#drew the rest bad so its under lock and key forever

[jeonghag]

DAZED

#seventeen #svt fanart #woozi #lee jihoon #drew the rest bad so its under lock and key forever

[whumperfect]

Wheels, Part 1

Hey guys! This is my first “published” story whump!! This is the Part 1 of the story, you can find part two here, part three here and part four here! Please read and feel free to share! I wrote this in collaberation with @99point9percentwhump!

That landing was effortless, Roman thought to himself, beaming with pride as he looked to his skater mates hanging out on top of the mini vert, who applauded.

“Nice job, Roman, but we’re gonna bounce.” Shouted one of the onlookers. And after a pause: “you coming?”

He thought about it for a second, his eyes wandering up to the fluffy white clouds that hugged the baby blue horizon. “Nah too nice a day.”

“Too damn hot is more like it,” chuckled his excited viewers, leaving the concrete park and the loan skater to their own devices.

Roman shrugged his shoulders as he watched his friends disappear behind the tattered gate. A rusted sign read; ‘KEEP OUT unless the gate is unlocked’. Not that that stopped kids breaking in, anyways. Roman took his board to the top of the park and let the sun melt into his clothes, his arms, his face. What a truly magnificent afternoon it was. This was his favorite kind of weather: in the dead of summer, with humidity and heat pounding into him like rain on asphalt.

The town all around him looked like it was straight out of the darkest part of Hollywood. The streets were littered with people and trash, and all around the buildings were carved out of stone and built out of brick. The look achieved was somewhat old, like a western film plopped into the middle of the mountains. Boom Town was a place old people moved to and young people moved from. As soon as the students graduated from the dilapidated high school, they hit the road and hoped to never return. As it was, many that graduated later described a supernatural- like pull that led them home. Roman didn’t believe it for a second and knew that as soon as he left, he was never coming back.

He dropped his board on the hot concrete and rested his foot upon it, breathing the scalding air into his lungs. Hopping on his board, he let the wind flow through his hair as he took a couple of laps around the pipes, diagonals, and runs that had been carved into the hill above Boom Town. He was just getting started.

Roman tugged his board back to the top of the hill, already warmed up and ready to start practicing more tricks. His friends were long gone and he relished in the silence of the mountains. Here, the oly noise were the songbirds passing overhead in their playful circles, and the occasional rustle of the breeze in the pine trees above the skate park. Pretty soon, as summer turned into fall, thousands of honking geese would disturb the silence; but not now.

As Roman cruised the drop, he hooked his board with his toe and flipped it, landing hard but safely. Cruising up the other side, and coming to a stop at the top, Roman couldn’t help but glue a wide smile to his face. This was what he was meant to do. There was no purpose, in this moment, other than the connection between his feet and the graffiti board.

Tipping his torso and his board forward once more, Roman soared down the halfpipe. He flipped his board at the bottom, and while the jump had been smooth, the landing was anything but. Catching a crack that had long been in need of repair, Roman spun out of control quickly. One moment he was flying, and the next he was lying on the ground, his cheek pressed into the hard asphalt, pain sizzling up and down the right side of his body. His board was completely still, lying on its side a couple of feet away. He blinked.

Must’ve blacked out, he thought, slowly urging himself to sit. How long had it been? A minute, max. He rubbed his head and winced when his hand brushed his cheek. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he examined his face with care. It looked worse than it was, he told himself. There were a couple of long, shallow scratches stretching from his cheekbone to just below the corner of his mouth, and already a dark welt was forming near his eye. It was beginning to swell, too.

Roman examined his arm and leg, too, which both had a series of deep cuts running along them. They were painful, but even so Roman forced himself to stand. As he righted himself, dark spots took over his vision, and he swayed, struggling to stay upright. Come on, Roman, it’s not that bad. Don’t be such a girl.  He tightened his jaw and walked slowly to his board.

He picked it up.

