered, it didn't exclude the idea altogether that no one listened. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you drew closer to what you assumed was the forbidden connecting hall that led into the inner sanctuary, which was supposed to be off-limits to the public. As far as you could tell, no one was around to stop you or tell you no.

You took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. Your heart pounded inside your chest. The halls were so dark you had to grope around just to find a wall. You tried to turn around and head out only to get yourself more lost. It was as if you were stuck in a maze. Every direction looked the same, and turning around seemed to make matters worse.

In desperation, you called out, "Hello?"

Still no answer. You trekked further in the hopes of running into someone, anyone, and get them to show you the way out. You hoped that they had a flashlight on hand. You would barely make out your hand in front of your face if you held it up.

Another flash of blue had you whirling on your face. You whipped your head in that direction. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt a pair of eyes bore a hole into the back of your head. It didn't feel like something glaring at you, but the sensation frightened you nevertheless. You took off in the direction of the blue flash. Yet another appeared up ahead, further along than the previous. You started running after it. More appeared, and each grew more distinct in shape and color than the last. You managed to get close enough to hear the hiss and flicker of its fire. You stared at a ball of blue flames with its tongue licking the air. It disappeared into nothingness and reappear off in a different direction.

You found it hovering in front of a set of shoji doors. It disappeared once more. Lights flickered behind the rice paper. You pried your fingers against the seams and pushed the door open. Lamps lined the walls. They burned with pale blue and white flames behind their screens. You approached with caution and gripped your bag straps tight.

Wooden floors creaked beneath your feet. You mentally cursed yourself for dragging your shoes inside the holy place, but the longer you glanced around the room, the more it seemed that this was not an ordinary shrine. The room had a lower portion accessible by three steps, and a red mat covered much of the space. A shrine rested on the floor on the other side. In each of the four corners was a vase that held carnation flowers. Somehow, all the flowers were in perfect condition and thrived in the forgotten space. You stepped carefully towards the shrine when you felt something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Not something, but someone and just a someone but someones. It wasn't the fact that you finally met another person at the shrine or that they were men that gave you alarm. It was the ears sticking out on top of their heads, the tails swishing back and forth behind them, and the regal manner in which they bore themselves. The one in a black yukata folded his arms across his chest and looked quite serious, probably because you were trespassing. The other man wore a red yukata, but he appeared far more friendly than his companion. He smiled broadly at you as if you hadn't just broken one of the most sacred, unspoken rules about behavior at a shrine. You swallowed hard and bowed from the waist.

"I am so sorry for intruding, sirs. I-I didn't mean to intrude…I got lost and couldn't find my way out. I'll leave immediately if you just show me the way. I promise I'll never come back and disturb another shrine so long as I live!"

"Easy there, little sparrow. No need to get riled up," said the friendlier one.

Slowly, you raised yourself up. You looked at them again, still bewildered by their ears and tail. They were either the strangest priests you were likely to ever come across, or they were—

"What business do you have here?" Asked the more somber fellow.

"I-I" You choked on your words. "I had a boyfriend who did rotten things to me. I was hoping to, to, um, to…" Your voice trailed off.

You were too distracted by the fox ears on their heads. They looked too real to be fake, but how was that possible?

The blonde one snapped his fingers.

"My eyes are down here, love," he chuckled.

Your cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Please, if you could just tell me how to get out of here, I'll leave you alone."

Your first instinct would be to bolt for the door. When you glanced behind them, the doors had been shut when you remember having left them open. Were these demons standing in front of you? Is that why the shrine seemed so empty?

"Leaving so soon? But you haven't even heard our proposal yet?" Said the blonde.

Your brows furrowed. "P-Proposal?"

The black-haired fox-eared man slipped something out of his yukata sleeve. It was your wood plaque you left hanging outside. His ebony eyes gleaned over your wish and read it aloud.

"I don't know who will answer this, but I want to find true love, a life partner who will never stick a knife in me and twist. A man, or frankly anyone who will love and care for me. Please bring me happiness and make me forget about the man who abused me for three years. Is this your wish, Y/N?"

Your face drained of color. "How do you know my name?"

"We have our methods. I'm Hizashi. The dour one is Shouta. It's lovely to meet you."

"W-what are you?" You ventured to ask.

"We're the shrine gods. It's been lonely up here for a while now. The priests haven't been to our liking for the last fifty years, so we're forced to take care of the place ourselves, which is rather insulting if you think about it," said Hizashi.

"And…what are you the gods of?"

"Love, fertility, happy marriages, love-matches, all that fun stuff," answered Hizashi.

"Are you the reason why every other woman I met in town is pregnant?"

Hizashi answered, "Of course. We've been blessing this region with successful pregnancies for centuries. There hasn't been but a handful of miscarriages in all these years thanks to us."

"We're not the cause of the pregnancies if that's what that face is for, Y/N. We just ensure that the infant comes to term and reduce sterility in men and women," said Shouta, who had apparently been studying your face very closely.

Your blush darkened.

"Otherwise, this town would be full of half-fox spirits roaming around, wouldn't it?" Hizashi laughed.

"Okay…" You thought for a moment about what you were going to say next. This was all too surreal, but this was better than feeling miserable. "But what do you want from me?"

Hizashi and Shouta exchanged looks. A soft smile crept upon Shouta's face.

"We'll grant you your wish. On a few conditions," Shouta began. "As you can tell, our shrine is in dire need of—what do you humans call it nowadays? T.L.C.?"

"Tender love and care?" You said.

"Yes. That. Our shrine has been in disrepair for some time, but as much as the villagers enjoy making offerings, they aren't too keen on cleaning it. As you can imagine, it's rather embarrassing cleaning up your own shrine," Shouta continued.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll get me a decent boyfriend if I clean your house?"

"We can do better than, little sparrow," said Hizashi.

You felt his eyes wander your body. You couldn't help but shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, you couldn't tell at this point. You might have been hallucinating for all you knew.

"How would you like to be the wife of a god?" Hizashi laughed again. "Or two?"

"W-Wife? I just wanted a boyfriend who loved me. I don't remember asking for polyandry. Besides, why would you tie yourselves to someone human and mortal."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," said Hizashi.

"What do you say? Help us repair the shrine, and you'll have something better than a boyfriend. It sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" Asked Shouta.

"Yeah," you said incredulously. "A little too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"You would have to live here and 'maintain' the shrine's cleanliness and reputation. We could get someone to teach you to perform the kagura dance. Learn a few things that would make you useful around the shrine and to the villagers. A shrine maiden, for all intents and purposes."

That did even things out. You weren't tied to your apartment, especially since it still had the ghosts of your past boyfriends lingering in there. You didn't go to college, and you hated your job. Becoming basically a shrine maiden and marry a pair of fox-gods seemed like a step-up from your hum-drum life.

"Hypothetically, if I agreed to all that, how would we go about making it official? Are we to have a big wedding? Does Ōkuninushi* have to be involved? Is there supposed to be a ceremony we have to follow?" The questions tumbled out of your mouth one by one in your unusual state of mind.

"So many questions. To answer all of them in one go, here it is. All you have to do is enjoy yourself," said Hizashi.

Before you could ask what he meant, Hizashi closed the gap between you. His mouth was suddenly on yours, and his hands settled on your backpack's straps. Your load was unburdened by your shoulders. Hizashi's hands ran through your hair, holding your head hostage. You heard Shouta's footsteps come along beside you. He worked your shoes off your feet and your socks as well. When he arose, Shouta's hands found your waist. He snatched your head away from Hizashi to kiss you himself. From there on out, it was a frenzy of hands, mouths, and tongues teasing you.

The first thing to go was clothes. Hizashi and Shouta worked together to get rid of the annoying layers that kept them from feeling up more of your skin. Your autumn outfit suited the chilly weather outside but was ill-fitted for their current needs. Their hands peeled off each layer of clothing until you wore nothing but your bra and panties. Somewhere between removing each item of clothing, one of them summoned an extra-large tatami mat out of thin air. You landed softly on the sleeping mat, cradled between them. Their kimonos were disposed of in the same manner as your modern clothes, with one exception. They were both utterly naked underneath their yukatas. Your blush spread down to the top of your chest at the mere sight of their hardening members.

"You look so pretty blushing like that, Y/N," said Hizashi.

He took his place between your legs. Hizashi playfully snapped the hem of your panties. He seemed to enjoy your small yelp as the elastic snapped against your skin. Shouta sat on his knees and pulled your back flush against his chest. He unclipped your bra and tossed it aside. Hizashi pulled at your underwear until the fabric tore. You opened your mouth in protest, but all the words stopped in your throat to make room for the moan. Shouta palmed your breasts and tweaked your nipples into stiff peaks. Your ruined panties were forgotten as soon as Hizashi settled one of your legs over his shoulder, and he ran his long tongue along your slit.

"It's been a while since we've laid with a woman. You'll have to forgive us if we're a bit rusty," said Hizashi.

Hizashi ran his tongue along your slit again and hummed at your taste. His tongue dove between your folds and pinched your clit. Meanwhile, Shouta kept at his administrations to your chest and kissing your shoulders. You arched your back when you felt the tiniest pinprick of sharp teeth graze your skin. Shouta smirked at you and gave you a nice look at the fangs he had. Hizashi had the same situation going on. You could feel his teeth carefully caress your sensitive bits.

"Do you like my teeth, Y/N?" Asked Shouta.

You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Then you're really going to like this." Shouta lowered his head to the spot where your neck met your shoulders.

He bit down, but not hard enough to draw blood. His hands continued to tease you while his mouth and teeth left dozens of love bites all over your neck. Hizashi pulled his head up from between your legs. He watched for a moment how your face twisted in ecstasy as Shouta marked your lovely skin. It didn't take long for the idea to get in his head that he should do the same. Hizashi brought his teeth against your inner thigh and nipped. He repeated the process over and over until both of your legs bore his teeth marks and hickies. You squirmed for them. Heat traveled in two directions, to your head and your lower belly. Hizashi resumed his task of fucking you with his tongue and added two fingers to help him in this endeavor. Soft squelches from you gushing over him was enough to make you never want to leave.

"You're so pliable, and your breasts are breathtaking," Shouta sighed next to your skin. "Are you about to cum, Y/N?"

You bucked your hips to the rhythm of Hizashi eating you out. Slowly, you nodded. Your fingers clutched Hizashi's head, mindful of his ears.

"Then," Shouta whispered the next part in your ear. "Cum."

Hizashi worked faster, pumping and licking your cunt. You grabbed for Shouta as pleasure ripped down your spine. Hizashi and Shouta shoved you face-first down the precipice. Your walls clenched tight around Hizashi's fingers and tongue while your jaws hung open. No one else could make you moan as loud as you did. And likely, nobody else ever will.

When Hizashi came up for air, his mouth and chin were drenched your essence. He leaned up, but instead of kissing you, he planted his lips on Shouta's. In turn, Shouta licked Hizashi's mouth to get a taste of you for himself while he was at. Shouta reached down and played with your clit while making-out with Hizashi briefly. You felt their members stand proudly against your body, and your inner walls clenched at the thought of one or both filling you to the brim.

Shouta and Hizashi kissed one more time. Hizashi peeled you off of Shouta just long enough for the latter to stretch out on his back. You were turned around. Shouta gestured with a 'come-hither' crook of his finger, and you crawled towards him. His hands grabbed your hips, made you straddle him, and pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slippery, wet cunt.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It was child's play holding you up like that with his cock more than ready to impale you.

You nodded your head. Shouta slowly, carefully pulled you down on his cock. It stretched you open again. You sank down on him until you were fully seated. You tried not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. Shouta then grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down. Hizashi was right behind you, fisting his cock. He wasn't as big, but he was just as long. Hizashi placed his other hand on the small of your back. You felt his cock probe the area where Shouta was already preoccupied. Something clicked in your head. Shouta grabbed and clutched your hands. Beads of sweat ran down the side of your face while Hizashi brushed his cuck against your cunt.

"Look at me," said Shouta. "Look at me. You're going to be fine. We'll make you feel so good."

"So very good," Hizashi cooed.

You tightened your grip on Shouta's hands. You stared at his face as Hizashi pushed forward, stuffing you close to the point of damage. You were well-lubed up to take both of them, but in practice, this was your first time having two men fill you at the same time. Inch by careful inch, Hizashi pushed into your cunt. When he was fully seated, he let out a long sigh.

"I can feel both of you against, and it feels so good." Hizashi shuddered.

"Can you move?" Shouta asked Hizashi.

"Give me a minute."

You were given a few minutes reprieve, and in that time, you felt your lower belly swell. You felt them stretch you to impossible measures. Though tears stained your cheeks, you never felt more pleasure. The mixture of both pleasure and pain blurred the lines. It wasn't long before you were being pushed and pulled in either direction, their cocks fucking you deep.

Wet skin slapped against skin. The men you were sandwiched between grunted and moaned your praises at your ability to take them both so deep. There weren't any words you could say with any cohesion. Words became meaningless when being fucked into oblivion. Hizashi and Shouta worked in tandem. When one pulled out, the other plowed right in. Both cocks kissed your cervix as they drove themselves, and each other, wildly into your cunt. You felt fluids rush between your legs that mingled with your sweat. You squeezed Shouta's hands and buried your face in his chest.

Higher, higher, and higher still, you were flying. You bit Shouta's chest as their cocks thrust in and out. Your brain turned into mush at this point. All you cared about was getting fucked on their cocks forever. Little else mattered beyond that.

"I'm close," said Shouta.

"M-Me too," said Hizashi.

"Then let's finish it."

Without another word, they started to drive faster than before, and you thought it was impossible. Shouta returned your bruising grip and rammed upwards to meet Hizashi's downward thrust. They both moved quickly and headed towards coming undone inside you. You felt it too. Your walls spasmed and fluttered around both their cocks, though the stretch made it hard to tell. They shifted into an erratic pace rather than a smooth move. Their cocks drove harder into your cunt. Animalistic grunts filled the room as both Shouta and Hizashi slammed home. You screamed your climax just at the same time they did. You kept screaming while ropes of cum warmed your belly. You were moaning into Shouta's chest as you felt buckets of their seed filled your womb. There was nothing for you to wonder about why they were the gods of fertility and pregnancy.

Hizashi pulled all the out first. He massaged your shoulders while Shouta lifted your hips off him. Hizashi's long fingers dabbed some of the cum dripping down your thighs and pushed it back inside your weeping pussy.

"You gotta keep it in, ya, little sparrow. You want to be a good wife to your husbands, don't you?" Hizashi cooed.

*Ōkuninushi- mentioned in both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki as the god of nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine, love, marriage, and fortune

#kinktober #kinktober week #my hero academia fanfiction #kinktober my hero academia edition #reader fic #hizashi yamada #present mic #presentation michael #present mic x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #erasermic #erasermic x reader #poly #I'm also sorry it's ridiculously long

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Mehmet Murat ildan

A beautiful mind is like a beautiful path! The more you travel with it, the more you find peace and happiness!

A beautiful smile without any reason is the smile of the existence!

A bird without wings and a man without art are both condemned to wander in low places; they can never soar up to those unrivalled heights.

A cat’s New Year dream is mostly a bird! Don’t be like a cat; in New Year, dream something that you have never dreamed! Target for new things!

A good book is a lighthouse; a wise man is a lighthouse; conscience is a lighthouse; compassion is a lighthouse; science is a lighthouse! They all show us the true path! Keep them in your life to remain safe in the rocky and dark waters of life!

A little happy house is the strongest castle in this whole universe!

A long walk in a long beach shortens every kind of sorrow!

A romantic person will know from the bottom of his heart that no source of light can ever replace the mysterious beauty of a candle!

A street full of shadows will teach you what life is much better than the street full of lights!

A waterfall cannot be silent, just as the wisdom! When they speak, the voice of power speaks!

An uneducated society will eventually turn into something lower than a herd of animals!

Are you a stupid sheep in the flock or a free eagle in the sky? Look at the mirror, what are you? Are you some dullish cattle in the herd or a wise owl in the forest? Look at the mirror, what are you?

Autumn is the greatest reminder: It reminds us how dreamlike beauties our earth has and it reminds us how all these beautiful dreams can easily vanish!

Carry your bag by yourself; carry your umbrella by yourself; open your door by yourself; light your own candle! Do your job by yourself! Don’t use others! Don’t behave like a king, don’t behave like a queen! Be humble!

Clouds in the sky very much resembles the thoughts in our minds! Both changes perpetually from one second to another!

Cowards cannot pass beyond the walls or beyond the wire fences! For them, frontiers are always the end of the road!

Disappointment means that things haven’t worked out the way you wanted! And now what to do? Very simple: Stand up and walk! Cut the tragedy because our limited time must always be used for the forward movements!

Don’t follow any leader; don’t obey to anyone; crowds are slaves; take an independent stance; take orders only from your own mind!

Don’t say deep things to shallow people and don’t talk about shallow things with the deep people!

Elephants don’t know anything about the world of ants; the peaks of mountains are oblivious of what is happening on the plains!

Enlarge your windows till you get a window where you can see the whole universe with one look!

Every long separation is a test: A test to see how powerful or how weak the will of reuniting is!

Every morning is a revolution against the darkness!

Every New Year must be celebrated at the heart of nature - in the middle of a forest or by the side of a lake under billions of stars - because it is nature who has made our existence possible!

Every season has its own art and the art of autumn is to bewitch the people!

Every time it rains, the soil counts every drop to know exactly how many times to thank to God!

Farewell is a beautiful and a soft word and yet it is a horrible and a heavy thing too!

Flowers are the Romeos and the Juliets of the nature!

Flowers have the greatest talent in converting an ordinary place into a magical palace!

For a dark street, sunshine is most welcome; for a wounded soul, love is most welcome!

For a new year to bring you something new, make a move, like a butterfly tearing its cocoon! Make a move!

For the cowards, all doors are locked; for the daring, all doors are open!

For the land, the sea is beautiful; for the sea, the land is beautiful!

Forest is a dream where you may find yourself and dream is a forest where you may lose yourself!

Full moon is a good fisherman; every eyes are easily caught in his net!

Genius tries to conquer the world with art, with songs, with words; stupid tries to conquer it with sword, with guns, with arrows!

Give freedom to colours and then you shall meet the rainbow everywhere!

Great artists come and go; they are born and they die; but there is one exception who has been living for thousands of years and still continues creating new works, new beauties every year: The Autumn!

Happiness has only one colour: The Bright! The bright of red, the bright of green, the bright of any colour! Happiness is bright! It shines, it sparkles, it glints!

He who does not walk against the arrows cannot talk about the strength of his shield!

If the storm underestimates your power, nothing happens to him; but if you underestimate the power of the storm, you sink!

If we had known everything in this universe, we would have had to find another universe to feed our curiosity, because what keeps alive man is the curiosity!

If you are good at building bridges, you will never fall into the abyss!

If you are sure of tomorrow, there is no fool greater than you!

If you close your eyes, no lighthouse can help you!

If you do not have the concept of distance, you may reach an unreachable place!

If you feel you have to open a particular door, open it, otherwise all your life that door will haunt your mind!

If you have carefully examined hundred people you met in your life journey, it means that you have read hundred different books! Every person you know is a book; world is full of walking books; some are boring, some are marvellous, some are weak, some are powerful, but they are all useful because they all carry different experiences of different paths!

If you have ever walked in Paris, you will see that Paris will ever walk in your memoires!

If you love yourself first, you will find your Valentine much quicker!

If you move faster than the music, it will look strange; if you move slower than the music, it will look strange! Be like autumn leaves which follow exactly the rhythm of the wind!

If you open your eyes very wide and look around you carefully, you will always see a lighthouse which will lead you to the right path! Just watch around you carefully!

If you see a castle under fog, you must walk there to meet the extraordinary dreams!

In a society where everyman is fox-minded, you need to be foxier than the fox!

In autumn, don’t go to jewelers to see gold; go to the parks!

In deep waters, you encounter only the wise and the brave; in shallow waters, the ignorant and the coward!

In defeat, look at the stars; in victory, look at the ground! From the stars, you get hope; from the ground, you get caution.

In the middle of nowhere, an old wooden bridge is a golden bridge!

Instead of politicians, let the monkeys govern the countries; at least they will steal only the bananas!

Leave city, leave reality; enter forest, enter fantasy!

Let me tell you something big: Give importance to little things!

Let the people discover you! You might have the key of the locked doors in their lives! Open yourself to the world; you might be the magic the world needs!

Let yourself disappear in the darkness; if you are loved, people will come and find you with torches in their hands! Love is a great searcher; it always searches the loved one! To see who really love you, just disappear!

Lighten your life with a simple life!

Magic of the nights is always much impressive than the magic of the days!

Man must be able to think freely and he must be able to express his thoughts freely! He who is against this is not only fascist and primitive but at the same time is a very great coward also! Only the brave and the honourable men are never afraid of freedom of thought and freedom of expression of ideas! Just like the cockroaches do not like the light, evil minds also do not like the freedom of thoughts!

Man must behave like a lighthouse; he must shine day and night for the goodness of everyman.

Max Lucado says that ‘A man who wants to lead the orchestra must turn his back on the crowd.’ That is true and a man who wants to find out the truth must also do the same thing!

New Year’s most glorious light is sweet hope!

No flower is happy in a vase, because vase is nothing but an ornate coffin for the flower.

No king has a throne more beautiful than a bench covered with the autumn leaves!

No matter how right or how beautiful your path is, never try to impose your path on others! Remember that flowers by no means pull bees by force to their world! Your path is your poem; if people like your poem, they will fondly join you in your path!

No season appeals to the eyes as much as autumn; no season touches the souls as powerfully as autumn and no season invites us to the world of mournful thoughts as intensely as autumn!

Not every lake dreams to be an ocean. Blessed are the ones who are happy with whom they are.

Nothing is more mysterious than watching a lonely man who is taking for a night walk in a foggy street!

Photography is an art of teleporting the past into the future.

Pigs are dirty, but I will tell you something dirtier: Liars! Untruth always smells like rotten garbage!

Rain is nature’s art; umbrella is man’s art.

Real love and Sun have something in common; they are so bright that they don't have shadows, they are free of darkness!

Rumi says love turns thorns into flowers. This means that hate turns flowers into thorns!

Searching for the real faces of every face we met! This is what our life is!

Silent streets have many things to say.

Similar souls wander in the similar places! They may not know each other, but often they touch the same winds, they step on the same leaves, their looks are lost in the same horizons!

Simple life and peaceful mind are very close friends!

Smile is a good reply to the dark world.

Some looks are heavier than the thickest books because they carry the saddest stories of life!

Something reduces the speed of the world and that something is stupidity! Stupidity is a boring friction!

Sometimes you must do crazy things to discover the life beyond your life, to enter the unknown zone beyond your known zone!

Strong winds create giant waves; strong wills create giant men!

Sun gives light; torch gives light, candle gives light; smiling gives light.

Sunset is so marvellous that even the sun itself watches it every day in the reflections of the infinite oceans!

Sunset is the opening music of the night.

The best thing you can give to a child is to create an environment where the child can develop an independent mind so that he will be the man of no one and the instrument of no system!

The fate of the bridges is to be lonely; because bridges are to cross not to stay!

The first step to be a good man is this: You must deeply feel the burden of the stones someone else carrying.

The greatest storms on our Earth break not in nature but in our minds!

The Moon always finds an opportunity to turn our attention from the ground beneath our feet to the sky above our head!

The most beautiful springs are those that come after the most horrible winters!

The most beautiful sunset is the one which suddenly appears in front of you while you are walking pensively!

The most precious light is the one that visits you in your darkest hour!

The scent of the morning is prepared by the night; the scent of the night is prepared by the day; everything helps everything!

The trains always arrive at your station. The question is which one to take?

The wisdom of bridges comes from the fact that they know the both sides, they know the both shores!

There is a hidden message in every waterfall. It says, if you are flexible, falling will not hurt you!

There is no real silence for the sensitive ears and there is no real tranquility for the sensitive hearts!

There is nothing more beautiful than living a simple life in this complex universe!

There is so much beauty in autumn and so much wisdom; so much separation and so much sorrow!

There is so much hope in a little flower and so many flowers in a little hope!

Those who mastered in the art of falling have no fear of rising!

To get inspiration, go to the nature; for silence, go to the nature; to question the meaning of life, go to the nature; to feel the existence, go to the nature; to protect your mind, to reach the truth, to think about the universe go to the nature!

To speak with the shadow, you must know the language of the darkness!

To think is sacred; let every person think freely! To express what you think is sacred; let every person express his thought freely! If you do this, you prove that you are a conscientious and a moral human being! If you don’t do this, you just declare yourself being fascist!

Tradition kills originality; you keep repeating the same things in tradition! Behave like the sky; always create new and different things; be original!

Umbrella is comfort, rain is life! You must often leave comfort to touch the life!

Watching the infinite horizons gives you infinite dreams, infinite ideas, infinite paths! Choose a great target and then you will see that great instruments will appear for you to reach that target!

Water is the most perfect traveller because when it travels it becomes the path itself!

We are all on the stairs, my friend; some of us are going down, some us are going up!

We see what we are only through reflection and thus the more our reflections occur, the less our mistakes will be!

What do you need in the New Year? You need a dream; your dream needs an action; and your action needs right thinking! Without right thinking, you can have only unrealised dreams!

What is the name of your dream? A lovely wooden cottage in the middle of a forest? Or walking in an endless autumn path? What is the name of your dream? Don’t give a name, always give a list! Fill yourself with dreams because dream is the path to reality!

What you do when nobody is there is your true you!

When everything looks like a magical oil painting, you know you are in Autumn!

When the moonlight and the waterfall come together, all other things fade from the scene!

When the spirit of nature touches us, our hearts turn into a butterfly!

When the sun is setting, leave whatever you are doing and watch it.

When you are happy, you feel the sunshine even inside the fog; when you are unhappy, you feel the fog even in the sunshine.

When you are on the bright side of life, do not forget the people who are on the dark side and remember that man can easily slip from one side to the other!

When you increase the number of gardens, you increase the number of heavens too!

When you lose your path, you get an opportunity to discover a world you have never known! And better worlds are often found this way! Darkness and uncertainty hide presents in itself!

When you read a book, book also reads you! The book will know who you are from the sentences you underline!

Winter invites white; white invites silence; silence invites peace. You see, there is so much peace in walking on the snow!

Winter is dead; spring is crazy; summer is cheerful and autumn is wise!

Wise man is the rooster of the universe: He awakens the unawake!

Without the stairs of the past, you cannot arrive at the future!

You can never leave a place unless you leave that place in your mind!

You can walk in a dream while you are awake: Just walk in the misty morning of a forest!

You either keep your childhood innocence or you rot!

You need a temple to feel good spiritually? Go to a beautiful garden!

You need new roads to discover new places!

[just-the-mage]

A Return From Dark Waters, Part 1

To preface this piece: it takes place after the end of the Dinner.  Evangeline has been adjusting to Irene, a new personality who has become the foremost personality in the body of Iris.  This won’t be the last one! Several more to come until this section is complete! 

Written by @iris-ymir​ & myself!  

The sound of the hammer rang out through the forge as Evangeline struck at the spikes of the wrought iron gate for one last time. She dropped the hammer onto the table with a resounding thud, and took a look at her craftsmanship. This project had been at least twice the undertaking she had expected it to be. Not only had she needed to acquire the materials, forge the gate itself, and assemble the blasted thing, but she could see now that trying to carry it out to set it into the wall would be a project in its own right. That, though, she would have to handle tomorrow. She was drenched in sweat, smelled to high heavens, and was probably covered in soot, if the appearance of her hands and arms were any indication of the overall state of her body. She pulled a rag from her tool belt, and wiped the sweat from her forehead once again. A glance at the now black cloth was indication enough that there may now be one clean spot on her face, but the rest of it was probably a mess. She removed her heavy blacksmith’s apron, hanging it on one of the wall hooks across from the doorway to the small, comfortable forge. Repeating the process with her tools and her toolbelt, she doused the fire and walked outside, closing the door behind her with a push of her heel and locking it. Sighing with relief, she felt the cool air roll over her, almost immediately eliciting a shiver as the sweat coating her body turned cold. Now was definitely time for a bath.

Evangeline quietly entered Blacksoul Manor through the back way, pushing the door slowly so that it didn’t creak. She reminded herself for the umpteenth time to oil the hinges, or the manor’s residents would wake the whole of Ishgard without realizing it. It was a bit later than she had wanted to finish working...but she at least had finished working. Letting the door fall shut behind her, she looked around for a lantern, a torch...something to help her navigate the now darkened hallways of the manse without disturbing Irene or Arsene. It could very well be that they were in bed at this hour, and waking someone was the last thing she wanted to do tonight. She gave up the search, unable to locate a source of light in the gloom of the mansion’s threshold. Best to proceed carefully, then. She started down the hallway towards the bathroom, eager to rid herself of the grime of a hard day of work, but still trying to stay careful. It wasn’t long, though, before she bumped into something. A slight, waifish figure, a body belonging to a woman she knew all too well at this point. Eva’s arm reached out instinctively, catching the small woman before she had a chance to stumble backwards.

“I’m sorry!” she intoned, trying to look Irene in the eyes as her vision adjusted to the darkness.

“I can hardly see in here...and there wasn’t a lantern by the back door. I was just going for a bath...would you like to join me? I’ve probably gotten some soot on you at this point…” Evangeline scratched the back of her head nervously.

Irene ran her fingertips on the old, well-worn wallpaper. Years ago, it had been bright red, with a well detailed blue pattern running on it. But now? After the years, the bright red had faded like memories, now appearing as dark crimson, like last drops of lifeblood, escaping from the wounds of the dying. The blue details had faded almost completely, and it was impossible to tell how it had once appeared. These walls had seen so much tragedy. Irene could almost hear them crying in the darkness. The tears of those this house had claimed during the years. Countless lives... And more to come. She heard the door opening and closing, and not long after, something bumped onto her in the dark. She felt Evangeline’s touch, as the woman grabbed her by the arm. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, and she could make out the silhouette of a viera, standing in front of her. 

“Who goes there, wearing the cloak of the night? A burglar? Or maybe a cheating husband be thee might?”, Irene snapped her fingers, and a small foxfire appeared over her shoulder, like a small lantern carried by invisible pixies. The faint light was way too small, too weak to illuminate the hallway, but it was enough to cast a small circle around the women. The light danced on Irene’s features. The sickly face of Iris, and black lips, curled up into a playful smile, revealing a line of yellow teeth. In a way, the sight was eerie. 

“...A bath does sound good though, Evangeline. I was just on my way to the kitchen for a midnight snack, but can very well accompany you, maybe wash your back. You... look like a coal miner. Ohh, if you could just see yourself now! Come on now, lets get that grime off your features, before the creatures of the night claim you as their own...” Irene turned around, and floated towards the bathroom door, opened it, and slipped in. Not long after, Eva could hear the sound of running water filling the tub.

Evangeline giggled at Irene’s joke, eyes searching the barely illuminated face of the woman she once loved. The faint glow of the foxfire cast deep shadows on the viera’s gaunt face, revealing her high cheekbones, her sunken eyes...Irene didn’t look healthy. She needed more food...less alcohol, and less cigarettes. In that moment, Evangeline resolved to try and make sure the woman ate properly. Three meals a day if she could manage it. She wasn’t sure how she could deal with the cigarettes...or, in fact, the pills. The night the two of them had gone to the club...Iris had slipped her something. It had made her feel amazing...and she had done a few things she wasn’t particularly proud of. She felt a blush creep to her cheeks at the thought of it, and she tried desperately to wave the thoughts away before they overtook her.

She had to focus...because the morning after she had felt like death. A headache that had lasted all day. Exhaustion. She had barely been able to move her body until past noon. If this was something that Iris did regularly...that was another in a string of unhealthy things the woman was doing to her body. Eva would try to help...for Irene’s sake, if nothing else. With the fox-like woman in charge of the body, it would be easier to take things in a more positive direction...hopefully.

She watched the slight, almost ghostly form of Irene float away from her and slip into the bathroom. Eva shook her head. Still, sometimes...she wondered how in Eorzea she had gotten herself into this mess. At least she had made friends with Irene through all of it. That, at least, was a blessing...in the face of all of the curses she seemed to have placed upon herself the past few months. Hearing the sound of water, she trotted after Irene, opening the door to see the other woman disrobing. Literally, as it happened.

She dropped the robe she had been wearing to the floor, revealing pale skin covering the slender frame of Irene. Evangeline watched the robe fall into a pile, a snake made of fabric, coiling onto the floor. The light caught her shoulder blades, of all things, as she turned to step into the bathtub. The woman was barely visible...but in the now flickering light of the foxfire, she seemed almost transparent. A spectre. Beautiful, and terrible, one who would come to you in the night to drain you of your soul in exchange for a few moments of divine pleasure. Eva smirked at the thought, and removed her clothes, marveling at how dirty she was. The water in the tub would be black by the time she was done...she could see the divide, the place where her shirt sleeves had covered her forearms, the neckline of her shirt...even in low light, she could tell the difference.

“Perhaps we could grab that snack after we’re done in the bath? There isn’t anything wrong with a little extra food to help us drift off to sleep, in my mind.” Eva smiled softly at Irene. She honestly didn’t know how she could go back to sleeping alone, after spending her nights with the woman. She had never felt so comfortable or so safe next to anyone...and after four nights without nightmares, she was hooked. Evangeline didn’t know how things would work out after Silke got back...or after Iris got back. If Iris came back. But she didn’t think anything made her happier than feeling sleep take her while she was wrapped in Irene’s embrace.

Eva lowered herself into the bathtub, feeling the water envelop her aching muscles. It was indescribable how good it felt...the water was steaming hot, and she could feel it pulling the grime off of her already. The scent of hibiscus lingered in the air...Irene must have dropped a bath bomb in right after she had started the water running. Evangeline gazed across the tub at the spectre floating passively in the water, watching the reflection of the foxfire dance in Irene’s violet eyes.

“I’m sorry today has been a bit busy for me...how have you been?”

“No need to feel sorry, Angel. You are taking the correct step. Stepping away from the future painted with blood. A step into the blessed moonlight. And with the father of murder away on his ride... it's a perfect time to prove your worth to him. Am I not right, Angel?” Irene stood up in the pool, water running down her lithe form, as the faint glow of foxfire danced on her pale white skin. Her deep black hair ran down on her shoulders and chest, like a thick spider’s web, now that Evangeline had brushed it clear of all the tangles it had before. With a smile lingering on her lips, Irene made her way to the lantern, hanging on the wall above the tub. She opened the lid, and lit the heart with the foxfire, before snapping her fingers, making the dancing flame disappear. She leaned back onto the wall, next to the lantern, fixing her dead eyes on the dark-skinned viera, sitting on the opposite end of the pool. Evangeline’s body had something very poetic to it. The beautifully dark skin, together with well built warrior’s physique and hair, made of a wildfire, made the woman look like a goddess of war. “I... have been...”, Irene took a deep breath, her eyes wandering from Evangeline to the water around the woman. Black water. Deep black, slowly spreading into the tub. The soot. “...Just... w-wandering around the m-manor... Helping... the ferryman...”, pale viera shook her head, her dead eyes turning in sockets, and without warning, she fell forward, face first into the pool. Iris opened her eyes, beneath the waves of the black sea. The shock made her gasp, breathing in water. She felt she was drowning again. Losing herself. She had died once, twice... and now she was back again. It was like some twisted game for a sadistic god.

While feeling the dread washing over her, Iris kicked the water hard, as a last attempt to get to the surface. The final plea of a forsaken woman. But to her own surprise, she broke the surface almost right after. Her legs still touched the bottom, and water only reached up to her hips. The pale viera stooped down, coughing hard, trying to get the water out. The first thing that came out was just some saliva, then a blurt of dark water... she felt her stomach turning upside down, and unable to keep it in, she threw up. A mess of dark and bloody red, splashing into the bathwater. After everything had come out, holding her chest spasmodically, Iris blinked, looking around. “Whe.. Where..?”, she coughed hard, and her eyes catched the form of Evangeline, now standing up in the pool, in front of her. “...F-Fockin’ ‘ell... Evangelin’! Wh...”, another burst of heavy coughing broke out, forcing Iris to curl up, the black locks of hair, running down on her face like seaweed.

“IRENE!” Evangeline screamed, watching in horror as her friend fell face-first into the bathtub, seemingly catatonic. Eva threw herself forward, too late to catch the falling woman, desperately trying to get a grip on Irene to turn her over and let her breathe. Dark waters splashed around her, flying from the bathtub, the serene picture of a calming evening soak shattered into a million tiny water droplets. Just as Eva had managed to start to pull Irene up, the pale viera surged upwards, coughing and sputtering, as if she were being pulled forth from primordial ooze, tendrils of black hair whipping the air as she gasped for breath. Irene vomited, more black bile, blood...the dark bathwater was tinted further, this time with a swirl of crimson. Evangeline moved to comfort Irene, to ask her what had happened, take the thin frame of her friend in her arms, when she heard it.

“...F-Fockin’ ‘ell...Evangelin’! Wh…” Eva would have known that voice anywhere. She should have realized...realized that her joy would come to an end. Sooner or later, this was going to happen. Iris wasn’t gone...she never had been. Just buried. Lurking. Waiting for the time she would come back and tear Evangeline’s...friend? More-than-friend? Straight from her arms. A chill set throughout Eva’s body, as one thought became clear and present in her mind. Sharp like a knife, it cut through to her core, slicing her bones apart.

What if this was the last time she saw Irene?

What if...what if this woman she had grown to know...to cherish...was a one-time deal? What if Iris resurfacing fully would expel Irene from the body...for good? She felt cold. Alone. Again. And Iris being back made it worse...so much worse. The woman who had broken her heart, torn her to shreds, played with her like it was a game...here she was. In the flesh, so to speak. Evangeline had thought for days about what she might say...what she might do when Iris came back. It had changed every day. Sometimes she was angry...sometimes resentful...sometimes she could feel herself wrapping back around Iris’ finger like ivy, reaching fruitlessly for something that could never be hers. All of her thought, though...all of her preparation went directly out of the window when she saw Iris in front of her. She was so utterly different from Irene that it was palpable. The way she stood, her eyes, her face...everything was completely changed. It was still...surprising.

“How could you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And Evangeline felt it leave her mouth unbidden.

“How could you do this to...to…” Eva wanted to say ‘me.’ She wanted more than anything to say ‘me.’ She wanted to be selfish, hateful, and angry, to yell and scream...and so she did.

“Me. How could you do this to me. I did everything you asked. I tried to be what you wanted. I tried to tiptoe around your boundaries and I made sure all of the eggshells were intact after I walked over them near you. All the while you were in love. And instead of having the common decency to tell me how desperately you wanted this woman you tried to USE ME to get back at her? To what, make her mad? Jealous? How fucking dare you.” She sneered, her arms crossed. She shook for a moment, almost imperceptibly, gritting her teeth, her eyes locked on Iris. She shook her head to try to calm herself.

“I am hardly blameless in this scenario.” She continued quietly. “I threw myself at you like an idiot. I pushed when I shouldn’t have. But seven HELLS. I can’t even begin...to think...of how upset I am. I’m going to...to…” Evangeline trailed off as she turned to step from the bathtub, finally realizing that she would probably need another bath to get this bathwater off of her. She trailed off, in fact, because she looked at the bathwater. Really, truly looked at it. Swirling in those dark waters were images she had thought were contained to her mind...images that, blessedly, she had been free of for the past few days. It made it all the more brutal for her to see them again now. She felt her throat close up as she locked her eyes on the water, the hellish divination pool she was unable to look away from.

The rippling images depicted everything she wanted to forget. Bloody battlefields...heads on spikes...shattered bodies of her comrades. But what was truly unavoidable was the one moment she had hoped to forget most...and it played again in front of her.

“Get her armor off. I don’t want to bruise my fists.” A broad shouldered Garlean man gazed down at her, grinning maliciously. She couldn’t move. Her muscles tensed up, tightening as they always did, freezing her in place as she felt herself be dragged up from the ground, the men surrounding her unstrapping her armor so that she could be beaten more efficiently. Two of them held her, an arm for each of them, as the broad man approached her, and immediately sunk his fist into her cheek, almost breaking her cheekbone on the spot.

“This bitch killed three of my men. Teach...her...a lesson.”