Tenderly scraping the dust off of the wheels and the top, he then proceeded to make his way again to the top of the halfpipe. He breathed in. Out. He let the hot air wash over him like a wave of steam. He let the pain roll off of him in vibrational waves. He let the birdsong enter his mind and cleanse it. He let the gritty texture of the board scrape against his arms and fingers. He let the breeze blow his blonde hair into his eyes and out again. He let the moment sink in. And then, he dropped his board to the concrete, fought through the sea of nausea, and rolled down the halfpipe at a leisurely pace.

Ahead, the gentle blue skies birthed ominous storm clouds.

When the rain started, Roman was halfway down the hill. The blood had been oozing out of his cuts steadily and showed few signs of stopping. His right eye had swollen deeply, and a plum purple color-tinted his eyelids and brow. The rain washed his sweat away.

Trying to stand upright while fighting the nausea that was rolling in his belly, he staggered downhill, which was a feat in itself. But feeling the cooling rain on his skin helped him feel more alive than he had a few minutes before. He glanced towards his destination; the parking lot at the foot of the hill, which seemed like an impossibly long journey.

Thoughts of how he was going to get home without having to explain what happened to him were haunting him. These tremulous ideas, which included questions of how to call his friends for a ride, were interrupted as a familiar guitar rift erupted from the deep hidden cargo pocket on his shorts.

“My phone! I have my phone!” Reaching to his pant pocket and retrieving the ringing device he couldn’t tell if his legs gave out, or if he had tripped over his own feet. Regardless, the grassy incline came up to meet him, and the feeling of falling and rolling downwards was all he knew before his world once again went black.

Pain greeted him as consciousness slowly returned, followed by his internal alarm system. The shooting pressure in his chest signaled warning signs that screamed: “I can’t breathe!” Thrashing about on the hard ground, he rolled himself onto his side with the little energy he had left. Gasping as the air returned to his lungs and the red hot pain in his body receded, Roman rested his heavy head on the grass and closed his eyes. Maybe the crash had been a little bit worse than he had originally thought.

With a crash, the nausea returned to his stomach, eliminating any relief he had felt moments before. Roman groaned and crawled to his feet, swaying, then steadying himself carefully. I have to get home. Thoughts pushed his feet forward.

The rain fell faster.

Every beat against him was like an echo of his racing heart. Even when he thought it impossible for his heart to beat louder, or faster, it would. Faster. Louder. Louder, faster. Fasterfasterfaster it seemed to race as Roman picked his way down the hill. The hill seemed to stretch out before him forever, the parking lot continuously running away from his reach.

Finally, he arrived, breathing heavily, his body’s sweat masked by the pouring rain. Thunder cracked. Moments later, lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the darkened streets with an eerie glow. His house, only blocks away from the skate park, seemed like miles away as Roman wandered down the twisting streets. Nobody was outside, the windows were all shut and the curtains tightly drawn. Even the trash that littered the streets seemed to rest in silent fury, watching Roman as he passed slowly by.

His house was the third one down the street, on the left, tucked between a towering square right house and a dilapidated wooden house, whose paint job had chipped long ago, and in which no one lived inside. Walking up the steps, Roman caught himself on the railing, dizzy. His head swam as he retrieved the key from under the carpet and unlocked the door.

Safe from the torrential downpour outside, Roman shook his head free of raindrops and pulled off his shoes. His board he deposited in the entryway, and silently he tiptoed to his room. Nobody else was home. He hoped.

Using all the effort he could muster, Roman crawled his way up to the second floor. A wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him as he reached the top. Just barely catching himself on the railing, Roman hunched over himself, his breath heaving, fighting the urge to throw up.

Letting the wave a nausea pass, Roman slowly found his way to the half bath near his room. Still not positive if anybody was home, Roman made sure to make as little noise as possible as he closed and locked the bathroom door behind him. Roman gently eased the bathroom door shut, and in the pitch black of the room, he reached blindly for the light switch. Managing to stub his toe soundly on the vanity cabinet along the way, he doubled over in pain again, groaning, once again resisting the overwhelming urge to uproot his insides.