Another kicked her, jamming their foot into her side near her kidneys. Punch, kick, punch, kick. The blows came steadily, never wavering in their strength. All the while she could feel the two that held her arms start to pull at them, wrenching and twisting, as if they were trying to pull her in two. The beating continued, even as her left shoulder let off a loud ‘pop’ and dislocated, causing her to scream in agony. No sound came out, though. She was frozen. Unmoving. Just like every morning. She took in a sharp breath as her body realized she needed air, and she immediately started to hyperventilate, breathing faster and faster, unable to control herself. She waited...waited for help. Like every morning. No help came, though. No guardian angel...no squad of friendly troops. Just more pain. The men had started to change...grow more hideous. They resembled beasts now. Eyes aglow with fury, sharp claws and horrible faces. They screamed with rage...delight...and hunger. And she stood there, stock still, as they tore her apart. Rending her flesh, eviscerating her, and last...but not least...pulling her limbs from her body.

She could move again. But just barely. This had been worse...it had felt more real than the dreams usually did. Evangeline felt the tears pour down her face, but was unable to even wipe them away. All she could do is curl up in a ball, sitting down in the black bathwater, and shake uncontrollably, clutching at herself as she watched her horrible, gruesome death play out again...and again...and again.

Iris spat into the water, trying to get the horrendous taste out of her mouth, but it was no use. The metallic, bitter... rotten aftertaste lingered on her tongue, sticking to it. She took a step to the shower stand at the corner of the pool, and turned it on, letting the clean, warm water wash her face, while taking a drink. She could not get rid of the taste completely, but it faded away some, making it somewhat bearable, if nothing else. While listening to Evangeline, going on and on about how Iris, once again, was a horrible person, pale viera turned off the shower, and dipped her arm into the weird dark mess, that was the bathwater, pulling the plug on the bottom, so the grime would drain away. She needed a bath so badly, but listening to a silly girl going on and on with her monologue, the grime filling the pool right now could not drain fast enough. What the hell was Evangeline on about anyway? Iris had just... literally returned from the death! The situation reminded her of the first time she had arrived at Blacksoul Manor. She had made a miraculous recovery. She had already paid for the ferryman, yet she tore herself free, diving into the river of the Underworld, and fought herself back to the realm of the living. And what was waiting for her? No smiles, happy tears, or blankets wrapped onto her shoulders... No beautiful dance-girls curling up onto her sides. No. Just cold hands of Varg Blacksoul, long nights strapped onto bed, and a nightsoil pot to shite into. And now this? This was like a fucking homage to the last round. But instead of Varg, now she had Evangeline. 

“How c-could y-y-ya do d-dis to mi...”, Iris imitated the woman’s words while walking onto her side, about to get out of the bath. She needed a cigarette, and she needed it badly. Her head was pounding, loud enough to make her ears ring.

“Yer right, buttpluck... Ya threw yerself at mi... Like a fockin’ puppy, humpin’ mi leg! Did we not ‘ave a deal? ‘Ow is it mi fault, if ya fail to understand dat in tha little ‘ead of yers? Whut the ‘ell did ya expect? For us to frickin’ live ‘appily ever after? Gimme a break... Now wash yer heckin’ cadaver, and leave mi to get rid of dis fockin’ smell of an open grave...” What Iris was about to say got drained down with the black water, as Evangeline suddenly collapsed into the pool. A drained out sigh escaped through Iris’ yellow teeth, as she eyed the sight in front of her. Of course Evangeline was crying. It was all the woman could do. Pale viera was about to step out of the pool, leaving the woman alone with her misery, as she noticed Eva shaking like a dead leaf in the winter storm, right before it gets torn off of the branch. A panic attack? A sick scene? Either way, this was not normal. 

Something has to change... 

Silke’s words from somewhere behind a veil echoed in Iris’ mind. Had it even really happened? It felt like a fever dream. But the dream-Silke had been right. Something had to change. Or she would lose her star in the night sky forever. And that? That would be worse than death. Pale viera sat down next to the woman, wrapping an arm softly onto Eva’s well-toned shoulders. She could feel the woman’s whole form, shaking against her side.

“Evangelin’... Cinnabun, whut’s wrong? Eva? Heckin’ breath wid mi gal, okai?” Iris took a deep breath, holding it for a second, and exhaled slowly. She repeated the process couple of times, while holding the woman gently, making sure to not make her feel trapped. “...Just... focus on frickin’ breathin’, ‘aight? Yer doin’ good.. Keep goin’...” She kept breathing with Evangeline, while the black water was slowly drained out of the pool below.

As she was torn apart for the fifth time, Evangeline heard something. It was faint...but it was different. She felt something...something that wasn’t, for the first time in what had felt like years, claws rending her flesh.

-ocus...breathin’...doin’ good… 

Something lay gently on her shoulder...and something else wrapped around her chest. She looked at it...to find...something familiar. A ghostly...pale...arm. Thin almost to the point of being bony. She recognized this arm...recognized it well enough to be able to follow it. The arm didn’t dissipate into nothing when it stopped touching her body. It...belonged to someone. Someone who was sitting right next to her...breathing with her. She felt her breath slow...and calm...as the arms around her anchored her back to reality. The image in the pool...the image in her mind started to fade. She could barely feel the monsters gut her this time. She looked up...and two violet eyes pierced the illusion, shattering it into nothing. She sat...now covered in filth again...looking into the face of a viera woman she recognized. Gaunt, and almost hauntingly beautiful. She tried to grasp the name...and caught one from thin air. 

“Ir...ir...Iris…? A-are you...you….Iris? I-Irene?” Evangeline’s breaths came ragged to her as she stared at the face. The world slowly came into focus again around her, and she realized she was in a bathtub. Realized she was still shaking uncontrollably.

“Wh...where...where am I….?” she said, her voice trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm. “W-will the...the men be back…? I...w-was in the d-desert...a...a...arree….are th-they going to k-kill me..again…?”

The name ‘Irene’ made Iris’ breath get stuck into her throat for a moment. Where did Evangeline hear that name? Iris’ had never talked about her mother.. with anyone. Especially not Eva, who she had basically just met. Irene had been a lousy mother... not worth being remembered. She was just about to ask about the name when Evangeline asked if the men would kill her again. Again? A cold shiver ran up on viera’s spine. She had been so sure. So sure she had come back from the death, but this? Had Evangeline died too? Iris had no idea how long she had been floating in the bottomless, hollow sea, but it felt like a couple of summers easily. Maybe more... Then again, if she was dead, what was the headache? The only thing that had ached during the unknown amount of time floating in nothingness was her heart. Now her heart felt rather fine, but the headache was killing her. This was curious. But whatever this was, some part of her was boiling over with joy just seeing the face of Evangeline. For so long, she had been in the deep dark... Not seeing anything, let alone a face of someone she knew. She did something she had never done before... She wrapped both of her arms around a now seemingly calmer Evangeline, and pulled the woman into a tight hug. For some time, she just sat there... enjoying the warmth of the other’s body... And giving the woman as much comfort as she could in a situation like this. “Ya... seem to be in da bathroom o’ manor, Evangelin’... And I dunno about whut men yer babblin’ about, but dere is no-one ‘ere. Just mi.

...If ya died though.. Welcome to da fockin’ afterlife, huneydoll! ‘Onestly though... The thin’s priest keep flappin’ deir lips about... Seem to be rather exaggerated, if ya ask mi... ‘Ave not seen a great ‘alls, nor bright lights. Just a frickin’ head-ache, and mi mouth tastes like sumeone ate cat’s shite wid it...” Iris placed her thumb onto Eva’s cheek, wiping away a flow of tears, and leaving her fingertip black with soot. “...And its Iris! Whut’s dis damn nonsense about Irene though? ...Fockin’ ‘ell... Who ever is in charge o’ dis whole damn afterlife business has frickin’ poor sense of humor.. If I ‘ad to pick a place to spend a damn eternity in.. Dis heckin’ bathroom would not make it to da top o’ da list...”

Evangeline felt cold, thin arms wrap around her, and listened as Iris talked.

“The..t-the...manor? That explains...the lack of sand…” Everything came flooding back at once. The gate she had made, the bath, Irene...oh Irene. Gone. A whisper of a person, who may never be heard again. She watched stoically as the last of the dark water drained from the tub, taking with it her horror, her nightmares...for now. It was late. And she knew soon...sleep would take her, and she would be back in the desert. Full of fear. Reliving the moment that had broken her again. No Irene to lie by her side. Just cold...and alone...in a dark room. What snapped her from her reverie, in fact, was Iris. The sudden realization that Iris’ arms were wrapped around her. Iris held her in a tight hug. The slender frame of the woman she had once loved was pressed flush against her skin, warm to the touch. She slowly, carefully folded her arms around the other woman, returning the hug in kind. She didn’t know what Iris had been through...but it was probably more than enough punishment than she could hope for in this situation.

“I’m sorry...Iris.” She said, her sense of self slowly seeping back into her.

“I’m not dead...and neither are you. I don’t know why I saw...and felt...what I did there. I have nightmares every night. Every night I see the same thing: the group of Garleans who nearly dismembered me in Ul’dah. At the time, I was saved by someone...someone who was special to me.  In the dreams, I live through it again...but with no-one to help me. They tear me to pieces, over and over again, until I wake. I had gotten used to it...but this time it felt a thousand times more real than before.” Eva rocked back and forth slightly, trying not to go back to that place again. Trying not to feel it again.

“What happened between us...is in the past. I can hardly be upset with you...we did have a deal. I shouldn’t have expected what I did.” She looked to the floor of the now-empty bathtub, staring into space.

“Irene i-is..w-was...the n-name of one of your other...selves.” Evangeline’s voice began to tremble again, and the tears that had almost stopped stung at her eyes again.

“S-she was very...k-kind to me...v-very sweet...helped me calm d-down after you disappeared...and even t-tried to help me bring you back…”

Irene was gone. The finality of it hit her...with Iris back, Irene most likely wouldn’t be making any more appearances...if she was even there anymore. Maybe she had been ejected like a wayward spirit...moved on to the afterlife. Or maybe she was buried deep in Iris’ consciousness, never to be seen again. Iris was a dominant person...and if she wanted to be in charge, she probably would be.

“B-but she’s gone now...and I-I’m okay with that...it’s your body. Welcome back.” Eva sobbed. She most definitely wasn’t okay with it. But how could she tell Iris that? How cruel would it be to tell someone who had fought her way back to consciousness that she wasn’t Eva’s first choice? In some ways it was nice to see her...she had missed Iris in an odd sort of way. But she missed Irene already...the constant presence that had comforted her, made her feel like the world wasn’t so cripplingly awful to inhabit...was gone. And she was alone. Again. Evangeline felt as if someone had scooped out her insides with a spoon. And so she sat there, a hollow husk, trying not to squeeze Iris too tight, although she desperately wanted to.

#ffxiv #evangeline cross #writing #rp #mateus rp #iris ymir #the coils of d'espair ; irene #viera #rava viera #veena viera #tw: violence #nightmares #bath #dark waters

[myakkoh]

set me free (and let me be in your arms)

(Read on Ao3 here!)

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His hands are shaking. Dark eyes briefly follows his movements, the loud hum of the lightsaber echoing in his ears as the voice in his head grows louder, grows unbearable easy to bear. Fox knows his duty, knows what he must do, so why can’t he move?

“Traitor,” Fox rasps, the blaster in his hands shaking along with him. Tries to aim, but it hurts and hurts and hurts-

Green illuminates the Jedi’s face, familiar unfamiliar eyes watching him carefully, clouded with an emotion he knows he doesn’t know. The silence is only broken when Kolar speaks, something raw in his voice. “Drop your blaster, Fox. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Traitor, he thinks, and his head hurts and he doesn’t know why. He has gotten his orders, has seen Kolar move towards the Chancellor with his lightsaber ignited, with the intent to kill. Fake, fake, fake, you wouldn’t lie to me, why- “Jedi General Agen Kolar, you have tried to assassinate the Chancellor, but you have failed,” Fox says, the words like ashes on his tongue.

Kolar’s face steels, the grip on the lightsaber tightening. His voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t even stutter when the Jedi takes a step forward. There’s only purpose in his movements. “Fox. Move. Now,” Kolar tells him, a warning in his words. Something throbs in his head, lets him take in a shaky breath, like there’s something wrong here, but there is.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, Agen, help me-

“Fox. Move,” the Jedi repeats, and it sounds like his voice is breaking like the delicate glasses that he’s seen the Senators try to use. But it’s not breaking, but his heart is squeezing tightly and it hurts and all he wants to do is to scream-

“The Republic will be safe from the hands of you Jedi scum,” is all Fox says.

The Chancellor laughs darkly behind him, the man’s words a tangled mess in his ears as he tries to aim towards Kolar’s hearts. A quick death, he promises himself as the Jedi’s eyes narrow towards him. The lightsaber still doesn’t move.

The understanding look Agen gave him when he explained what he’s trapped in, the smirk when Agen dragged him towards him as they jumped down from a building, he remembers, remembers the soft look when they ride up to the Chancellor’s office, the gentle movements of his hands when they saved Fives from his repeating doom-

Fox meets Kolar’s eyes, and softly says, “Die, Jedi scum.”

He fires his blaster. Kolar doesn’t move from his position, but the lightsaber deflects the shot towards the wall, leaves a smouldering black hole of smoke there. The slight tilt of the Jedi’s head makes him want to reach for him stab him. There’s no hesitation as Kolar meets his gaze, doesn’t look away and it takes his breath away.

Agen, please, please, get out, get out of here, I don’t- I can’t-

“Fox.” It’s not a question, just a flat statement of his name as Kolar stares at him. The lightsaber shorts out, as Kolar clips it to his belt and assumes a neutral position. “I won’t harm you.”

“Jedi fool,” the Chancellor hisses from behind him. “He knows what his duty is.”

He knows what his duty is, but his heart hurts and he can’t breathe and all he wants is relief from that. His eyes seem to be blurring, but Fox keeps his blaster aimed towards the traitor, who takes a couple of steps forward. No, he tells himself firmly as he pulls the trigger again. He will not allow the Jedi to lay a hand on the Chancellor.

Kolar moves to the side, but nearly stumbles when the shot hits his shoulder. A grimace tears itself across the Jedi’s face before it’s wiped away and replaced with a look of determination. A hand presses against the wound, and he can see the bright red colour of blood coming away, the way Kolar doesn’t flinch at the sight. A slow blink of dark eyes before Fox aims his blaster again.

Another shot to the same shoulder, but Agen Kolar keeps moving towards him, if not but slower. Panic flares inside of him as his hands continue to shake when he fires again, only to miss Kolar’s arm and hit the wall instead. The wound on the Jedi’s shoulder is slowly bleeding, drips to the floor in a trail of crimson red, but Kolar keeps walking like it doesn’t bother him.

Agen-

“Why won’t you die, traitor?” Fox demands, his voice cracking to his horror, and his head hurts like those words are wrong, but they’re right and the Chancellor is right so why-

“You told me to live,” Kolar answers quietly, with certainty and stops right in front of him. He can’t move, nor can he hear the Chancellor from behind him as he stares at the familiar eyes of Kolar. His breath hitches, stops when the barrel of his blaster hits Kolar’s chest, his hands still shaking.

It’s Kolar’s words that seem to be making his eyes blurring with tears. Fox doesn’t even know why he’s crying. Doesn’t know what to say when- “You can kill me right now.”

“Traitor,” is all Fox can say with a trembling voice as he tries to pull the trigger, but he can’t. Is this a Jedi trick? he wonders as dark eyes seem to peer deep into his soul. If it is, then he wants to run, escape. To get out of it as fast of possible, but the tightening of his chest is easing and he can breathe easier.

A warm hand gently grasps his own hands, while something removes the blaster from the grip of his hands. Fox can see black dotted tattoos swirling across the bridge of Kolar’s nose, up and around his horns, and it steals his breath away again. Red is still dripping from Kolar’s shoulder, but Kolar doesn’t pay any heed to it, only to look down at Fox with a soft look.

A familiar soft look, the same look Agen gave him when they were heading towards the Chancellor’s office. He wants, he wants it to be true, wants it so, so much, Agen, just run-

“Trust me,” Kolar murmurs, bends down to press his forehead against his, and he’s shaking, gasping and-

It’s suddenly clear. His head is suddenly clear.

“A-Agen?” Fox asks, his voice weak, Agen only letting out a grunt of acknowledgement. Order 66, he thinks, feels a claw raking down his spine as he thinks about it. He nearly killed one of his jetii. The realization is one of horror and terror, and that he was ready to kill Agen with no remorse. “You- you have to go and run- the Jedi Council needs to know about this-!”

Agen doesn’t say anything, only tugging Fox to lean against his chest as he stares at the one behind them. The Chancellor wanted him to murder Agen, and- Fives was right, Fives was right that the Chancellor was going to kill him, and it’s horrifying. They’ve all trusted him. How did no one see this? Because the Chancellor has everyone wrapped around his fingers, he realizes with his blood running cold.

One word against them, and he and Agen can be killed.

“Well, I didn’t expect this turnout of events,” Palpatine says coolly, and he can feel Agen tightening his grip on him. Levels his eyes towards the Chancellor and he holds onto Agen’s robes, still shaking. Palpatine’s posture is one of arrogance and certainty, warm blue eyes bleeding into cold yellow ones. “What did you do to him to gain this result, Master Kolar?”

“He trusted me.” A plain and simple statement, a hard truth that only Agen can express this bluntly but- it’s true. Somehow, Fox managed to place his trust in Agen, and it allowed him to be free of the control over him.

Palpatine only sneers, his hands rising to reveal crackles of lightning dancing between fingertips. “Defective, then,” is all the Chancellor says and aims his hands at them. “I will have to kill both of you, then. Such a tragic death for two heroes who tried to prevent the assassination of the Chancellor. A fitting end for both of you indeed.”

Fox sucks in a breath as the lightning heads towards them, as if it’s in slow motion. Turns around swiftly, roughly pushing Agen back away from him as he feels something wrap around him. It makes him scream, the heat in his veins, the excruciating pain that seems to be echoing across every part of his body. Makes his eyes fall tight right after seeing the look of horror that briefly passes Agen’s face.

He feels himself fall, and-

Everything goes dark.

#my writing #star wars #agenfox #commander fox #agen kolar #star wars au #whoops didn’t mean to make so much angst #cliffhanger?

[kylo-v]

All V Poems

William Blake, A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade

O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, 'What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle's hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

William Blake, Proverbs of Hell 

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. 

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. 

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. 

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. 

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow. 

Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. 

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star. 

Eternity is in love with the productions of time. 

The busy bee has no time for sorrow. 

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure. 

All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap. 

Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth. 

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings. 

A dead body, revenges not injuries. 

The most sublime act is to set another before you. 

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. 

Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke. 

Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion. 

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. 

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. 

The nakedness of woman is the work of God. 

Excess of sorrow laughs. 

Excess of joy weeps. 

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man. 

The fox condemns the trap, not himself. 

Joys impregnate. 

Sorrows bring forth. 

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep. 

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship. 

The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod. 

What is now proved was once, only imagin’d. 

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits. 

The cistern contains; the fountain overflows. 

One thought, fills immensity. 

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you. 

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth. 

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow. 

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion. 

Think in the morning. 

Act in the noon. 

Eat in the evening. 

Sleep in the night. 

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you. 

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers. 

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. 

Expect poison from the standing water. 

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. 

Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title! 

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth. 

The weak in courage is strong in cunning. 

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey. 

The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest. 

If others had not been foolish, we should be so. 

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d. 

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head! 

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. 

To create a little flower is the labour of ages. 

Damn, braces: Bless relaxes. 

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest. 

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not! 

Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not! 

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion. 

As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible. 

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white. 

Exuberance is Beauty. 

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. 

Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius. 

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires. 

Where man is not nature is barren. 

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d. 

Enough! or Too much!

William Black, Earth’s Answer

Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine

LOVE and harmony combine

And around our souls entwine,

While thy branches mix with mine

And our roots together join.

Joys upon our branches sit,

       Chirping loud and singing sweet;

Like gentle streams beneath our feet,

Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,

I am clad in flowers fair;

       Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,

And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young;

Sweet I hear her mournful song;

And thy lovely leaves among,

       There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charmed nest he doth lay,

There he sleeps the night away,

There he sports along the day,

And doth among our branches play.

William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”

I have no name

I am but two days old.—

What shall I call thee?

I happy am

Joy is my name,—

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while

Sweet joy befall thee.

William Blake, Poetical Sketches

Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,

Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,

I walk the village round; if at her side

A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,

I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,

That made my love so high and me so low.

O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear

And throw all pity on the burning air;

I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,

And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.

TO THE MUSES.