Cursing under his breath, Roman managed to locate the light switch. The bathroom instantly illuminated in a blinding light. Closing his eyes and keeping them screwed shut, Roman supported himself on the bathroom counter and blindly searched for bath cloths and bandages for his cuts and bruises. Slowly, Roman drew his t-shirt over his face, dropping it in a bloody pile on the bathroom floor. Opening the mirror cabinet, he reached for the largest bottle of painkilling medicine, downing five of them in one large swallow.

Turning, Roman tried to look at the wounds on his arm in the mirror. Wincing, Roman uncapped the hydrogen peroxide bottle and poured it down his arm. It flowed into the semi-coagulated scrapes, causing small shooting pains to dig into his body. He grunted, clenching his teeth and doing his best to focus on anything but the pain. Roman cursed out loud, and then clenched his jaw. He had forgotten to remain quiet, and hoped to God no one was home.

Whimpering, he poured the rest of the bottle on his cuts. Only after the bottle was empty did he notice that he had bitten through his lip. He stumbled to the toilet, wrenched the lid open, and lost his lunch in the toilet bowl.

#whumpfic #whumpedit #whump #whumpwriting #roman #skatingwhump #skaters #skateboard #hospital #headinjury #sick #collapsed #worried #caretakers #originalwriting #whumpstory #whumpcommunity

[shnuggletea]

I realize many of you have already read this on either FF or AO3 but in case you read on Tumblr only, here it is!

Heads up, these ANs are a repeat of STYH so if already read that one, feel free to skip these! Working on a few modern day ones but they're not quite ready yet.

So, I have a few fics to chose from for next and I was assured these were wanted to be heard. Or rather read. Please keep in mind, the sequel to Bad Karma, Terrible Fate, and Cell Mates isn't on this list because they will be posted next along with the ones I'm listing here for consideration. I like to do a cannon based fic and an AU in tandem when posting. Or try to anyway, I'm also still posting for SM and working on originals so this might get a back seat from time to time.

So here's what I got (none of these are finished yet but close):

The Shogan's Daughter: Kagome agrees to marry a man, sight unseen so that her village falls under his protection. With a steady rice supply and a few soldiers to protect them, she leaves home and enters the house of one Inuyasha Tenoe. Married life is made so much more difficult with enemy threats hoping to take Tenoe's title from him, ex-lovers weakening Kagome's resolve, and falling in love with your husband no matter how hard you try not to. Set in a Feudal Japan.

Beautiful Hell (working title): She was free. It almost killed her but she had escaped and now she just had to stay out of the dark clutches of her former king. And not be discovered for what she was by the new one. Too bad the Prince is a glutton for punishment, meeting the fiery Kagome, and doing what? Putting her in his harem of course! The setting is a made-up world but hints at Arabic tones.

Hidden Demons: Kagome was doing as commanded, going deep into the Vragoli territory and entering the fabled Crnac Mountains. But she is there to ensure peace, wanting nothing more than to keep her home, Fatamorgora from any more attacks. Her first time in Nema Dusa and yet, the King feels so familiar. Confused, she'll have plenty of time to figure it out, or will she? Her mind slipping all around with dreams that feel more like memories of a past she never had! The setting is made-up here as well but similar to The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings kind of vibes.

All of these are romances and have lemons btw. Let me know what you guys think?

Possible trigger warning with some violence towards a child! I didn't go into detail or anything graphic but just know poor Shippo gets beat up.

FF HERE

AO3 HERE

Chapter Nine

Ever since she started eating with them, Kagome had sat next to Shippo. But as Miroku's 'bitch' she now had to sit next to him. And let him wrap an arm around her from time to time. But when he tried to touch her ass, she drew the line there.

"Cut that out!"

He smirked with a devilish glint in his eyes. "Lovers touch, Kagome."

"Except, we aren't actually lovers?!"

"And we don't want everyone knowing that now do we?"

He had a point and it would all be pointless if it didn't look like they were a couple of sorts. Resigning herself to getting touched, she closed her eyes tight. "Fine. Just don't take liberties."

It wasn't that she found Miroku unattractive. He was a very good looking man. But he was a friend. If he ever confessed to her, she would give him the same answer she gave Koga. She was pretty sure Miroku felt the same about her but that didn't mean he wasn't a horny bastard, taking advantage of the situation.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she waited to feel her butt getting accosted and only felt a chill across her skin. Miroku was laughing when she opened her eyes again, even though Inuyasha had his hand twisted back to Miroku's chest in a painful-looking position.

"Hey Buddy. I've been looking for you."

She had never heard Inuyasha call anyone so much as 'friend' let alone 'Buddy'. His tone was clear he wasn't there to be friendly. "Hey, Inuyasha. You were looking for me?"

"Yeah, we need to chat," Inuyasha said, twisting Miroku's hand a little more.

"I'm in the middle of something here, in case you didn't notice?"

She glanced towards Shippo who just shrugged. The rest of the table was ignoring the duo, must be business as usual for the two. They had never done it around her before though so she struggled to see the humor in it. Miroku was still chuckling as if it was the greatest joke of all time.

"Alright, just give me one second," Miroku leaned around Inuyasha to look back at her, "pardon me, dear, I'll be back in just a moment. Then we can get to you bearing my child as we discussed."

She was feeling very uncomfortable with the conversation but Inuyasha steered Miroku away swiftly after that. They didn't go out of eyesight, just earshot. If anyone was listening, she couldn't tell, every time she glanced over, they were in some kind of heated discussion and those around them focused on their food. Kagome didn't pretend to know what they were talking about but Shippo chuckled from time to time as he listened.

Looking his way, she wanted to see if Koga was listening to anything going on. When she found his eyes staring back at her, she quickly turned her head to look anywhere else. Given the fire his eyes held, he had heard about her new 'relationship' and wasn't pleased. But, since it was Miroku, then she should be fine from now on since everyone was terrified of Miroku's cursed hand. Even with the runes in place, his hand was still sealed up, giving many the impression he could rip the runes on his hand off and use it on them.

Shippo chuckled again and it made her smile, as well as get curious. "What is it?"

"Miroku enjoys messing with Inuyasha too much." He said through his laughter.

Looking back again, Inuyasha's face was red. If she were to guess, he had pulled at his hair in irritation at some point while Miroku was still calm and smirking. Whatever was going on, Shippo and Miroku enjoyed it a little too much.

Lunch over, they all progressed to the yard for free time, only she was swept up by an anxious Kagura. "Kagome. I need a Doctor."

Rushed but silent, Kagura was oddly quiet as they speed-walked to the infirmary. Her eyes danced to the door when she left it open. With haste and care, so to not look too eager to shut them out, Kagome shut and locked the door. The guards had a key but it still gave a sense of privacy.

Kagura had yet to still, pacing the length of the infirmary while she pulled her wheeled stool out and waited. She already had a feeling what this was about. After all, she did consider sticking to the maternity ward after her rotation there.

After several more minutes of agitated pacing, Kagome caved. "Kagura, there's no point in worrying until you know for sure. Right?"

A small amount of calm washed over the demoness, enough to get her to sit at least. Kagome rolled up to her side and placed a comforting hand on her knee. "I'm late."

"How late?"

"...a month?"

She kept her face stoic, her bedside manner training coming into play with this one. "That's pretty late, Kagura. Any symptoms?"

"Demons don't really have 'symptoms' with pregnancy. Not like humans that is."

Irritation was clear in Kagura's tone. But she had a point as Kagome was clearly not adept to Demons and their differences. "Alright. Teach me. Tell me what it's like to be a pregnant demon?"

"Nausea, having to piss all the time, pimples, and whatever else you humans get, we don't get any of that shit. Instead, we feel it."

"Feel it?"

"Feel it growing. I can feel it growing and moving inside me. I'm sure I'm pregnant even without any tests. Demons have never needed them in the past and frankly, I'm not sure it would even work." Kagura had a point there. "So all I really need to know is… can you get rid of it?"