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow

Or in the chambers of the East,

The chambers of the Sun, that now

From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair

Or the green corners of the earth,

Or the blue regions of the air,

Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,

Beneath the bosom of the sea

Wandering in many a coral grove,

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear

A Skylark wounded in the wing

A Cherubim does cease to sing

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul

The wild deer, wandring here & there

Keeps the Human Soul from Care

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent

It is right it should be so

Man was made for Joy & Woe

And when this we rightly know

Thro the World we safely go

Joy & Woe are woven fine

A Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

Or if protected from on high

Does that whole Nation sell & buy

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

The Questioner who sits so sly

Shall never know how to Reply

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt

Theyd immediately Go out

To be in a Passion you Good may Do

But no Good if a Passion is in you

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate

The Harlots cry from Street to Street

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

Dance before dead Englands Hearse

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to Endless Night

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

#v #dmc5 v #devil may cry 5 v #v devil may cry 5 #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #v devil may cry #poems #poetry #william blake #william blake poems #dmc fandom

[rena-rain]

The Shortcut Home ch. 10

Chatper 9

For the first time in four years, Gabriel Agreste picked up the box that contained his miraculous. He didn’t open it, but closed the portrait in his office and journeyed underground. He found his wife looking exactly the same as she had since she’d fallen asleep. It was only dedicated work and a miracle that kept her alive.

Gabriel placed his palm on the glass, sighing deeply with longing. Remembering her voice was hard these days. He missed the way she’d quirk an eyebrow at him and laugh like she knew something he didn’t. He needed her to be his stubborn, stubborn anchor again.

“Our son is getting married, Emilie.” The words were soft. “He’s having a baby. I wish you could see him now.”

The way her face looked smooth as stone disconcerted him.

“I was ready to give you up. Adrien has come too close to the line of fire too many times. But now I have more reason than ever to bring you back. I swear to you, you’ll meet your grandchild.”

Gabriel gave himself another moment with Emilie. Then he straightened, opened the box, and watched Nooroo flash into existence.

“Master?”

Gabriel fastened the brooch to his shirt. “It is time that you serve me again, Nooroo.”

--

Adrien leapt out of bed and threw on a pair of pants.

“What are you doing?” Marinette sat up.

“I’m going downstairs to make sure Nino and Alya are okay.” He hated how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. It steeled his resolve to tell Marinette who he was. Just not now.

“Adrien,” Marinette pleaded, catching his arm and pulling him back towards her. “Stay with me, please. It’s dangerous out there.”

He looked anguished. “Mari…” Gentle fingers brushed her hair behind her ears. “I want to explain, but now’s a very, very bad time and I have to go. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Just don’t go.”

“Trust me.” Adrien regretfully let go of her face and turned to leave only to be pulled back again. He thought he’d have to keep making his case – which he did not have enough brain power to do just now – but Marinette sealed their lips together and gripped him tight. He kissed her back, trying to reassure her. They pulled away slowly, and as soon as they parted, Adrien’s eyes fluttered open. Hers were still closed, her face desperate.

“I’ll be back,” he breathed. He kissed her forehead then forced himself out of her hold.

--

The room suddenly felt cold with Adrien gone. Marinette opened her mouth and looked around, only to remember that Tikki wasn’t here. She hadn’t felt so helpless since Stoneheart.

The only thing she could do was stop Adrien from doing something stupid. She scrambled out of bed and yanked open the half-closed bedroom door. A bright green flash nearly blinded her in the dark room.

Marinette stared, dumbfounded, as Chat Noir leapt out an open window, his back to her.

--

Alya startled awake at the explosion outside. She kicked away the covers and rushed to her apartment window, where a giant pink and purple cloud of something was quickly engulfed in flame.

She turned to Tikki. “I don’t suppose that was a freak accident.”

The kwami looked worried. “That’s definitely an akuma. It looks like we made this switch not a moment too soon. We need to go!”

“Tikki, spots on!” Tikki spiraled into her earrings and a pink light flashed down her body. Alya pushed open her window, flung out the yoyo, and shot off into the night.

I hope Chat Noir’s already on the way, she thought. She sprinted across the rooftops and halted behind a chimney that was right above the site of the explosion, trying to figure out what was going on. The street looked like it had been bathed in bright, multicolored paint.

“What are we looking at?”

Alya screamed and swung a punch at the voice behind her. Chat Noir, whom she could only see because of his glowing eyes and shiny bell, flipped out of her way before her fist could make contact. “Well that wasn’t very ladylike.”

“You scared me! Make a noise or something next time, you kinda camouflage in these shadows.”

“Cat snuck up on the fox – put that one in the history books.” He leapt up onto the brick chimney and perched there. “So what’s this one’s deal? I haven’t heard any more explosions.”

“I don’t know yet. We need to take a closer look.” They leapt to the ground. The damage was much more brutal up close. Radiating scorch marks littered the street. A car was upturned, on fire, and its windows were broken. The air smelled burnt and toxic.

Most disturbing was the graffiti. An entire mural of screaming and running people were plastered to the buildings, and while it was obviously spray painted, each face looked lifelike.

“Chat Noir, I think these paintings are actual people. Civilians.”

“Looks like we’re on the same page, Ladybird. And I’m guessing somebody had a lighter or a cigarette and set all the aerosol on fire, causing the car to explode.”

“But where did they go?” Alya – Ladybird yoyoed to the top of a lamppost. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she spotted a trail of particularly garish paintjobs amongst the normal Parisian street art. She called down, “They left a trail! Let’s go!”

Whoever this akumatized sucker was, they’d been busy. Chat Noir and Ladybird passed dozens, possibly hundreds of citizens turned into murals. After several minutes, she looked over to her new partner while they ran. “Why do I feel like we’re being lured into a trap?”

Ladybird flew past him when Chat Noir stopped dead in his tracks. She skidded to a halt and backtracked to him. His eyes narrowed. “Probably because it’s a trap. I don’t know how, but I think you’re right.”

“I know it’s been a few years, but Hawk Moth’s puppet used to demand the miraculous by now.”

“And if he’s suddenly come out of hiding, he must be especially desperate for them now.” He jumped onto his baton and extended it up, up, way farther up than was reasonable for any stick to hold him. He extended his arm. “Come up here.”

Ladybird slung the yoyo around his wrist and joined him at his perch. He pointed out the crazy paint trails all over the city that she couldn’t have made out before. It looked like a maze with no solution. “Maybe not a trap. More like a wild goose chase.”

“All the better to ambush us, I bet. So that must mean they have a very high vantage point, too…” Ladybird looked up. “Oh shit. The Eiffel Tower. Drop!”

They fell back to the street and rushed to an alley as far away from any paint as they could.

“I hate it when the akumas play cat and mouse,” Chat Noir complained.

Ladybird flicked his bell. “Good thing I have the cat, then. Let’s find a way to get the mouse down from its house.”

Chat Noir snorted. “That was terrible.”

“You’re really in no place to judge.”

“We need to get to the Tower without being seen, so we should stay on the ground, and avoid as much paint as we can.” A bright pink blast of orange particles beamed from the top of the Eiffel Tower and coated an entire block. “While there are any normal streets left, that is.”

Ladybird was jealous of Chat’s costume because it let him blend in with the dark streets more easily. She felt like a siren in the bright red suit – at lease her Rena Rouge costume, while orange, was soundless and easier to sneak around in. They wound through alleyways, sprinted across boulevards when they had to, and even made a detour through a sewer. By the time they reached their destination half of Paris had been turned neon colors. God knew how many people were now paint.

They almost made it. But the Eiffel Tower, for better or worse, was a major tourist attraction night and day. As such somebody screamed “Is that Ladybug and Chat Noir?!” just before they got up the damn thing. Immediately the excited couple got smushed to the sidewalk with a fountain of blue spray paint.

Ladybird flicked her yoyo to the top. “So much for the element of surprise.”

“At least we got here, didn’t we?” Chat Noir scampered up the side of the tower on all fours, somehow keeping pace with her as she shot up. They touched down onto the railing at the top.

This victim was a young woman, her hair in a messy bun the color of a blank canvas, paint brushes stuck in it like chopsticks or pencils. Her paint-splattered overalls were glowed and had way, way, way, way too many pockets stuffed full of even more paint brushes. Her skin was covered in rainbow rings. She whirled around when Chat Noir cleared his throat, aiming the spray-paint can in her hand.

“What’s with all the evildoing, Graffiti Girl? Get kicked out of art school?”

Ladybird froze, then groaned from deep within her soul. “That one’s just in bad taste!”

“Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

The purple Hawk Moth mask glowed around her eyes, and she demanded, “Hand over your miraculous before the rest of Paris spends eternity as a mural!”

“I bet the akuma’s in that spray can,” Ladybird muttered.

“Summon the Lucky Charm,” Chat whispered back. “I’ll distract her.” He leapt at the akumatized woman and attempted to sweep her with his baton. She jumped over the attack, pulled out two paint brushes, and started trying to stab him.

While they fought, Ladybird looked uncertainly at the yoyo for a moment. Ladybug’s plans were always so ridiculous – how was Alya supposed to live up to the same level of mad genius?

Well, here goes nothing. She flung the yoyo over her head. “Lucky Charm!”

A pair of red and black spotted handcuffs fell into her grasp. “What the fuck?” She looked around furiously, trying to think what Ladybug would do. Graffiti Girl and Chat Noir were still engaged in some vicious hand to hand – or brush-knife to baton – combat. Ladybird suddenly realized that she kept making grabs for Chat’s right hand. The ring. Of course.

The idea was stupid, but hopefully it would work. “Chat Noir! Extend your arm!”

“What?”

“Towards me!”

He clearly thought she was crazy, but he grabbed the baton with his left hand and threw out his right. Ladybird sprinted at a central pillar, jumped onto the side, and launched herself at her partner. As expected, Graffiti Girl had snatched Chat Noir’s hand and tried to simultaneously put him in an arm lock and take off his miraculous. Ladybird slapped the woman’s wrist with one cuff, slid to the side so she twisted her body, and forced her other hand into the other cuff.

“I’ll take that.” Ladybird plucked the spray out of her grip and offered it to Chat Noir like a silver platter. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“With pleasure. Cataclysm!” She tossed him the can and he caught it, the black energy crumbling it to dust. A little black and violet butterfly fluttered up from the ashes like the worst phoenix metaphor ever.

Ladybird swiped her yoyo like she’d seen her predecessor do a hundred times and captured the akuma. It came out with its wings bright white. She watched as it disappeared among the stars.

Chat Noir held up his fist with a proud smile. “Pound it?”

Ladybird grinned gratefully back at him. “Pound it!”

--

“Marinette,” Master Fu said. “I wasn’t expecting company this evening.”

“I’m sorry for barging in. I’m not used to just sitting by during akuma attacks, and my apartment is empty and I miss Tikki and I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I understand. I’m deeply troubled by the appearance of this akuma tonight.”

“So am I, Master. That’s not why I’m here though.” She stood with her arms crossed. “I accidentally saw Chat Noir transform in my living room this evening.”

Fu’s only response was to go back into the kitchen and pick up a teapot. Marinette swore she saw the corners of his lips quirk up.

She threw up her hands. “You must think this is very funny, don’t you?”

“You two have paced circles around each other for thirteen years. Would you not be just as amused in my position?”

“I can’t believe I’m having Chat Noir’s baby! Do you have any idea how many kitten jokes I’ll have to endure?”

Master Fu handed her a cup of steaming tea. “Drink this. It is good for the nerves. On a more somber note, I must ask you to tell Adrien your identity very soon, Marinette. I hate to trouble you with this theory, but it concerns him as well.”

“What’s going on?” They both sat down.

“Hawk Moth released an akuma for the first time in four years. It bothers me that it’s coincided with your maternity leave.”

Marinette sighed. “It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me either.”

“It may be he thinks his chances are better against a new ladybug. You were wise to choose someone with experience already. Whatever the reason, it’s become more imperative than ever to retrieve the missing miraculous, and now that Hawk Moth is active again, we have our chance to find him. I went back to the old academy for the Order of the Guardians, as you know. While there I recovered a number of old texts and I’ve found a single strange record about the Butterfly, so brief I almost missed it. There was once a holder who was able to detransform then akumatize himself.”

“The butterflies stay active while Hawk Moth is his civilian self?” Marinette yelped.

“Few have attempted such a thing. One succeeded in transferring powers to herself, that I now know of.”

“So Hawk Moth could have akumatized himself at some point.”

“Exactly. I’ve spent years searching for him. Every clue I find on some level implicates the same person. But I’ve never found a smoking gun, and I’ve always dismissed him because he was once akumatized into The Collector.”

“The Collector…” Marinette whispered, sifting through her memories. She remembered each akuma persona, all right, but the whacky names and civilians behind the butterfly often got mixed up in her head. “A previous suspect…oh no.” Her eyes widened. “No, no, no, tell me it can’t be Adrien’s dad.”

Master Fu just looked at her sadly.

--

When Adrien got back, Marinette was asleep. He sighed in relief; he needed sleep before he had this conversation with her, and after the way he jet off tonight, he had to tell her. In the morning.

He changed into a pair of sweats and slid under the covers next to her. He noticed that she’d changed into pajamas in his absence. Adrien wrapped her in his arms, one hand against her growing belly, and closed his eyes.

Chapter 11

Ko-fi

#adrien #marinette #adrienette #kid fic #adrienette kid #adrinette #baby #unplanned pregnancy #ml #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #tikki #chat noir #cat noir #ladybird #maricat #marichat #fic #fanfic #future fic #post canon #identity reveal #alya #alya cesaire #master fu #rena rouge #kwami swap #kinda #not really

[aithne]

(Illume) The Bound Fox

There is no true privacy on a ship, Reiko thought as she attempted to find a location on the deck that was out of the way of the sailors, who were going about their jobs as usual. What she needed to do now was going to require a fair amount of talking aloud, and she really didn't want to be cooped up in her cabin any more than necessary. Not with some of the memories that were beginning to return.

She finally found a relatively out of the way location, settled herself more or less comfortably, and turned her face towards the sky. Her spirits--the five that were left--swirled and settled beside her. Miss M, her mouth still bound by Lin's mark, hugged herself, the look on her face a mixture of grief and fear. Kei, the only one who could not be still, paced the deck before her. Tsuyoshi was muttering to himself, which Reiko could hear as if someone were talking several rooms away. Setto sat beside her, seeming to be waiting for her to speak.

And Zhane perched on a rope, looking at Reiko with an expression that Reiko could not read. Perhaps she was angry, or perhaps she was afraid. Perhaps both.

"I'm sorry." Her tone was soft. "I...is there anything more I can say, really?" The muttering from the bound spirits grew louder, Zhane's voice contributing to the fray as she tried to express something incomprehensible to the shaman. "I've never heard of a sword that can trap spirits." She reached out with her mind to that place that Jin had once been anchored, the place where he had been raw and painful. "My Jin, my honorable Jin." She had loved him, the older man who had so often lectured her when she'd done something less than honorable. But the lectures were always kindly meant, and though his words had often stung she'd always had to admit that he had a point.

Setto looked at her, and said, "You knew that jade is a substance that affects spirits. You knew that Jade Warriors can see spirits, and you knew that it was likely that the warrior had a nasty surprise in store for you. And yet, you still rushed into the fray, and attacked the person that the warrior was created to protect." His words were mild, but the anger behind them was not, and Reiko quailed; Setto had a temper on him, though it sounded as if he was holding it in check for the moment. "And your impulsive behavior lost you Jin. Is there a reason we shouldn't all be angry with you, Reiko?"

She shook her head. "I just...didn't think. The lady had a knife to her throat--if I hadn't done anything, she might have been killed."

"And instead, you sacrificed one of us. Who, I will point out, you have a sacred duty to protect from harm."

"I just didn't think, all right? I forgot about the Jade Warrior, and I've always--"

Setto's voice was quiet. "And you've always had Lin to guide you, to keep you from doing something truly stupid. She kept you very young, but she also kept you out of serious trouble. Even though you're centuries old, you're still a pup. A one-tail. And for someone who is, really, quite clever, you certainly can be an idiot sometimes."

Reiko felt the lash of his anger in those words; had she been in fox form, she would have tucked her tail between her legs. She settled for pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face in her hair. The place where Jin had been was a liquid fire on her spirit, the wounds across her back that were not yet completely healed ached. After she'd been roused back to consciousness by Funitsu, she'd refused any more healing, feeling somehow that there should be some physical punishment for losing one of her beloved spirits. "The others don't understand. Panda thought that I should be glad to be rid of you."

"They only see the strangeness that mortals call madness. Between your vixen nature and you talking to us aloud..." He shrugged. "Rei, you've never particularly worried about your differences."

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I've never had this many people I could call friends all at once, either. And I need to protect them, as well as you, as well as the Lady."

"Don't worry about the rest; they seem more likely to end up defending you than the other way around. Yukiko and the child are your priority, and us. Let those with strength do the fighting. Your battleground is altogether different. Combat can sometimes be won before the swords are drawn. That's where you need to concentrate."

"And cleaning up afterwards." Reiko looked up at Setto, her hair falling over one eye. He still looked angry, his arms crossed. When he was alive, she remembered soothing him out of his anger with soft kisses, but that obviously wasn't going to work now. She tried to speak but was startled by a sudden flare of pain from the place Jin had been. "Ow! What the--" With an effort of will, she dropped into her magical Sight, scanning the place that hurt so badly.

The place that hurt was a sigil, burning into her with white fire. Concentrating, she looked at it, trying to comprehend the mind that had set these into her soul. Lin, Lin, what trap have you set for me? She thought the sigil was familiar--wait. It was the same sigil that had been set over Jin's heart. A quick check revealed that each of the spirits' heart sigils was inscribed in white fire somewhere on her body. She couldn't stop to think about that, though, because she saw--and felt--the mark that had matched Jin's pulse irregularly, burning her. "They must be connected somehow, and now that Jin's gone, the power's somehow unbalanced." She touched her pool of power, and hissed as she felt that it was much smaller than it had been this morning, and dwindling rapidly. This flaring, whatever it was, was drawing on her power; she had to stop it, and quickly. She drew a silver thread from the small pool that still existed, remembering the lesson that she'd learned the other day.

She threaded the sigil with her silver fire. It was difficult, more difficult than the last one has been, but she traced and traced it, silver swallowing white finally--

And darkness came abruptly as the sigil shot white sparks and disappeared, the rest of the sigils flaring bright as the sun as the power redistributed itself into the remaining bindings. Reiko's body sprawled to one side, limp, her spirits all regarding her worriedly, Miss M stooping and brushing her fingers against Reiko's hair.

Hiroshi had come up to the deck for a breath of air and to see what there was to be seen on the coast. He was leaning on the railing, enjoying the wind in his face, when all the of hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was something wrong, somewhere, the part of him that was constantly evaluating even the safest of surroundings for signs of danger was prodding his attention. What was it...wait. There were air currents that weren't acting like they should, swirling around his face. He backed away from the railing, turning, trying to pinpoint a place that felt more wrong than right. He saw, from a niche made from several crates lashed to the deck, a small bare foot protruding, and the edge of some bright red cloth. He remembered that red, Reiko had been wearing it that morning when they'd all arisen. Crossing the deck with several long steps, he looked into the niche to find Reiko tumbled over on her side, breathing shallowly, obviously unconscious. He put a hand on her shoulder, saying her name, but she didn't awaken.

No obvious signs of injury, no indications of magical attack--what could be wrong with her? Well, he should probably get her somewhere safe and find Funitsu to see if he could figure out what was wrong with her. He eased an arm around her, resting her head against his shoulder, and was picking her up when the tiny woman jerked and thrashed, her eyes flying open. "Reiko! Reiko, it's all right, it's just me." He watched as recognition filtered into her yellow eyes and her body relaxed, breathing out.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I found you here, passed out, no sign of what had caused it around. What do you remember?"

Reiko thought, remembered the sigil, remembered tracing it, and---"Oh. Just a moment." She closed her eyes and used her magical sight to look at the place where the sigil she'd erased had been.

It was gone, completely, as were a number of other sigils that had been connected to it. In fact, there was a whole swath of her body that was now free of sigils, her right hip and leg bare of magical bindings. "That must have been a master mark," she murmured, forgetting that Hiroshi was next to her. "Take out the master, and the others fall. But the master sigils are somehow linked into my spirits...oh, Lin, you are an artist as obsessive as any I've ever met."

Hiroshi, confused, said, "Reiko, you're not making any sense." As usual, the thought came unbidden, but he didn't speak it.

"Oh!" Reminded of his presence, Reiko blinked. "Um. Do you want the long explanation or the short one?"

"Is either of them more likely to make sense?"