This time, Kagome didn't hide her shock. "Wha… you want to terminate the pregnancy? Why? It's Sesshomaru's right? You two seem like you'd go through hell and back for one another, surely he wouldn't mind having a child with you or you him?"

Jumping up, Kagura went back to pacing. "Like that even matters?! Look where we are Kagome! Open those big, pretty teal eyes of yours and pay attention! We're in prison! One designed to suck the life out of everything and one inside it. This isn't a vacation, you're never going back to your old life, Doctor! And I don't even remember my life before this place, it's been so fucking long."

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves because that was a lot to unpack. "I know this is my home forever… but we have to keep living, Kagura. We can't let them break us. That would be letting them win."

Kagura pulled at her perfect hair, mussing it up beyond repair. "I know that! But what choice do I have?" She fell to her knees before Kagome, grabbing up her hands in a tight grip. "Please, Kagome. They will only take my baby away and do whatever they want to it! To them, we're just vermin and a baby of Sesshomaru's would be experimented on for as long as it lived. Which wouldn't be long with all they would do to it. It doesn't deserve that, that life."

Conceding, she had no choice but to agree with Kagura. But there was only one problem. "I have nothing to terminate a pregnancy with here. And if I ask…"

"They'll make you tell them who. FUCK!"

Kagura was pacing again and Kagome jumped to her feet to stop her. "Do you want this baby? If you weren't in here and its life wasn't threatened, would you have it?" Kagura nodded hard, "We still have some time. I'll do all that I can to help you. Something will have to change and I refuse to let your child suffer. Trust me, Kagura."

oOo

It had been three days since Kagura had come to her and Kagome could focus on nothing else. How the hell was she going to save Kagura's baby? Kagome didn't have a clue but she wasn't about to just stand around while an innocent life was taken. And Kagura wanted the baby, she just didn't want her child to suffer. It was a terrible place to be, unable to protect your own child.

Everyone was coming back from 'work' and Kanna was milling her way through the crowd. Ever since the day in the yard with Naraku, Kanna and Shippo had gotten...closer. They worked in different places but met up on their way back every day now.

Which was why it was strange to see Kanna alone.

"Kanna? Where's Shippo?"

She shrugged, her face as neutral as always. "He told me to go without him."

"He did?" That was weird, Shippo likes having a friend and spending time with them.

"No, someone else told me for him."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something wasn't right. Kanna didn't react but Kagome didn't expect her to. "Go on to your room."

"You mean cell…"

"Whatever, just go!"

Spinning on her heel, Kagome ran as hard as her human legs allowed and then pushed harder. The laundry room was in her sights when she heard it. Once again, her experience served her and she really wished she was wrong.

Rounding the corner, she saw a group of wolves circled around something, beating it. Staggering forward, she quickly saw that the something was Shippo.

"No! STOP!"

She flung her body at them, trying to get inside and to Shippo who was a quivering mass of blood and swollen flesh. They laughed and shoved her back, only to continue. She tried again and got tossed, hitting one of the washing machines hard before hitting the floor just as hard. Now she crawled, using her palms on the cold floor to drag herself towards one of the wolves. He didn't seem to notice as she took hold of his leg. But he did notice when she bit down on the back of his ankle as hard as she could.

"AHHH!" He kicked her off hard and the others turned on her with him. "You stupid bitch!"

Another grabbed the one she bit by the shoulder. "Koga said she's off-limits. Just her friends."

She wished she could say she was surprised. Koga was attacking her friends to get to her. "You can tell Koga to fuck off!"

They glanced at one another and then returned to their advance on her. At least they now left Shippo alone. That comforted her as fear shivered up her spine. They could smell it, smell her fear. It was why they kicked her lips she was sure. Their auras flickered, staying the same orangey-pink but flashing the closer they got to her. Was this what an aura did when malicious intent was planned? Naraku's didn't flash but his was so dark, she was sure it only sucked in light, not let any out.