She thought. "Probably not."

"The short answer, then."

"How to sum it up...All right. You know Lin, the spirit of mine who left me, had ways of keeping my memories and powers bound, right?" At his nod, she continued. "She bound me using sigils, magical diagrams, all of them linked together over my body. There were seven master sigils, the ones that anchored all the rest. These sigils were somehow linked into each of my spirits, and they power them with their energy. When Jin was taken from me today, that master sigil somehow went haywire. I was able to erase it, but I think it discharged all of its energy into the rest of the bindings. For some reason, I passed out."

Hiroshi regarded her silently as she finished speaking. She rubbed her forehead, muttering, "And it's given me a wicked headache, as well."

He was suddenly aware of the fact that he still had his arm around her shoulders, and that her body was warm against his. He released her, sitting down with his back against a crate. "I have to confess that I don't really understand what you're talking about. But I am no magic-user, so."

She snorted. "At least you seem to believe that I have spirits. I overheard Funitsu referring to my spirits as my imaginary friends the other day. He'd better be careful who he calls imaginary, is all I have to say."

The archivist chose his words carefully. "The Scorpion is a skeptic when it comes to certain things, it seems. It may yet come back to haunt him, so to speak."

She shrugged. "I'm used to people thinking I'm crazy." She glanced at him, a rueful expression in her eyes. "You might still think I'm nuts, but thank you for at least believing I'm real. As for not understanding...what it really means is that there was a part of me that was locked away that is now free. I remember more, now, of what I am. Who I have been."

"What do you remember now?" His curiosity was getting the better of him. Perhaps, unlike the rest of her stories, this one might make sense. Such an optimist, Hiroshi, he chuckled to himself.

"I remember Jin. He was a retired samurai, widowed five years by the time I met him, living on his estate. His oldest son was running most of the family's affairs when I met him, so he had quite a bit of time on his hands. Time enough to notice the pretty apothecary in the village closest to his estate.

"Love between us grew softly and gently. I was going by Mei at that time, and I knew he loved me the day he brought me a branch of plum blossoms and told me that I was sweeter by far than my namesake. His family eventually found out and were properly scandalized, thinking that I was somehow taking advantage of him. They thought I was wanting to marry him and inherit from him. I never managed to convince them that I wanted nothing of the sort.

"He was very sweet, such strength held under perfect control. I loved him and thus I overstayed my welcome. A year after I met him, I drained him to death, not knowing what I did. And then Lin took everything away again. But now..." She closed her eyes. "I remember things about herbs and medicines that I didn't before. I remember the four systems of elements that are in wide use, and the places where each correspond. I remember how to cure illness with my herbs. And how to kill with them." She gave him a canny look. "I am certain you know of what I speak. Archivist."

He nodded, touching one finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence. Amusement flashed in her eyes and lingered around the corners of her mouth, and she climbed to her feet. "I think I'm all right. A bit dizzy, but I'm sure it'll pass." Reiko stretched as Hiroshi got to his feet. She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you for checking on me."

He shrugged. "You're a friend, kitsune."

She looked away, out over the ocean. "Very few have ever said that to me, who knew what I am. Fewer still have meant it. The problem with being an immortal is that it can get very lonely." Then she blinked, her demeanor changing in a flash, and she was climbing barefooted into the rigging. Hiroshi watched her go, bemused.

He paused, waiting for Reiko to be safely out of earshot, and said, "Did you hear what you came for, Lady?"

Yukiko stepped around the crate, smiling perhaps a bit ruefully. "I did, thank you. How did you know I was there?"

He shrugged. "I have excellent hearing, Lady. But you knew that."

"So, what do you think of our little shaman, now? Do you have a verdict on her, as several of my retinue seem to?"

"No, Lady." He looked up into the rigging, where Reiko was talking animatedly to someone neither of them could see. "In all honesty, I'm not sure what to think."

Yukiko looked up, her expression unreadable. "I hope you meant what you said about being her friend, archivist. I have a feeling she's going to need all she can get soon enough. As will we all." She turned and walked away towards the bow of the ship.

Hiroshi returned to the railing, leaning on it, watching the coast slide by.

#so queued #gaming recaps: illume #D&D recap

[mythvoiced]

@jeoseungsaja | the GBEP

---

Well, it's not something he'd admit with ease, misplaced pride and all that, but the goblin can't actively lie about it either, the matter of the fact that he is competitive, especially in all manners regarding love.

Maybe even up against the very subject, object, past present of his love, entering his field of vision like petals blown from a peach tree to wash over the profile of a monk sat there beneath it, praying not for salvation or atonement, but in gratitude of the ease of heart he's been granted.

In gratitude for the ease of heart Yeo has granted him, gentle and fiery in his presence, a crackling flame in a fireplace during cold winters and winter nights that were just so-so, his favourite excuse to pretend he likes the outdoors more or the indoors more or wherever it is that Yeo is so he doesn't have to say out loud how every place becomes his favourite if that crown of cinnabar is the silhouette he's following into it.

It'd be an easy concession to make, if he were to allow it to roll of his tongue like a saving grace pressed as a kiss onto a sinner's forehead. But he's the punished here, he's the sinner, and he finds such a confession might be too heavy for a conversation accompanied by the melody of Yeo's smile, the ease of his movements, the flowers appearing in Shin's hand, and the reverberation of the shiver of Shin's everything at the most minute of touches Yeo delivers to his skin.

He kisses him softly and with reverence and Shin has to keep the altars out of his voice, the confessionals out of his eyes as he lets the fox of his heart guide his face.

He goes along the way he'd follow him to the very end of the world and then some, the way he'd break any oath and any vow for him, the way he'd become a monster and than a little bit worse than that if it meant ridding the world of all evil that haunts Yeo, even though he muses Yeo wouldn't appreciate that, having his absolution ripped from him.

But he would.

He would because it's him.

He would because the little shit knows what he's doing.

Shin, terribly and divinely enamoured by the soft petals unfurling beneath his general's fingers when he brushes them over the flower crown, finds a corner of his heart to save the image of it in and then puts it aside, reaches out to the coffee table to place the crown down as gently as though it were made of the most precious crystals this timeline has to offer.

All because he must free his hand to hold something even more valuable.

He reaches out, smooths his hand along Yeo's side, moving along with it to get the necessary stretch past his hip, past his waist, find a spot in his lower back to press into while his other hand grabs Yeo's free hand, pulling him closer, inviting him into his lip where he might admire him better.

"Maybe I am," he answers belatedly, admitting that, well, yeah, maybe he is that competitive, smiling widely enough to kid the world into believing they aren't the pained veterans they are.

He pulls his hand away from Yeo's, finds a line to trace from his cheekbone to his temple, unorthodox in relation to himself and the gentleness he has for Yeo.

"And if I can have that domain too... I'd only be a fool not to take it. And you, my King? Do you know where you reign?"

#jeoseungsaja #the goblin;kim shin #a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo #the length of my life becomes apparent when i realise how much of it we spent apart;verse 4 wang yeo & kim shin #ALEX MY ADORED LOOKIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GET BACK ON DISCORD YESTERDAY (15/05 as of posting this hehehe) BUT #HERE I SHALL YELL ABOUT YEOSHIN VIA THIS INSTEAD >:333333 LOOKIT FINALLY ME REAPPEARING IN YOUR ACTIVITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 #I WILL ETERNALLY BE GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR THESE TWO SIMPS NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO WRITE A REPLY FOR 'EM #THEY ARE SO DEAR TO MY HEART THEY'VE SHAPED ME SO MUCH AS A ROMANCE WRITER AS WELL??? #IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE?????? JUST YOU AND EVERYTHING WE WRITE TOGETHER #FUNDAMENTALLY AND ALWAYS IMPROVING GOOD OL' LENA~ KLGFHJGF ♥♥♥ #AND I'M SO SORRY THAT HE PUT THE FLOWER CROWN AWAY FOR A MOMENT THERE HE'S JUST SUCH A BIG FOOL HE'S LIKE #A CUTE LIL THING OVERWHELMED BY ALL THE SWEETNESS HE'S ALLOWED HERE #THOSE DETAILS YOU MENTIONED ABOUT THE CROWN IN YOUR TAGS I-!!!!!!1 THEY #WILL BE ADDRESSED WE MUST ADDRESS THEM... AS SOON AS SHIN GETS OVER HIMSELF JUST A MOMENT #HIM AND HIS SIMPING FHKLGHGKLJSKLGDHLFJHK #I HOPE THIS IS STILL OKAY LOVE YA LOADS~

[andistic]

❝All I see is red. What do you see?❞ Full Name: Annie Renée Stewart Pronunciation: An ∙ nee, Ra ∙ nay, Stu ∙ art Meaning of Name: ❧ Annie is a diminutive of Anna. Anna is most likely a variant of a Hebrew name Hannah, meaning "gracious" or "favored", because in the Bible she was a sincere and merciful woman. Ultimately the name lost its initial 'h'. ❧ Renée (often spelled without the accent in non-French speaking countries) is a French feminine given name. Renée is the French form of the late Roman name Renatus and the meaning is reborn or born again. ❧ Stewart is relating to the royal family ruling Scotland 1371–1714 and Britain 1603–49 and 1660–1714. Nicknames: The Broken Crown Gender: Female Pronouns: She / Her Age: 124 years old Mental Age: 28 years old Birthday: March 28th Zodiac: Aries Race/Species: Nephlim Nationality ❧ Mother’s side: Angel ❧ Father’s side: Alp  (A mythological nightmare demon) ❧ Birthplace: Remote barn in upstate New York. Accent: American ❝Queen is nothing but a title. A title that I cannot claim. Nor do I want to.❞ Skin Tone: Pale Hair Color: Raven Hair Style: Straight and long, reaching far down to her hips. When it gets wet it curls up just slightly. Sometimes she will pin it up into a messy bun or ponytail. Eye Color: Naturally crimson and she has cat-like pupils. Other details about her eyes: Her dark magic can change them to a bright blue just to blend in with humanity. Under stress, fear, or change, they'll flicker away back to the natural dark red. Body Shape: Square Clothing: She'll mostly wear anything black and quick to throw on. Easy to blend into the night and flexible for when she's fighting. Height: 6'2" Weight: 135lbs Tattoos: A faint one on her back depicting butterfly wings. The color is a bright cyan. She has another that's a vine decoration from her left hip all the way up to the base of her jaw. Piercings: A simple black ball on her tongue. Birthmarks: It's kind of covered up by the vine tattoo, one on her left hip that looks like a skull. Scars and burns: Long inflamed marks on her back, stomach, and chest. She has multiple burn marks everywhere on her body from closing a wound with Dawn. ❝If you hate my cold nature stop stepping near the freezer.❞ Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Preferred Gender: She doesn't have one. Romantic Status: Single First Kiss? ❧ Swept away by one of her mentors. Their relationship was simply platonic, she tried to use him to escape. He, in returned, tried to use her for power. First Date? ❧ She will always claim she never really had one. Unless slaughtering hordes of brainwashed millennial demons count as romantic in the slightest. ❝And why would I care about your petty feelings?❞ Overall Personality: She's very cold and blunt. Always stating the obvious. She has a bit of a humorous wit to her, able to dance around someone's mental state. How they view themselves? ❧ A monster. A killer of the night, ready to snap her jaws on hunger. How others view them? ❧ She doesn't know many, only family. Rumors leavened with conjecture, she is seen as a disgrace. The words were mostly uttered by her grandfathers, tainting her image. Postive Traits: Intelligent Brave Integrity Responsible Reliable Negative Traits: Cold-Shouldered Hot-Tempered Loner Aggressive Grim Likes: Clear night skies Her flower garden Silence Sitting on her roof Exerting power Dislikes: Someone using her shadows against her Human food Enthusiastic people Changes Demons Temper: She's very quick to set off. Anyone she meets is always on thin ice. Watch where you step. Dreams: Freedom To be human To be accepted Fears: The death of humanity Accidentally killing a human Falling asleep ❝You're merely a pawn in a small game.❞ Weapons: Dawn and Dusk, they're two spectral blades bound by a soul. She can call upon them, but cannot banish them unless they are physically broken. Once broken, Dawn cannot be resummoned until the full moon, and Dusk the new moon. She has to be careful when and where she does this, Dawn can cause fires. Powers: She can control both shadow and light. The shadows are like multiple hands or persons with a deadly grip. Also with the shadows, she can make your greatest fear come to life, long enough for her to flee or attack. With light, she has multiple arrows at her fingertips and a temporary blinding power for fleeing or attacking. However, she doesn't use her light powers too often and relies on darkness. Her darkness isn't well trained and she often causes a nightmare to herself. Intelligence: 10/10 Strength: 6/10 Emotional Strength 1/10 Speed: 9/10 Agility: 10/10 Stamina: 10/10 Defense: 0/10 Wisdom: 8/10 Humor: 9/10 Common Sense: 9/10 Loyalty: 7/10 Teamwork: 0/10 Confidence: 0/10 Patience: 4/10 Anger: 10/10 Control: 3/10 Kindness: 2/10 Trust: 1/10 Physical Health: 4/10 Emotional Health: 0/10 ❝It's not negativity, sweetheart. It's called life.❞ Overall health: Fit as a fox. Nothing fully wrong except her mentality and her blood. Mental Health: She's broken. She views herself as disgusting. A monster to be reckoned with. Something to be killed and slaughtered. She also periodically hears the screams of her victims. Physical Health: Her body is frail and tiny, but due to her small frame it makes her fast and nimble. Illnesses? In all technicality, her blood is corrupted. Being of a split breed, her body doesn't know which to choose. The plasma is loose, almost like water. Yet it is dark like thick black paint. It's easy to spread the tainted drops across the grass to turn the blades black. She has to be very careful if she gets cut. Mental Disorders? PTSD. If she sees a whip or small knives, she'll either break down into a panic or cause a fight. Smokes? Yes, cigarettes. Drugs? No ❝I have seen the ups and downs of this plane. It doesn't deserve to be wiped out.❞ 〈〈 HISTORY 〉〉 Childhood Life: Spending most of it in a cell, Annie can vaguely remember the age before she was swept away. She can remember the day she had met her blades. Well, at least the spirits that attached themselves to the dark and light. Dawn and Dusk fell from her lips, naming the dead. The dead that would be forever lost if she hadn't bound them to two weapons. Before she had reached four years old the demons took her. Locked her up because she was a combination not only feared, but also forbidden. To top this off her parents had royalty in their genes. After her birth their not allowed to claim their crowns. She cannot touch either as well. She was kept in a dark cell for many years. In silence, distant flames of fires beyond to be her friend. Cold bars were her enemy. A shackle to her ankle was a parent. Teenage Life: Still in the cold lifeless cell, she stayed. As she grew older, she got cocky. Arrogant and spiteful. Lashing out anyone who came to mock her. Fed up with the noise, her grandfather issued punishment to the now sixteen-year-old. Day in and day out, she was slashed with whips upon her back. Many times it brought tears to her eyes, cried to her silent voice. The skin on her back painted in the black ooze. Many times she thought she had died, only to realize to demons controlled that as well. Adult Life: Broken and quiet. That's all that remained in the cold cave with bars. A few would come, snicker at her humiliating place. She'd glare, the eyes filled with hunger and anger. They would scurry off whenever she stirred the shadows. She had grown powerful in dark captivity. Many forget that her genes carry ones of an Alp. Able to weave in and out of nightmares, of night. Finally, a March wind rolled over the surface of her imprisonment. Her bones could feel it as she turned twenty-five. It had been many years since someone came to the bars. To snicker, to laugh. To call her disgusting, a waste of a crown. This one did not, however. A man stood, just beyond the bars, a pitiful look upon his face. Empathy? Sadness? A combination of the two? She couldn't tell. "What have they done to you?" He called out as if he knew her, crimson eyes flickering in low light. The bars pried open, shadows she did not weave. The inky hands snapped the metal bars as if they were twigs, nothing more. Stepping into the cave, he gently removed the chain. It was rusted and surprised she hadn't realized she probably could break that off on her own. The realization hit once more. She fled, faster than she ever could. Instincts kicking in, one to feed. One to slaughter. This is when she made her first regretful kill. Standing in a pool of blood, she cried. Demons can forget their morals so easily, yet angels carry that weight with a heavy chain. After the rampage, she broke down. Killing easily over one thousand humans. Swallowing every soul greedily to fulfill her hunger. Warmth touched her shoulder, darkness filled her vision. The same two she had met years before, regaining their helpful master. Dawn and Dusk remained with her this whole time. Yet stuck on the surface, spinning in circles. Unable to save their savior. They fled into the night, searching for a new home. A new calling. They settled with a plot of unclaimed land, Dusk and Annie building a cabin in the middle of the woods. Far away from society and demons. Happy Moments: She can't recall much, the faint moments of her sisters. Either a tea party with Linda, who would then accidentally freeze the plastic cups or a dance with Lina. A prank or two with Lindy, only to get into trouble soon after. She holds these shattered and faded memories as close as she can. Sad Moments: Her heart drags through the mud each time she remembers the faces she killed. At times she will cry at night because of this. The faint faces of her siblings and parents also haunt her; she desperately tries to remember. ❝Just because you're here doesn't mean I needed you.❞ Mother Name: Cassandra Stewart Status: Dead. History: In older days her name was Cassandra - Dawn would be her future name - heir to the thrones of gold. She had four girls, all witches. It is one of the laws within the gates that all angels bare one witch in their life. Finding one human to serve as mother or father and fleeing with said child. Cassandra was special, she gave the gift of the seasons to her children. Even as the years went on, every time there is a hot day or a cold winter, Annie knows who made it. Cassandra was never happy though. Living under the unending course of laws and regulations. She ventured to the mortal land one day, meeting a man with horns. At first, she didn't know what to do, beginning to arm herself with a twig. A demon stood before her, handsome no less. Tall with black hair, piercing red eyes. His horns were curled, their tips barely touching his long, elf-like ears. He gave her a smile, opening his arms to the golden beauty. He had no weapon to brandish or show off. Instead, he just wanted to admire her, gaze at the lake eyes and blonde locks. Talking can lead to common ground. They both felt trapped with their crowns, unable to burn them away. Years would go by, feelings would pump strong. Until one day a child, ebony hair, eyes bouncing between red and blue. Happy, always happy. If that child could've only stayed that way. Cassandra was called in by her own father, ridiculed. He told her she didn't know what love meant. That loving a demon was unnatural. Cries of an unwanted child made her father snap. He broke off her wings, leaving her bones shattered and feathers a bloody mess. Tossing them aside, she was squished under his boot. A king can be cruel, even the ones with a heart of gold. "Don't," her final words began to crawl out of her throat. Her face turned to him, tear-stained and coated in her own blood. "Don't hurt her." He was a fool to even think she'd beg for her own life. No, instead Cassandra groveled for the halfbreed. If she wanted to be lower than scum, so be it. He would happily oblige. The angel plummeted to earth, surrounded by sandy deserts. Crimson mixed in with creamy tans, Cassandra wasn't able to get up. She bled out, buried by the forgotten wastelands. Father Name: Dani Acor Status: Dead. History: Demons are slightly weaker, at least those who don't have strong blood behind them. Millions upon millions of types conversed under the rock. There was a prince named Dani; Dusk would be his name in later years. After the news of his missing wife, only recently marrying her, he fled to the underworld with his newborn. Demons turned heads, staring at their fallen prince. He glared back in fear. He did the thing any father would protect his little girl. Although still children themselves, Dani found the coven of four witches. It wasn't hard, the house still under his fallen wife's name. Dani spoke with the eldest of the four, holding her face in his hands. That was his only option, to trust the half-sisters to raise the nephlim. "Lindy," Dani spoke to the confused fifteen-year-old. She opened her mouth, wanting to ask how he knew her name. "Your mother, she was special," Dani didn't let the girl speak, "far beyond special. Remember that, okay? I need you to take care of your youngest sister." He was holding back his own heartbreaking cries. Lindy looked back at Lindsey in confusion, she was the youngest that they only knew. Her mouth opened again, wishing to speak. Dani squashed her curious flame. "Just trust-" a loud bang came at the door. Time ran out. "Dani boy!" A snake-like creature broke the door into wooden fragments. Its face twisted with a horrific fanged grin. The blood born alp stood protectively in front of the children, they cowered in the corner in return. Dani would go down fighting, willing to spill his blood for his only child. The fight lasted for minutes, shadows and demons arguing about right and wrong. The prince was pinned down by the snake-like creature, unable to move or fight. Dani made his last decision, he sacrificed himself to damnation. The demons dragged their prince in chains, happy with a catch. He was brought beneath the earth for eternity, his throne no longer in view. He didn't care for the cheap seat, his heart ached for his lost love. Loneliness is a silent killer, his few months of confinement and heartbreak left him dead. Dani literally died of a broken heart. Siblings Names: Linda Stewart, Lindsey Stewart, Lina Stewart, and Lindy Stewart. Status: All alive. Friends Names: Dawn and Dusk (Spirits behind her blades.) History: Dani and Cassandra were doom driven lovers, a power beyond the kings brought them back. Angels and demons never die off, simply reborn into a new body with their memories erased. These two prolonged such a thing, they didn't want to forget. However, such a thing is written for them. Forgetting little by little of each other and their child. That is until Cassandra set foot on familiar land, a house with overgrown greenery. A coven beyond doors and a child with a crown of golden horns. She wasn't alone, a presence stood beside her. The golden dead turned, meeting purple in her eyes. Flashes of a man of horror, a sweeter heart in his chest, danced before her very eyes. A sly grin spread across his faded face, arms open for the golden beauty. "Dani?" Cassandra was in tears, practically choking on her own words. It was him, the one she never wanted to forget. Before she could run into her lover's arms, she was stopped by a young girl. The girl's hair was as ebony as the hours before midnight. "Why are you crying?" The child was no more than three, her big red eyes making her look innocent. Cassandra knelt down to her own daughter, wanting desperately to touch her face. "Nothing An-, I mean," Cassandra cleared her throat. Annie would never remember her mother's face, nor know why this strange woman knew her name. "Nothing, child." Cassandra gave the little nephlim a smile. She attempted to place her hand upon the girl's head, but her heart broke. She couldn't touch her own daughter, her fingers slipping through matter. Dani stood there, stiff. He couldn't look at his own daughter, the familiar ache echoed in his soul. Agitation was soon replaced in the sad pit, his hand roaming over his face. He could barely watch this, perhaps hoping he would forget. However, it melted when his daughter popped up with a question. "Want to play?" Annie scurried for a ball in the play yard. She held up the rubber toy with the brightest smile on her face. The two dead shared a few glances, they figured why not? Wanting to share the last few moments with their creation of profound love. "What are your names?" Annie tossed the ball, but it went through Dani. There was a flaw in their plan. The nephlim wasn't going to be discouraged, she tossed the ball away and offered tag. A single rule was made; the hand of the person who was it had to go clear through the other. Her parents agreed, but Annie brought the question up again. What were their names? The dead paused, thinking on how to carefully answer. For some reason, they didn't want to state their names. They figured if Annie ran to her sisters, Lindy would definitely know something was up. No, Cassandra wasn't going to let Lindy waste her days away trying to bring back the dead. She knew the fire witch would try. "How about Dawn and Dusk?" Annie said, hoping that the two liked the names. Her parents shared a smile, that was their loophole to avoid the truth. The three laughed, a family again; at least for the few moments, they had left. That was until Dusk fell, his hand pressed against his transparent forehead. His memories were fading, along with him. Dawn quickly ran to him, her own glow brighter than his. "No, no! Dusk! No! Don't leave now! Please!" Tears filled Dawn's eyes, she knew he would fade from existence. Annie stood quietly behind her parents, a tepid expression across her face. No one will ever know what pulled her to do what she did. "I can save him." Determination was clear in Annie's heart. The child was always strange, sensing something that was never said or there. She ran into the house, dragging a book back out with her. It was bigger than her, but she did it without complaint or question. She flipped the book open acting like she knew what she was doing. Except she knew what she was clearly doing. "Annie, this isn't time for ga-!" Dawn felt a shock throughout her body, something inside of her grabbed ahold of her invisible heart. Dusk was in the same pain, neither of them was able to speak. When the pain wiped itself away, Dawn and Dusk panted to regain their breath. Whatever it was, it hurt. Badly. In the very end though, both of them felt different. They felt connected to the earth, the heavens, and the underworld again. Dawn reached out to Annie, but something appeared after she did. A bright shimmering blade stood before her gaze, lighted by flames of holy. Floating above the ground and leaving a patch of burnt dirt. Dusk grunted behind Dawn, she whipped her head to see if he was okay. He was no longer becoming a faded memory, but he held his chest in pain. Dawn took his head into her hands, she felt him. He existed in the world and so did she. Dusk let out a painful scream, the core of his chest glowing an intense purple. Just like Dawn, Dusk summoned a blade, jagged and corrupted. The weapon had thorns to rip flesh open, twists and turns to pull out guts. It was large and heavy, slamming into the earth. Becoming lodged into its own hole in the ground. Enemy: Name: Her grandfather, Coro (Father's side), the king of mayhem. (Underworld.) ❝Get the hell away from me!❞ Pessimistic or Optimistic? Pessimistic. Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert. Bookworm or Party Animal? Bookworm. Dare Devil or Cautious? Dare Devil. Logical or Emotional? Logical. Working or Relaxing? Working. Think before Speaking or Speak before Thinking? Speak before thinking. ❝And when plants die, what do we grow after?❞

#angel #demon #halfbreed #oc #art #traditional art #original character #angst

[arrowsbane]

(extra)ordinary

@shanastoryteller​ @ink-splotch​ If I ever wind up being half as talented as you guys, I’ll be the happiest fox alive. So yeah, this one is for you guys. It’s short, but I might continue it later some time.

*Walking Whales borrowed from Vathara’s fic Embers. Go read it. Go. Now.

Let’s tell a story where Aang isn’t the Avatar who ends the Hundred Year War. 

Let’s tell a story where he doesn’t have that tremendous burden weighing on a peaceful heart, and thin bird-like shoulders; or the misery of war clouding his spirit-filled eyes.

But remember, for all that things change, things must stay the same.

True, Aang is not the hero of the Hundred Year War; he is not the Avatar to bring about peace. But he is still the Avatar. He will always be the Avatar born after Roku. And now he will be the Avatar whose death drops the burden onto an infant’s tiny shoulders.

This is a world where Aang clung to Gyatso like the child he was, seeking comfort in the only father he had ever known. This is a story where the Fire Nation descended upon a temple still housing a child-Avatar and his kin.

This is a story where Aang stays.

This is a story where Aang dies.

…

Sozin’s Comet roars bright in the sky, and the monks of the Southern temple call up a breeze to chase away the sweltering heat. There’s a crackle as grassy scrub on the cliff-face bursts into flame, and a teenaged monk flutters down to suck the oxygen from the fire. The next thing he knows, he is face to face with an armored body, and fire comes for his life.

He is the first to die – unnamed and unknown in this story. He is one of many faceless children, gone too soon. Murdered because a tyrant dreams of subjugating the world. His death is senseless, but it is not meaningless.

His death warns the others.

…

The Monks move quickly – Air is Freedom, but it is not always kind. Scything winds cut down soldiers, razor-sharp and blindingly cold. It is not enough. It will never be enough.

The younger children, teenagers and infants are herded into the greater sanctum, and sealed in - safe. The bison take to the skies with bellows of rage and fear. There is chaos. There is death. There is war on both sides.

The children are supposed to be safe.

But this is not a kind story.

This is a world where Aang clung to Gyatso like the child he was, seeking comfort in the only father he had ever known. This is a story where the Fire Nation descended upon a temple still housing a child-Avatar and his kin.

This is a story where Aang stays.

This is a story where Aang d i e s.

Aang stands his ground, and refuses to leave Gyatso’s side. They battle, back-to-back. Aang is kind and good and shows mercy – Gyatso doesn’t command him not too.

He doesn’t need to, not after Aang sees his kin cut down like sheaves of wheat.

Aang has Kuruk’s rage, and Kyoshi’s bull-headedness. He’s got Roku’s red-hot tears on his cheeks, and agony burning in his bones. He’s got Yangchen and Tian, Song and Min Wen. He’s got a thousand voices tied into his being and Rava wound tight around his soul.

He’s got a thousand reasons to stand and fight, and only one to turn and run.

So he stays.

And he dies.

…

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang - but with a whimper.

A whisper. 

A breath.

One last plea.

The echo of a boy ripples out across the world.

‘Save them’, it whispers, ‘Save my people’.

And so the world answers.

In the oceans, the walking whales* raise their heads and listen, before diving deeper towards the poles – where they will sing to the arctic wolves, the otter-penguins, the polar-bear dogs.

In the air, the Bison soar above the clouds, carrying monks and nuns dressed in tear-soaked robes of orange and saffron.

The dragons rage and roar, and they cast Makoto from their hearts and minds, strip her of her name and self. She-who-was-once-kin is no longer theirs; something Sozin will rage over as his life-long companion withers in mind and being until she is a beast of fire-and-flame-and-nothing-more.

And deep beneath the earth, the badger-moles burrow up to the temples, opening up escape routes for an entire people who are in need of asylum.

…

All across the world, Air Nomads – benders and non-benders alike – flee into the night, flee on the winds, on sea, under earth and sky. They hide away in the depths of the Northern Air Temple, in chambers deep beneath soil and bedrock, hollowed out by ancient Badger Moles as a hidden temple of last resort. The old stone statues are worn with age – from a thousand-thousand hands carefully cleaning away dirt and grime as the ages passed.

It’s here in this darkness, lit only by flaming torches that are as terrifying as they are comforting, that the shattered nation grieves.

“What about the Avatar?” rumbles an old Monk who had tended to the gardens on the terraces so high above them.

There’s a hiccup, and a muffled sob from the children of the Southern Temple, huddled together for comfort and warmth, and then –

“Aang’s dead,” whispers a boy no older than nine. He shivers and ducks into his temple brother’s side.

From across the chamber, a Nun dressed in saffron robes, her face chalk white, begins to sob inconsolably. Twelve summers ago, she had birthed a son named Aang.

The Monks and Nuns have no mothers or fathers, no blood brothers or sisters, no sons or daughters. They do not mourn for individuals, it is not their way. But nobody says a word. Her temple sister winds a robed arm around her shoulders, and clutches her close in a firm embrace. No shushing noises are made, no reprimands. The cave is silent, but for her gasping cries.

…

Air is the element of Freedom. People say that the Air Nomads found peace after giving up material possessions and removing themselves from the world…

The sad truth is, that they fled the world, and lost their temples in a storm of fire… it was only when they hid that they found a bare shadow of the promised peace.

What is peace? What is it worth when your children are born never knowing the sun on their faces, or the wind carrying them across the world?

…

After Air, comes Water, an avatar of change and adaptability. The truth is that change is like fighting an uphill battle in a world on fire.

Nanuq is a curious child, always asking why. Why is the sky blue? Why do the seals call? Why do the polar bear dogs howl at the moon?

Nanuq never asks why the ice cracks in the spring, or why the ocean follows the moon.

Had she lived another six years, the elders would have known to train her. If they had been paying attention, they might have known sooner.

But the world is at war and the sky is filled with black snow, and so Nanuq dies in a raid when she’s ten years old – unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, down by the water, giggling as it bent to her will.

…

Then Earth stands firm. If only for a handful of decades. Earth is substance, strength and determination – or pig-headed stubbornness, depending on who you ask.

Temujin is born in the rings of Ba Sing Se, and enlists in the Dai Lee when he’s barely sixteen years old. He’s named the Avatar not long after, and his life becomes that of war for the next fifty years.

Temujin is strong and steadfast - and very, very pig-headed. But he is also kind, and has a heart broken by war and famine and sorrow. Even stone walls fail in the end.

…

Fire is power and will and energy powered by the heat of the sun.

Hiro is both lucky and unlucky in being born into an earth-nation colony.

Lucky because a life under the red-hot iron first of Azulon, who even in his sunset years is every bit dictator of his youth, would have been terrible –

and unlucky because he’s not even seven and already a firebending prodigy when he sneezes and shoots ten feet into the air.

He’s seven, and got the power of the universe at his fingertips and there are angry-starving-raging people who don’t care that he’s a child or that he could be a force for good. He’s Fire Nation, and has the power of the universe in his fingertips and that’s more than enough to condemn him to death.

Death comes on a rusted, blunt farm tool. Death comes too soon.

Fire is power and will and energy powered by the heat of the sun, but even a candle flame can be snuffed out with a pinch of two fingers.

…

Air comes in the fall, and is gone before spring thaws the world oncemore.

Air that is trapped below ground can only be stagnant and dying.

Air is an infant born sickly, and a mother weeping silently.

Air is a puff of wind, too small to be considered a breeze.

…

Water is the element of change. Last time, this time, next time.

Water is patient. Water will wait. Water can grind down mountains, carve rivers a mile-wide into valleys, and turn cliff-faces into waterfalls.

Water always, always wins.

Water is change.

…

The identity of the current Avatar is a mystery – after Hiro’s death, confusion is rampant. Where will the Avatar Spirit go when there is no Air for it to inhabit next?

…

The truth is, the latest Avatar has no idea that he is a bender at all.

Sokka is a son and a brother and a warrior-in-training. His mother died in a raid, his father is away at war, and his little sister is always off playing with her magic water or listening to Gran-gran’s stories about the old days.

Sokka doesn’t have time for make-believe, or hope, or playing at being a Waterbender. He’s too busy hunting and trapping and fishing, too busy trying to train up a pack of four-year-olds and take care of his entire village – small as it is.

It’s a little bit ironic – because in the end, it’s why he’s going to survive.

Everybody is looking for a bender of great power.

Extraordinary, is the term people use to describe the Avatars.

Funny word, don’t you think. Extraordinary. Extra Ordinary.

Nobody is looking for an (extra)ordinary boy…

#mine #ficlet #atla #atla fic #short fic #aang #sokka #katara #for shana #and for ink #character death #death #lots of death #this is not what you expected #it's not all happy #in fa #it's not very happy at all #GUYS THERE IS DEATH IN HERE #PEOPLE FUCKING DIE OKAY #LITTLE KIDS DIE #Okay #you get the fucking picture #but dont say i didnt warn you #sorry #tbc? #idk

[ryukoishida]

QZGS | The King’s Avatar Fic: In which the final battle happens.

Title: Beneath the Cherry Blossom Tree Fandom: The King’s Avatar / Quan Zhi Gao Shou Character(s)/Pairing(s): Yu/Huang (Wenzhou/Shaotian); Ye Xiu Summary: A nine-tailed snow fox spirit rescued a young boy who would become a swordsman sworn to protect the weak.   Part: 5/5 Rating: PG-13 A/N: Thank you for sticking with this fic until the very end! Happy birthday to the sweetest Captain Yu Wenzhou!~

Writing Commission | Editing & Translation Services

Parts:

i. Encounter ii. Awakening iii. Confession iv. Survival v. Blossom

v. Blossom

“Hah, you think Yu Wenzhou is going to fall for a cheap trick like that?” Huang Shaotian chortled loudly and then yelped in muffled pain when he felt the hot flash of a whip slapping against his tender, bleeding skin, which had already bore numerous of bloody incisions crisscrossing each other in nauseating patterns. “Ye Xiu…” he bit out his name, amber eyes flaring with unadulterated abhorrence. He could taste the sweet metallic tang in his mouth from where he’d bitten his lips too hard in an attempt to keep his voice down to a minimal.

He refused to give Ye Xiu the satisfaction.

He was currently bound to a wooden pillar, his top garment torn to tatters and fallen limp and useless at his waist while his Ice Rain had been tossed to the far end of the chamber like a toy sword, the metal of the sheath gleaming dully like a signal for help in the dark.

Before him stood Ye Xiu, the velvety black of his cloak a startling contrast to the bright, brutal red of his eyes and the sharp edge of his pleasant smile as he turned around gracefully to stare longingly at the man standing tall and straight in front of him: Yu Wenzhou, who was as still as a statue crafted by a talented artist, his eyes blank and unfeeling, unthinking. Empty of a soul.

“Whether one is a mortal human or a millennium-old fox spirit, they all have the same weakness inside. The seedling in Wenzhou’s heart that had been moisturized and illuminated by time’s raindrops and sunshine has finally bloomed into a dazzling, beautiful blossom, and it is all thanks to you, Huang Shaotian,” Ye Xiu threw a casual grin over his shoulder before he stepped closer to the fox spirit and wistfully played with a lock of silky, snow-toned hair between his fingers, tucking it carefully behind Yu Wenzhou’s ear and leaning forward to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Yu Wenzhou remained frozen on the spot like he couldn’t feel or notice anything outside of his body.

“Yu Wenzhou, snap out of it! Hey, you goddamned snow fox! Listen to me!” Huang Shaotian shouted as hard as he could; he didn’t even care that his tone was verging on hysterical or that his throat was scorching so much that his voice sounded agonizingly coarse and dragging over sand.

“You are wasting your breath,” Ye Xiu told him with a laugh. “His mind is trapped within the fantasy world I have created especially for him. It pains me to do it, having to put your image in there instead of mine, but I suppose there is no choice; he likes you a little too much — much more than he is willing to admit to you, or to himself. I have known him for many centuries, you see, and it appears to me that for whatever reason, you are the only one he would put down his defenses for when he would shun other beings and keenly isolate himself from the rest of the world. But enough of this. Would you like to know what he is currently experiencing in his fantasy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Huang Shaotian glared at the demon, his golden gaze piercing as he pulled and struggled against his restraints; it only served to tear new wounds into his already bleeding and bruised flesh.

With a broad, wicked grin and seemingly immune to the swordsman’s incessant insults thrown at his direction, Ye Xiu placed his index and middle fingers against Yu Wenzhou’s temples and closed his eyes in concentration.

“Ah,” Ye Xiu exclaimed softly in delight when he successfully connected to the fox spirit’s mind. “There you are, Wenzhou. What have we here? Hmm… Such a gorgeous view of cherry blossom trees. Is that a special place for you both? Oh, here we go.” He paused as he continued to observe, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “Mmm, I never realize Wenzhou could let himself go like that — those impatient little noises he makes at the back of his throat whenever he wants more, is that not just the most darling, arousing sound?”

“S-Stop feeding him that bullshit!” Huang Shaotian snarled, but he was reminded by Ye Xiu’s words of those exact sounds coming out from Yu Wenzhou’s mouth when they lain together just a few weeks prior, and the tips of his ears grew hot from the memory. Yet the flames of fury easily overtook the small flickers of embarrassment stemmed from Ye Xiu’s dirty, sneaky words.

He would not allow Ye Xiu to taint the precious memory they’d shared like this!

“Ah, I see. So you two are already at that stage of your relationship,” Ye Xiu stepped away from the still entranced fox spirit who continued to stare emptily at the space in front of him, no shift in expressions or any hint of waking up from the subconscious vision evident on his face.

“What stage?! What relationship?!” Huang Shaotian bantered, “You better shut your dirty trap, bastard, before I get over there and permanently shut you up for good!”

“I would love to see you try because that would give me the wonderful opportunity to tear you apart piece by bloody piece,” when Ye Xiu looked over at the bound swordsman, the restless craving in his eyes made Huang Shaotian shudder just a little though he tried his best not to show it, and he continued with a small chuckle, “nothing shall thrill me more than that. I admit, I have underestimated you the last time we met, but rest assured that this time, I will be ready for you.”

“Hmph, tough talk for someone who’d just been recently defeated and ran away with his tail between his legs,” Huang Shaotian sneered. Another crack of whip and sharp, blistering heat across his chest from one of Ye Xiu’s minions, and the swordsman hissed in pain.

“You are the only one he cannot seem to resist but I will be the one who shall bond and become one entity with him,” Ye Xiu sighed longingly with dark, scheming eyes. “With his mind and heart distracted thus, I supposed now you can witness how I will singlehandedly retake what is mine. And only after then shall I decide what to do with you.”

Ending with a tone of satisfaction and finality, Ye Xiu returned to his previous position before Yu Wenzhou’s unmoving figure; he reached out with care and combed the fox spirit’s forelocks with his long, elegant fingers, leaning in and placing his mouth directly over Yu Wenzhou’s.

“Hey… Hey, Ye Xiu, what the fuck do you think you’re doing…” Huang Shaotian was panicking, his voice shaky. He rarely panicked — even when he was faced with death on several occasions during work, he had never felt this powerless — but forcing him to passively and helplessly watch Yu Wenzhou being assaulted like this was more than the young swordsman could take. He began to yank harder against his restraints, the spell-reinforced metal digging into his wrist and dragging wanly against the wooden post.