They bent down to her and one had their hand around her throat when they were all ripped off and back. There were growls all around, some from the wolves but most from Inuyasha as he stood protectively over her. Miroku pushed them back more with his fist and then his hand, holding it up while keeping the palm hidden in his clenched fingers.

"Don't make me use this!" He screamed.

They coward but recovered. "You wouldn't!"

"Yeah, you'd suck up your friends too!"

Miroku shrugged, "the runes knock off some of my power. Enough to keep them safe while sucking you assholes up!"

They stepped back with that and she didn't know if it was the truth or not. But they believed it so it was enough for her.

With Inuyasha and Miroku here, her attention went back to Shippo. His ragged breaths fogged up the floor he laid on, his fur matted with blood. "Oh, Shippo."

Crawling again, she made it to his side while Miroku and Inuyasha wrangled the wolves out of the room. Before they were completely gone, Inuyasha grabbed one of them up. His blood-red eyes matched his aura, shining bright and fierce.

"If you or any more of your mangy mutts ever come near her again, I'll shove your nose so far up your ass you won't know whether to fart or burp for the rest of your life. Got it?"

The one in his hold nodded heavily as he was dropped to the floor to run. Then Inuyasha's eyes went to Shippo, his head now resting in Kagome's lap.

"Miroku, make sure they don't come back."

Miroku looked confused but more like he wanted to argue. But Inuyasha flashed him a warning glance, his aura nearly blinding. Which made her earlier theory of malice fall to the floor because Inuyasha had no intention of ever hurting her, that she was sure.

The three of them, he shut the door and slowly came to kneel at her side. Shippo was barely breathing.

"I should….we should get him to the infirmary...I can…" She said through her heavy sobs.

Inuyasha laid his hand heavily on her shoulder. "Kagome...there's nothing you can do."

"But he'll heal! I just have to…"

"You can't give him the time he needs."

She stared at him with watery eyes. His own hurt reflected back. No tears, but it was clear he would mourn the kitsune too.

Most people, even most doctors, would understand. They would pick themselves back up and move on, telling themselves they did all they could. Because most doctors would have already done all they could.

But she wasn't most doctors.

Placing her hands over Shippo's tiny body, she sobbed again as her cords of, for lack of a better term, magic dipped into him. She felt every break, tear, cut, and bruise the poor child had endured. He winced and whimpered when she pulled bones back together. Especially the rib that pierced his lung and when she inflated his spleen, sewing the shattered organ back together with her mind.

Her concentration was set and she had no clue what Inuyasha was doing or thinking. This was her biggest secret since she was a child but she had no regrets, not even ones of revealing herself to him.

An exhausted and satisfied sigh left her as she left Shippo alone. The outer cuts and bruises she left for appearances. The only thing that matter was Shippo would live now.

Falling back, Inuyasha caught her. "Are you okay?!" He was checking over Shippo and then glaring at her. "You did it, you healed him, didn't you?" She nodded. "Why? Why the fuck would you…" shaking her head he growled, "this is how you got caught, isn't it?!"

"He's a child…"

"He's a demon!"

Summoning strength from deep inside, she pushed up into his face and yelled. "He's a life! And my friend!" A sob bubbled up too, "and they did this to him because of me."

Inuyasha wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. "You don't belong here. You shouldn't be here at all"

She wasn't sure if he meant that in a good or bad way but his comfort was too nice to turn down, twisting until she was cradled in his hold. It caused her to brush her arm against his, pain searing through her and making her hiss.

He pulled her back, inspecting the deep cut closely. "Can't you heal yourself?"

Kagome nodded but then shook her head. "I can't. Any of them could have seen...and I'm human…"

At that, he ripped the hem of his shirt and wrapped it around her arm tight. "I'm going to kill every last one of them. And then Koga…"

"Inuyasha?" Shippo whispered, coming around.

Kagome gently pushed the Hanyou back, grabbing Shippo's little shoulders to keep him still. "Shippo! Hey buddy," she cooed, a few tears slipping free, "you're alright now."