A few paces away from him, Ye Xiu’s hand trailed a path down Yu Wenzhou’s neck and along the line of his chest, slipping into his white robe and resting his palm against the fox spirit’s pulsing center. There was little resistance this time; the gates guarding Yu Wenzhou’s heart, mind, and soul were unlocked, unguarded, and opened wide. Ye Xiu grinned into the kiss; he could taste the sweetness of victory at the tip of his tongue.

‘You are finally mine, Yu Wenzhou,’ was Ye Xiu’s last conscious thought before he let himself fall.

He pried open the fox spirit’s mouth gently with his tongue, though a hint of impatience in that gesture betrayed how eager and keen Ye Xiu truly was to be inside of Yu Wenzhou, to be in control of the man he’d longed for for so many centuries, the raw and refined power he possessed. Like a drunken man, Ye Xiu felt himself — his soul and core and accumulation of vitality intricately overlapping into one immense mass — tipping forward weightlessly, attracted by the pure warm glow of Yu Wenzhou’s vitality, and leaving his weaker physical shell behind.

The shapeless mass of Ye Xiu’s being — a glowing ink-washed shadow — slipped out of his body through the seven orifices, trails of dark, glittering smoke having a mind of its own, and entered Yu Wenzhou’s body in the same manner until no traces of the dark matter was left out in the open air.

Yu Wenzhou stumbled and fell to his knees, his arms reaching downward to brace his fall.

“Yu Wenzhou!” Huang Shaotian yelled, desperation filling his eyes, his voice, his entire being. “Are you all right?”

The fox spirit didn’t move for a long second, but then he precariously lifted one arm up and directed his index finger at Huang Shaotian, who stared at him with confusion and assumed that Ye Xiu had done something strange to him when he entered his frame. But before the swordsman had a chance to ask, a small flicker lighted up at the tip of Yu Wenzhou’s finger, and Huang Shaotian felt his restraints melted and fell away like old, crinkled leaves at the approach of autumn.

There was no hesitation despite the bleeding cuts all over his body and the radiating ache in his joints when he staggered forward to where Yu Wenzhou was still awkwardly trying to hold himself steady on his hands and knees. The swordsman dropped to his knees and placed his hands on the fox spirit’s shoulders, gently shaking him to get his attention.

“Yu Wenzhou? Can you hear me?”

“Go,” Yu Wenzhou uttered the single word with his jaws clenched tightly, his body wound tight as if he was struggling to keep something inside him from spilling out.

“What?” Huang Shoatian blinked, his arms frozen in place.

“Go!” Yu Wenzhou said a little loud, a little more insistent.

“What the fuck?” Huang Shaotian swore, the anger slowly crawling up his spine. He shoved at the fox spirit until he toppled backwards and the swordsman was half-sprawling over him. Yu Wenzhou’s eyes were screwed shut, and he was biting his lower lip like he was in a lot of pain. “What the hell are you on about, Yu Wenzhou? We’ve talked about this before we decided to carry out this idiotic, suicidal plan of yours: we come in together, and we leave together. Nobody’s getting left behind today — not if I have anything to say about it!”

“Please, Huang Shaotian, I beg you, just…” Yu Wenzhou paused and swallowed hard, catching Huang Shaotian’s hands within his own and started again, “…be good and listen to me this one instance.”

Yu Wenzhou was the great, majestic millennium-old nine-tailed snow fox; he lowered his head to no one, he bent his knees for no one, and he most certainly plead to no one. Huang Shaotian inhaled shakily, his heart tightening with an excruciating pain as if someone was twisting a blade into his chest, and he didn’t understand what any of that meant; he didn’t understand what Yu Wenzhou wanted him to do.

He didn’t want to understand.  

Yu Wenzhou opened his eyes then, and Huang Shaotian shuffled back at the ink black eyes that stared back at him, the hue of it that familiar shade of haunting, glimmering black, emitting an unnatural glow. Ye Xiu was somehow trapped within his body, but this was Yu Wenzhou talking to him right now, his fingers still tightly laced with the swordsman’s.

“Get out of here and burn down everything.”

Yu Wenzhou’s command and request was absolute and final.

This had been his plan all along, Huang Shaotian realized too late: Yu Wenzhou had pretended to fall for Ye Xiu’s trick so that the demon could use his entire core to take over what he’d thought was an unarmed and defenseless body. Little did Ye Xiu know that not only the source of vitality that he sought was nestled within Huang Shaotian’s body, but also that without the fortification of his core, Yu Wenzhou might as well just become a mortal man.

He was planning to have Huang Shaotian set flames to his earthly body with the essence of this demon trapped within him so that Ye Xiu — once the pride and respected member of the fox clan who had fallen too deep, wanted too much — would be destroyed once and for all.  

One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats, four heartbeats later. Huang Shaotian exhaled slowly, and looking straight at Yu Wenzhou’s eyes, he replied with a smile, “No. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here.”

Yu Wenzhou was opening his mouth, ready to argue, but Ye Xiu was fighting back against him, and he could feel the fox demon’s presence shredding and jabbing blindly in his system like he was desperately trying to claw his way out. He coughed violently until black, ink-like liquid spilled out from between his lips, marring his pale skin.

He pulled Huang Shaotian towards himself by the lapel of the man’s garment and murmured one last time by his ear, “If your affection for me is true and genuine, then do as I say.”

Huang Shaotian drew back then, and shook his head with a fond, helpless expression on his face, a soft smile skittering along his bleeding lips. “I don’t think you actually know how this affection and love thing work, do you?”

“Huang Shaotian?” he knew that damn smile too well.

“Keep him busy, I’ll be right back!”

After he quickly retrieved Ice Rain, the swordsman began to go over all the spells and enchantments he’d learned over the years. None of them would be powerful enough to eliminate Ye Xiu’s essence, and though Ice Rain’s immense powers would obliterate Ye Xiu, it would also destroy the vessel that Ye Xiu was trapped in.

“I— I cannot hold him back much longer…” Yu Wenzhou pushed himself back against the wall furthest away from Huang Shaotian, yet even at that distance, the swordsman could see black tears streaming down from Yu Wenzhou’s eyes, tainting his cheeks in streaks of thick ink. He convulsed without a warning, made a strangling noise in his throat, and dropped to the floor like a broken ragdoll.

It was at that precise moment, when Huang Shaotian was standing alone in the middle of a swirling storm of frustration, perplexity, despair, and grief, that he felt it awoken deep inside of him.

The osmanthus fragrance was the first thing Huang Shaotian sensed, and then he saw the silver-lilac glow of Yu Wenzhou’s core; he felt the stream of vitality burning bright and beautiful like bursting starlight that ran deep and intricate into his own core; and he created the flicker of blue flames that started at the edge of his being, the tips of his fingers, until it enveloped his entire body like an uncontrollable wild fire that swallowed him and everything he wished to be awash with.  

The weaker demons and spirits that had been helping Ye Xiu with grunt work and were roaming aimlessly in this space had long escaped as soon as their master became trapped, but it was as if Huang Shaotian’s five senses had suddenly amplified exponentially, he could track down each and every single one of them within the proximity and with a flick of his fingers, the ghost flames were discharged from Huang Shaotian’s body and accurately hit their targets, incinerating them until they became nothing but dust and ash.

With Yu Wenzhou’s fox spirit powers activated in full force, fueling and churning vigorously within him, Huang Shaotian felt invincible, like he was capable of commanding the mountains and the seas.

Crouching by Yu Wenzhou’s unconscious body, the swordsman carefully lay him flat on his back. His enhanced eyes allowed him to see through the complex layers of skin and muscles, the trail of venomous black smoke still swimming and ripping through Yu Wenzhou’s internal system like a wild, frantic animal.

“Ye Xiu, come on out so we can play,” Huang Shaotian murmured with a small grin, and reached forward to cradle Yu Wenzhou’s face with the palms of his hands. As soon as his skin made contact with the fox spirit’s, a terrible screeching cry echoed around them, so sharp and intense that a being with a weaker soul would have been penetrated to death.

Huang Shaotian slowly got to his feet, and held within his palms was an entanglement of dark matter, a dense, black substance that gleamed weakly as it dragged itself out of Yu Wenzhou’s body, following Huang Shaotian’s command. Once he’d ensured that the smoke had entirely departed the fox spirit, he left Ye Xiu — or what was left of Ye Xiu’s essence — suspended in midair a few paces away from him.

The miserable cry didn’t dispel, though it had decreased significantly.

The dancing ivory and azure flames wrapped around Huang Shaotian like a protective cloak; the sheets of burning silk rippled freely in the air, unwinding into thin threads, and began to curl and coil around the black smoke as serpents would around their victims before they squeezed tight and broke their necks and their only chance of survival.

Before long, the flames had completely enshrouded Ye Xiu, and with a final prayer and curse, Huang Shaotian raised his arm up towards the ball of blue flames and gathered his hand into a fist, simultaneously causing the fire to scorch and combust with a heart-trembling roar, until the flames swallowed up every last trace of Ye Xiu that ever was, ever had been, ever would be.

His ashes rained down upon them quietly like snow.

Yu Wenzhou began to stir, and the foxfire within Huang Shaotian simmered down into a small, harmless spark.

*

“Let go of me, damn it!”

“You are injured. We must return to Blue Rain Peak at once and—”

“Yu Wenzhou, just stop, all right?” Huang Shaotian shook his arm free of Yu Wenzhou’s hold, and stood rooted in place, refusing to take another step forward. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Yu Wenzhou frowned, just a slight twitch of his eyebrows.

“Back there, you were ready to play the goddamn martyr and take Ye Xiu down with you even though we’d made an agreement to deal with him together. First, you didn’t tell me about your plan, and then you told me to leave you and burn you?! If… if you’d died along with that bastard,” Huang Shaotian inhaled shakily, forcing the wretched thought out of his head, and continued with a rougher tone, “how were you going to protect me, huh? Didn’t you promise me that as long as you live, I’ll be under your protection? I didn’t realize the great nine-tailed snow fox is the type to break promises.”

“Huang Shaotian, you are not making any sense, nor are you being reasonable right now,” Yu Wenzhou reached for him once more, but the swordsman flinched away from him. He only felt slightly terrible for causing the hint of hurt reflected in the fox spirit’s amethyst eyes.

He sighed deeply, the frustration clear in the way the line of his lips was pinched into a firm line; he crossed his arms elegantly before his chest.

“I thought you would have been clever enough to comprehend without me having to spell everything out for you,” Yu Wenzhou said in a cold, mocking tone, “my core rests within you now. Even if I shall perish along with Ye Xiu, it would not be too difficult for you to find a way to revive me. To think, you are even able to control my foxfires now, although any more than what you had discharged, it would have been an unfortunate day for all the innocent spirits in this area. I am honestly quite impressed with you today, Huang Shaotian.”

“I don’t want you to be impressed with me, all I want was for you to lo—” the swordsman clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to continue before he swiftly switched to another topic, “And what do you mean, ‘revive’ you? Do you think that kind of sorcery is simple? You’re overestimating my abilities too much. Besides, you… it won’t be the same ‘Yu Wenzhou’ anymore…”

He had been looking away right after he’d almost blurt out his thoughts, but when Huang Shaotian turned back to Yu Wenzhou again, it seemed the fox spirit had transformed back into his fox form, his nine tails waving languidly behind him and his eye glimmering knowingly as he nudged his wet nose against Huang Shaotian’s cheek.  

“Sneaky bastard. You always told me I’m rude, but isn’t it even more rude to transform yourself just so you can avoid having a conversation?” Huang Shaotian sniffed indignantly.

Laughter was clear in Yu Wenzhou’s twinkling eyes. He threw his head back, wordlessly signaling the swordsman to climb on his back.

“We’re not doing that teleportation thing again, are we?”

There wasn’t a lot that Huang Shaotian feared, but he really didn’t fancy experiencing that awful sense of motion sickness so soon again.  

Yu Wenzhou shook his head ‘no’, and Huang Shaotian breathed out in relief.

The ride back to the cave on Blue Rain Peak was quiet but not entirely unpleasant. After exerting so much energy during the fight, Huang Shaotian soon fell asleep in the comfort of Yu Wenzhou’s steady pace and the soft, warm fur on his back and the tail that wrapped protectively around him.

When he opened his eyes once more, Huang Shaotian discovered that they were already back inside the cave guarded by the cherry blossom trees, and night had long fallen outside, throwing the inside of the cave into utter darkness. His body didn’t ache any more, either, and when he glanced down at himself, he understood immediately that Yu Wenzhou had healed his wounds with his powers while he’d been asleep.

Speaking of the fox spirit himself… Huang Shaotian was about to angle himself up on his elbows to take a good look around but he didn’t get very far before a giant, fluffy tail wrapped itself around his frame — not too tight as to suffocate him but with enough force that it would be difficult for the swordsman to struggle out of.

Not that Huang Shaotian was planning to.

“Where do you think you are going?” Yu Wenzhou’s drawl was compellingly close, causing him to shiver slightly at their proximity.

“And what do you think you’re doing with your damn tail?” Huang Shaotian asked, turning his head to the side to see the fox spirit calmly sitting close by him with his legs tucked neatly underneath.

“Keeping you in place,” Yu Wenzhou replied smoothly as he glanced down at him with a regal look to his eyes.

“Afraid I might go off somewhere and leave you?” Huang Shaotian teased, and he thought maybe he’d taken it too far when Yu Wenzhou became strangely quiet, the light in his eyes dampening slightly. “Hey, Yu Wenzhou, I was just joking, you know that, right?”

“It is true,” Yu Wenzhou admitted softly, a hand reaching down to play with a strand of Huang Shaotian’s dark hair, but the swordsman was hardly paying attention.

“Huh?”

“It is true that…” Yu Wenzhou breathed deeply, his voice like distant thunder and his eyes darkening to the violet of the sunset skies, “I am afraid once I have let you go, you might never return to my side again. I do not like the thought of that.”

A brief moment of silence during which they took in each other’s presence, processing the full implication of those words as they hung between them like pinpricks of stars, and Huang Shaotian said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how you fox spirits think, or maybe you folks have a different sort of mindset than us mortals, but when you said…” Huang Shaotian tried to hide the heat that began to pool in his cheeks when he recalled the fox spirit’s exact wording, “when you said that you’re afraid I might leave you and never come back, doesn’t that make you forcing me to leave you in times of danger somewhat hypocritical?”

“I just did not want you to be in the midst of danger. I do not suppose I will be able to cope were you to perish because you were caught within the conflict between Ye Xiu and myself. It was not your fight to begin with, yet I have somehow dragged you into the center of it despite that. The least I can do is to keep you safe. Is that wrong of me to conduct myself so?” Yu Wenzhou didn’t understand exactly why Huang Shaotian was so furious with him. Protecting the one he cherished, keeping his loved one out of harm’s way — wasn’t that how mortals display their affection?

“All right, fine,” Huang Shaotian relented; it was difficult not to when Yu Wenzhou was staring down at him with such an innocent, clueless gaze. He pulled himself up with the fox spirit’s help. “That still didn’t excuse what you did, but we’ll have a talk about that at another time. For now though, I have one more question.”

“Will this be the last question?”

“Maybe,” Huang Shaotian gave him a quick smile as he settled more comfortably across from him before his expression became more solemn. “Why didn’t you take your core back when you knew that it had been fully healed? There was no reason for you to keep this thing in my body anymore, right?”

“When I offer the core of my life to you, I do not intend to take it back,” Yu Wenzhou said in a gentle rumble, reaching across to caress Huang Shaotian’s blushing cheek with his knuckle, and smiled lightly when he felt the warmth lingering on his finger. “My life is in your hands, and yours in mine. This is how we fox-folks express our fondness for our partner; it is to show that we — or rather, that I trust you enough to hand over my heart and my life for you to keep safe for the rest of our existence.”

“Fuck.” Huang Shaotian breathed out, and he knew it wasn’t the most appropriate response given the atmosphere and the topic of this conversation, but it was also a rare occasion when he found himself utterly speechless and unable to locate words in his brain, so he said honestly, “I don’t even know what to say now.”

Yu Wenzhou chuckled, and took the swordsman’s hands into his slightly larger ones.

“You do not need to say anything. All I ask of you is to forgive me for my belated revelation to your earlier confession, and to accept me as I am — all of me. Can you do that, Shaotian?” he paused there, gaze uncertain again, and asked with an uncharacteristically coy tone, “M-may I call you that?”

Huang Shaotian nodded fiercely at both questions, his eyes golden and warm with the sort of serene happiness that even he had no words to describe; he pulled up their linked hands and planted a soft kiss on the fox spirit’s finger, snickering when he felt Yu Wenzhou shiver at the slight, innocent contact.

“Shaotian…?” Yu Wenzhou leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, their lips barely brushing against each other’s when the fox spirit whispered, “Is there something that amuses you?”

“To think the great Yu Wenzhou, a nine-tailed snow fox spirit of almost a thousand years of age, would get embarrassed from just a small kiss on the hand when we’ve already done… so much more,” Huang Shaotian himself began to blush even though he was the one who brought it up.

“Call me by my name,” he said.

“I already do.”

Yu Wenzhou leaned in and nipped him mischievously at his lower lip, earning a stifled moan from the swordsman and a throaty whine when the fox spirit tilted away, leaving him craving more.

“You know what I mean,” he wrapped his tail possessively around Huang Shaotian — his lover, his partner.

“Wenzhou…” Huang Shaotian called out his name, savoring the sweetness the syllables left on his tongue, gentle and loving like the tender fragrance of cherry blossoms in full bloom, “it’s not nice to tease.”  

“I plan on doing much more than that,” he promised with a saccharine smile.

-

FIRST OFF, AN ANNOUNCEMENT: THERE WILL BE A BONUS CHAPTER! Maybe in the next few days. Definitely maybe before I head back to HK on Wednesday, I don’t know.

A/N: I feel so terrible about killing off Ye Xiu in this AU (but is he TRULY dead? HMM? HMM?) but I promise once I’ve gotten better at writing his character, I’ll write something nice with him.

#quan zhi gao shou #qzgs #the king's avatar #tka #yuhuang #bowie's crappy writing

[xxprincessjewelsxx]

The Lunar Mark (Xiumin Werewolf!au fic) Chapter 13

Warnings: none

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch.13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15(M) Ch. 16

“Y/N....Y/N can you hear me?” someone questioned. It was a woman...that you were sure of. You were also sure you had heard her voice somewhere before, but in that moment couldn’t place it. You tried opening your eyes and were met with bright green orbs staring back at you. “Yixing! Her eyes are open.”

“Thank you, Sora....” a tall man with kind eyes leaned over and looked at you, “Welcome back, Y/N. My name is Yixing...no, don’t go back to sleep now, you just woke up.” He placed a rolled up towel under your head to keep your head propped up. “I’m the healer of Minseok’s pack....if you’re wondering where you are you’re at the pack house, specifically in the bathroom. Don’t worry, the ladies did most of your initial washing.”

You looked and finally realized that you were laying in a large claw foot stub with hand towels covering both your chest and privates. “Where’s...where’s Minseok?” you choked out.

“He’s in the hallway waiting to see you, but first you have to let me do my work, okay?” he questioned.

You gave a small nod to this and in the silence of the bathroom, only talking when calling Sora for help, he began to work. It was a slow and tedious process, Yixing was spending as much energy healing you and you were trying to stay awake during the whole process. He had to be careful; he had to take care of the more serious injuries first.

There was no telling how long it was before Yixing had to call it quits for the time being. He was physically drained...as Sora came and collected him from the bathroom to get something to eat you looked at her and gave a small apology.

“There’s no reason to apologize,” she said, “Yixing knows his limits, and he’s doing this because he wants too...no one is forcing him. He just needs to rest....” As she walked out of the bathroom she closed the door only to have it open a moment later and Minseok standing there.

“Yixing told me to put bandages on your wounds. If you don’t want me to do it, I can get Eunha or Juhee or-,” he started, losing his confidence seeing the state you were in.

“I want you to do it....” you said. 

He gave a nod and walked over to you and began to wrap your wounds. You noticed how smooth his hands were for a werewolf; a werewolves hands much like the pads of their paws when they’ve shifted are generally rough mainly from spending so much time outside. But Minseok’s were smooth(er) than most.

He was careful and cautious as he wrapped and bandaged the wounds you had left as to not want to make you feel uncomfortable in your already vulnerable state. When he got to your neck however, he stopped.

The Lunar Mark...

*Story Time*

Curious isn’t it? How a mark the size of a silver dollar could prove to be so deadly...since the dawn of human and supernatural being a like there have always been ways to tell each other apart by ways of sight, smell, sound...special markings, like that of the Lunar Mark is one of the deadlier ways that those among the races tell each other apart.

Only female werewolves get them...they are born with the mark, it is faint at first, looking like nothing more than a scar. As the female hits her teen years it becomes more visible to others; visible to the males around her. After the first heat after the coming of age is when the mark is at it’s darkest, when she is dubbed “an unmated female”.

All supernatural beings have a soulmate, and unlike current times, when supernatural beings were at an abundance the soulmate connection isn’t what was always used for mating.

Especially for werewolves; some humans call werewolves ‘vicious mongrels’ and there is an underlining cause for that. There was a time were werewolves would fight over a female that they saw that the Lunar Mark, to earn her...to earn the chance to replace that mark with theirs, to make her his. The fights were vicious, some ending with only one party left standing. In that way, it was deadly between the wolves...they killed FOR that mark. Because they wanted to be able to replace that mark.

Humans....hunters...they used the mark to their advantage. See a female? A male or pack probably wouldn’t be to far away. TAKE a female...her pack comes to you. 

If it was so deadly...why not hide it? Werewolves can smell other werewolves, no? Yes then can...though deadly there is a sense of pride by not hiding or backing down from any fear, and that includes that of a hunter seeing the Lunar Mark.

It’s a gift...

It’s a curse...

And it is deadly...

The mark seethed an angry red color as it glowed under it’s new branding. The branding of a wolf hunter. It’s a branding mark that is well know due to seeing it among the pelts of wolves and foxes being sold in markets for centuries.

“What did he do to you?” he quietly questioned.

You looked at him, his expression was calm as was his touch...but his eyes were red. You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek and he looked at you. “Calm yourself, Minseok....your eyes are red.”

“He tortured you....” he said, “Am I not supposed to be upset by that?”

“I can tell there’s a storm brewing inside you though,” you said, dropping your hand down over his heart, “Anyone would be upset if their mate got hurt...but you need to stay calm.”

He was silent for a moment. “Their...their mate? Are you accepting me?” he choked out.

“Knowing how my my heart needs you....it would only be torture to the both of us if I didn’t,” you said, “I’m so sorry for how I treated you...I was just so scared.”

“I have my mate now...that’s all that matters,” he said before leaning down and kissing you.

It was like something in your soul was set on fire as he kissed you. The feeling of having his lips on yours, though in your injured state, somehow made you feel alive. If you could’ve you would’ve stayed like that for as long as possible, but that wasn’t the case.

A small shriek caused you to break apart and you saw a flustered Sora, trying to make her way out the bathroom. “Sorry, sorry...I just came to check on you....sorry.”

“Get out....” Minseok said, a growl rumbling through his chest.

“Out...gone, bye...” she said, running from the room leaving you amused and Minseok annoyed.

It was late before Yixing came back to heal your wounds enough so that he was sure you wouldn’t open any if you moved around in your sleep. You could see how drained he really was by now and you felt awful that your body was healing and he was as drained as he was.

“Please don’t look at me like that, Y/N. Your body is at a point where it can do the rest of the healing by itself....I just need a couple days of doing nothing and lots of food,” he said, “Now...Eunha is going to be bringing you in some clothes and then since Kris dragged Minseok out to hunt would you be okay with one of the other pack members helped you to his room?”

“No that’s fine...” you said.

“All right,” he said before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Eunha soon entered holding some clothes and help you dress. “I figured you and I were about the same size,” she said as you leaned against her as she helped you with the pajama pants, “Although, I’m sure you’ve just be happy with an oversized t-shirt.”

“I’d be fine with just crawling in be and going to sleep,” you joked.

A smirk came to her lips as she looked at you. “We can’t have that...there’s a big bad wolf who would want nothing more than to devour you if he saw you had been placed in his bed without any pajamas.”

You gulped, your thoughts going back to how you felt during the last mating season. Your wants and needs for Minseok...your mate...the wolf you are fated to be with. 

Eunha must’ve picked up on the vibe because she let out a small chuckle. “He’ll have you soon enough...you need to be completely healed first. But if at any point he gets impatient and starts humping your leg just yell for me, Juhee, Sora, or Hana and we’ll take care of him.” She finished dressing you and called for Tao. “Tao helped rescue you, you remember him right?”

“Yes...thank you so much,” you said, causing him to give you a warm smile.

“My pleasure...I’m going to carry you to Minseok’s room, alright?” he said. You nodded and he walked over and picked you up and carried you from the bathroom and down the hall. 

It was quiet except for a couple of voices drifting through the house. Most of the wolves, you figured, were out on the hunt that Kris had dragged Minseok out on. Quiet was okay though...you knew that it wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

Tao kicked open a door with his foot and you were hit with a wall of Minseok’s scent. He set you down on the bed and tucked you in. “Just yell if you need something.”

“Thank you, Tao.” you said.

He gave a small nod before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. You snuggled further into the bed, letting Minseok’s scent wash over you lulling you to sleep.

~Minseok~

No surprise as soon as they walked in the house, the serious vibe that was used during hunting was gone and everyone was back to being their rowdy selves.

“Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun! Control yourselves,” Hana snapped at the two wolves who were currently wrestling in the living room. Hearing his mate’s tone, Chanyeol immediately let Baekhyun out of the headlock he had him in and sat on the couch. “Y/N is sleeping and she needs all the rest she can get to heal, if you wake her up, I swear on my ancestors graves you both will be sleeping outside.”

“You’re not the boss of-,” Baekhyun started, but seeing the look on Hana’s face he backed down, “Yes ma’am...

“Completely understood,” Chanyeol added.

“Good boys,” she said.

“How long has she been asleep?” Minseok questioned.

“I took her to your room a little over an hour ago,” Tao replied.

“You what?” he questioned lowly.

“Yixing was to weak to carry her...so he asked me to do it,” Tao replied, “He also asked Y/N if she minded and she did not. I set her on your bed, tucked her in, and left.”

Though Minseok wasn’t happy that another wolf had put his hands on his mate, he would let it slide this time and headed upstairs. He wasn’t there to do it, Yixing was too weak to at the time, Tao was available...the territorialness that he felt constantly would subside once Y/N was marked. Minseok knew that...everyone in the house knew that too and would just have to reason with him for now. That didn’t make it any easier.

He opened his bedroom door and stopped at the sight. Chanyeol...Junmyeon...Yixing...hell even Kris had bragged how the littlest thing could seem so much more beautiful when their mate was involved. He never believed it until now; Y/N was curled up on the bed, the moon shining through the window hitting her face as she slept soundly. It was a simple moment...one that he most likely would have ignored any other time, but she looked so beautiful.

After doing his after hunt routine he crawled into bed, carefully pulling her close to him and kissing her forehead. “I will never let anything like that happen to you again....”

To be continued...

#kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #werewolf!au #lunar mark #xiumin #kim minseok #suho #kim junmyeon #lay #zhang yixing #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #chanyeol #park chanyeol #chen #kim jongdae #d.o. #do kyungsoo #kai #kim jongin #oh sehun #sehun #luhan #lu han #kris wu #huang zitao #tao

[thelostcatpodcast]

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 1: EPISODE 8: THE HALF A CAT

SEASON 1: EPISODE 8: THE HALF A CAT

Episode released 6th October 2014

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/episode-8-the-half-a-cat

You own a broom. You bought this broom ten years ago and you have had its head replaced three times and its handle twice. The question goes: is it same broom you bought anymore? The answer, I have come to understand is: who cares?

THE LOST CAT PODCAST, BY A P CLARKE EPISODE 8: THE HALF A CAT.

It all started with half a cat. My friend and I had climbed out her window one morning to have some coffee and there, in the middle of the street, was half a cat.

It was the back half, cut very neatly almost directly down its middle. It had dark tortoiseshell fur, a long bushy tail, and no front.

“Oh no!” said my friend. “That’s not your cat is it?”

“No,” I said. “It’s different.”

“Come on then, ” she said, and leapt down to the street. She still had her cup in her hand. She didn’t spill a drop. She is cool, and she is always running towards things.

I didn’t really want to go look at the half a cat. I have come to learn that things that start like this do not often end well. But I have also learnt that that it is always better to follow my friend when she runs towards things. Otherwise people like me, who too often run away from things, would not have any fun at all. So I follow her as she runs towards things. I do reserve the right to grumble while doing it though.

I clambered down and we approached the half a cat.

“Really?” I said. “A half a cat?”

“Pessimist!” she called back.

A small pool of blood gathered around where its middle ended.

“The cut looks so clean,” she said, hunched over its guts.

“Don’t touch it,” I said.

“The blood is barely sticky,” she continued. “This hasn’t been here long at all.”

I looked away from her poking the half a cat and that is when I saw the trail of blood, leading off down the street towards the new forest.

‘Oh no’, I thought to myself.

But I told my friend. I had to. She looked at the trail of blood leading away and her eyes widened.

“Oh my god!” she said. “We *have* to!”

“Really?” I said.

She picked up the half a cat in an old blanket and we followed the trail of blood.

“So we can bury it,” she said.

Two streets away the road gives out to grass, and then forest. It is quiet in there, peaceful. Sometimes you can find a church. We followed the blood deeper in.

And we came to a small clearing. There were thick brambles all around. The blood came to a stop at the centre of the clearing and there was the front half of a cat. This half a cat had cream coloured fur with patches of orange.

I thought: ‘What the hell?’

There was a rustling from the brambles. We looked up.

“Oh no,” I said.

And then the brambles exploded as a huge pale shape burst from it. We both of us leapt away but the creature landed on me and vicious sharp teeth went into my right hand. I struggled but it was so immensely strong and heavy.

Then a huge branch smacked off its head. The creature turned it bloody face towards its new enemy and my friend smacked it one again. It fell from me and then ran off into the brambles. Within moments the clearing was entirely quiet once more. My friend lowered the branch. She looked over to me, lying on the ground.

“You ok?” she said, looking down.

“I…don’t know,” I answered.

She came over and said: “here, give me your hand.”

So I raised my arm and discovered my hand was gone at my wrist. There was nothing but a ragged stump, slowly pulsing blood.

We looked at it.

“Really?” I said.

My friend wrapped it in the blanket and tied it off so tight the bleeding stopped. My friend is good like that. We went to find a doctor. But, back on the street, the day was not done with us.

We saw a dog walk past us, heading East. It’s back half was a Dobermann. It’s front was an Alsatian. You could see the join running up the centre of its body. Rapidly over-taking it was a little terrier with six legs.

We heard a buzzing and looked up to see a huge centipede flying over us on hundreds of bee wings. We closed our mouths, looked away, and saw a fox with the front half of a mole instead of a face.

They all were heading East.

My friend turned to me with that look on her face and said: “look, how’s your arm?”

It was numb. It wasn’t bleeding. It was fine. We followed the animals.

Winding down the streets to the valley. Along the river to the castle.

It was never a very big castle, but it had a turret. All the animals approached it. And so did we. My friend did the knocking, which was gracious.

And a young man opened the door, with a big scraggle of blonde hair on his head and a light smile on his face.

“Hello!” he said, brightly. And then he saw my arm and said, “oh my. Please: come in.”

The inside of the castle was one huge room. You could see right to the top of the turret from below. Cupboards and tables lined the sides, a very comfortable looking chair-set sat right in the middle and everywhere was cushions, blankets and mats.

The man took some bandages from a cupboard and began treating my wound. As he did so all the animals began filing in, heading to favourite cushions and spots on the floor.

The man said: “It is meal time, for my animals.”

My friend gasped and ran over to them.

“Look!” she said. “This one’s half a squirrel!”

“These are yours, then?”

“All mine. They are my life’s work.”

My friend said: “BUNNIES!”

“Who are you?”

“Do please forgive me. My name is Doctor Eolai, and I fix broken things.”

He went around the room, giving food to different animals. He said: “I trained to be a neurosurgeon at first. Scans and tests and endless debates about where consciousness truly resides. Dissections and autopsies and dead things. I found no use in it. I wanted to help, so my research took me elsewhere.”

He pointed out certain of the animals as he fed them:

“A healthy dog, run down in its prime, is of no use, so I fix it. A cat who is blind is no use, so I give it eyes.  A caterpillar can not get to the next garden in a city full of walls, so I give it wings. They are all my little Frankensteins.” He finished with a smile.

“I’m not sure you can just mix and match like that,” I said.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “They seem happy.”

“Well yes, but they’re just animals. They’re not people, you know? I mean, like Frankenstein is the name of the doctor, not the monster.”

And doctor Eolai pulled down the neck of his shirt, and revealed a line of stitched scar tissue running right around his neck.

“I try to be of use,” he said.

But I saw something pass over his face just then, and his affirmation was tinged with a sadness.

“What’s wrong?”

“It has failed. Just once. A terrible mistake. I created a monster. My animals were out, just now, trying to find him.”

“Tell us,” said my friend, who had come over to join us, feeling the shift in tone.

“It is a sad tale,” said the doctor, but I will tell you. “Perhaps you would like to sit down first, maybe have a glass of wine.”

“Yes please,” said my friend.

So Doctor Eolai, my friend and I sat in the chairs at the centre of the castle, surrounded by dozing animals, and we drank a glass of wine.

<music begins: Bright Was The Day, written and performed by A P Clarke>

The sun shone down and it lit your hair like fire

long ago, far away, bright was the day.

So loud, the singing and shouting in the square

all day long, sing the new songs

and then the rain came over the mountains

and the wind came in from the sea

and we ran back through gathering gloom

up all the stairs to your room

and the bed where we lay

oh bright was the day.

And I swear I don’t remember the reasons why I left

the years do fade, but my mind still strays

after I put the children to bed.

I guess that I did not believe what you believed

to your war! My red-haired warrior!

But then men came and blocked off the square

and then men came with masks on their faces

and guns pointed in to the crowd

that moved like a wave, then turned into smoke and then drifted away

and I watched every night on the news for your face

and I find I have nothing to say

these days when I hear those songs play

long ago and far away

bright was the day.

Dr Eolai said: “Recently I brought a man back. He had been sickly, and refused treatment. I gave him a strong body. But after a moment’s elation when he awoke, his countenance turned to fear. He stared in the mirror at himself and then he stared at his hands. Then he screamed and tore himself to pieces, ripping at his limbs, his chest, his face. He opened his ribcage and crushed his own heart. I found new pieces and tried again, but the same cold horror gripped him. He ran through the castle, screaming. He climbed the walls and threw himself from the roof, dashing his brains upon the rocks.

“I rebuilt him, and tied him down before waking him.

“He raged and pulled at the bonds for a day and a night. Finally exhaustion humbled him enough for me to speak with him.

“ ‘Why do you rage?’ I asked ‘Why do you tear at yourself? What is wrong? How can I help?’

“ ‘I am monster,’ said the man. ‘I am damned.’

“ ‘You are wholly yourself. You are fit.’

“ ‘You have changed me. You have perverted me.’

“ ‘I have given you legs where before you had none. A strong back. Good lungs. You are working excellently.’

“ ‘Do you not see? Do you not see what you have taken?’

“ ‘I do not.’

“The man strapped to the table said: ‘I am not me. I have lost my soul.’

“And he struggled at the binds with a sudden ferocity, and with a final heave broke the whole table from its base. He knocked me clear across the room and fled.”

The doctor finished his wine as he said this.

“It is a failure such as I have never known. This poor man truly believed he had lost something, and nothing I could do could persuade him otherwise. Convinced of this loss he could only see himself as a monster, a half-whole abomination. As a result he was violent, destructive, brutal. As he said: damned.

“What can be done to fix a man who believes he is broken?

“He ran from the castle, taking my very favourite cat with him.”

I said: “We know where he is.”

“You do?”

“I held up my arm.”

“Yes,” I said.

“We must end this,” said the doctor. “I must go to him. Will you take me?”

“My friend stood up. Come on. We’re going to help the doctor.”

“I really don’t feel I want to go,” I sighed.

My friend sighed. “OK, I understand. we’ll put it to a vote. Hands up who doesn’t think we should go.”

I raised my arm.

And off we went with the doctor to find the monster in the new forest.

The dogs and cats and animals followed us, and as a group we headed to the clearing. The clearing was peaceful and bright. We peered into the brambles. The doctor stepped forwards.

“I am here!” he said.

There was a rustling.

“I am here to help! Will you speak with me?”

“YOU DAMNED ME!” came a cry from above, and the figure burst down from the branches.

He went straight for the doctor. He raised his arm to bring it down upon the doctor’s head, but every single animal leapt upon it and began biting down. The figure roared and spun around. The animals bit right through his arm and, as he span, it tore off and flew across the clearing to land with a thud behind us.

The figure fell to a knee and steadied itself with its one arm as the dogs and cats and more swarmed over him, and then my friend and I, holding branches in the hands we had, smacked him over the head.

He stayed up for three hits, roaring, then moaning, then sighing, and then nothing. He was unconscious, and the animals left his body to stand again around the doctor.

The figure and its arm was wrapped in cloth and the dogs dragged it back to the castle.

“I am sorry,” said Doctor Eolai to the unconscious mass as we went. “I am truly sorry.”

“What will you do with him?” I asked, as we arrived back at the castle.

“Keep him comfortable, keep him safe, take what precautions I can against him hurting anyone else, or himself. Perhaps I can talk him around.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“I will do what I can. For example, I could fix that, if you like.”

He was looking at my arm.

“Really?”

“Yes. Well, I have an arm just come free,” he said.

And I said: “go for it.”

He sewed it on while I drank wine and my friend played with the animals.

“Thank you,” I said, moving it about.

“That is my pleasure.”

“Sorry about your favourite cat,” said my friend.

“It is sad, but there are always more cats to bring back to usefulness around here. I will say this though: I have a good understanding of the animals that die in this area. Your cat is not here. I do not believe your cat is dead.”

“Well that’s good news,” said my friend, and gave my hand a squeeze.

“We should probably be getting on,” I said.

“Do visit as often as you like,” said the doctor.

And as we were leaving my friend said: “I have to ask – one of my friends was convinced the pineal gland was the doorway in the brain between the physical and the spiritual. Do you know anything about this?”

“Ha,” he said. “The only thing I know about the pineal gland is that it tastes like asparagus.”

We closed the door and went home.

And so there you have it. To answer the question more fully as to whether a broom is the same broom I would say now it is better to ask the question of why you bought a broom in the first place. Spending all your time on its ontological status will only leave the floors unswept.

So at the end of that day I made a commitment to be a bit more useful, or to at least clean the kitchen more often, and went, finally, to bed.

THIS HAS BEEN EPISODE 8 OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE. COPYRGHT 2014

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING

Links

thelostcat.libsyn.com

twitter.com/LostCatPod

thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com

facebook.com/lostcatpodcast

soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast

apclarke.bandcamp.com/releases

[mythvoiced]

# for Yeoshin pls ;W;

@jeoseungsaja | cell phone headcanons

—

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone While Shin absolutely gives off the vibes of an elderly man who'd overuse emojis the MOMENT he'd figure out how to use them at all, I think for Yeo's contact it'd simply say 'My love' ('simply', i say, as if i didn't have to settle on 'my love' because the poetry he'd otherwise put wouldn't FIT)

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone I saw this one on Yeo's pinboard and I LOVE YEO & FLOWERS but also the idea of Shin maybe clumsily snapping a lil pic of sleeby Yeo, pretend the background isn't white, but rather a field of flowers, that'd be his contact pic

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone i was actually struggling here bc i lowkey ;;;; wanted to pic something from the playlist you made~~ BUT I ALSO felt that might be lazy or like stealing your WORK ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; so i kept MUSING and have reached the following conclusion.... from now on by the allmighty shinee ;W; i won't link it because as LOCAL SHINEE EXPERT i trust you're familiar >:333333333333333

- my muse’s last text to your muse [ txt | My love | 11:12AM ] Have you had

[ txt | My love | 11:12AM ] Breakfast yet

[ txt | My love | 11:13AM ] ?

#;ooc #jeoseungsaja #the goblin;kim shin #the length of my life becomes apparent when i realise how much of it we spent apart;verse 4 wang yeo & kim shin #a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo #shin double triple quadruple texting because he keeps accidentally sending the mssg he's working on is just #ONE of the many 'shin can't text' headcanons i shall be working on >:3 #ALEX MOST ADORED ALEX I LOVE YOU SO? I HOPE THIS IS OKAY FKLHGFHKLGHGFKJLHJGK THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR #YEETING THIS MY WAY AND KNOW YEOSHIN inventors of historically deep love ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; #;answered