"They...cornered me...made me tell Kanna to go without me and then started wailing on me."

"They didn't say anything? Like a message you were supposed to deliver?" Inuyasha asked his eyes on Kagome's.

"No...nothing…"

The smile on Inuyasha's face was forced so she forced one on her face as well. "You got lucky, kid. The doctor here saved your life. But you're gonna hurt for a while so take it easy."

It was then that guards showed up, looking genuinely confused either at the scene in general or that there wasn't a body or two to deal with. She was surprised they showed up at all.

oOo

Her arm was still stiff but it would be fine. Kagome had replaced Inuyasha's makeshift bandage with a real one but held onto his piece of shirt, hiding it amongst her things. The attachment she felt to a tiny shred that was his was truly telling and Kagome worried about what it said.

Just about to collapse to a gurney for the night, a knock rapted on the infirmary door. She moved slowly in part to the hour but mostly due to her aching muscles screaming at her. She should probably take something but she didn't want to waste her supplies or her gifts on herself.

Her breath caught in her throat when she opened the door and the man smirked all the more at the sound of it. "Inuyasha?"

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fandom #Kagome Higurashi #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #prison AU #sharing one bed #they were anyway #poor shippo #award nominated story continues

[bigskydreaming]

@princeescaluswords tagged me in a fanfic ask meme, and I’m loling at how few of the questions I can actually answer, because I swear I’ve literally forgotten more fandoms than most people will ever have. And I’ve probably written a good couple million words of fanfic all in total....

I know with just my first fandom alone, Roswell, I was in that one writing regularly for about three years and wrote and published probably a million words between the six or so ‘big fics’ I wrote......21 Down topped out at just over 200K, my Paradise Lost trilogy was probably a little longer as I think Genesis and Exodus were both around 80K and Revelations was probably closer to 100K. Riders of the Storm was around 120K.....Passage to Dawn I never actually finished because I scrapped it halfway through and started over.....and my revised version left off at around 50K I think, but the previous version before that had gotten up to 100K......and then I honestly can’t remember the names of my other two big fics at the moment, lmfao, I just know I had one more that was an amnesia trope fic and one that was....oh! Never mind, just remembered. The Long Dark Night of the Soul was one of my shorter ones, probably somewhere between 60-80K.

But yeah, that was just my first fandom alone......but fandom was a little different then, like in the sense that nobody was really writing posts about meta or episode or character analysis......Roswell fandom existed almost entirely on various messageboards and linked sites created by the community. It was years before Ao3 of course, and while ff.net was around, Roswell was one of those fandoms that just never congregated around it......people posting Roswell fics on ff.net were the outliers, the majority of fandom was centered around sites like roswellfanatics.net, crashdown.com and my personal site/board of choice to hang out and post at, polarattraction.com. I’m pretty sure all of those sites have been defunct for years, and I wish I’d done a better job of saving some of my own fics at least, lol. But point is, the fandom was geared just towards the writing and consumption of fanfic more than anything else......so if you were writing something, it was either a fic itself, or a comment on somebody else’s fic, lol. 

Anyway, was just reviewing my various past fandoms, the ones I could remember, and thought of Dark Angel fandom, which I haven’t thought of in forever. Which is kinda funny to me, actually, considering my focus in DA fandom was pretty much exactly my focus in Batfandom - the found family feels.

LOL. Like, I was never one of the better known writers in DA fandom given that my focus was not really the same as most of fandom’s. DA fandom was largely split into two camps locked in eternal ship war - Logan/Max and Alec/Max. I had by this time ‘evolved’ to the point of looking at this and just snobbishly intoning “I do not care for the Straightness of this all and thus I choose to Abstain from the conflict” so there was that at least.....but yeah, thing was, personally, I was in Dark Angel fandom for the found family feels. Max’s eternal search for her siblings she’d been raised with but lost track of when they escaped from Manticore as children.....like that was the good stuff, that was what drew me in and kept me under lock and key until I’d banged out a good couple years’ worth of constant fic writing about her and her siblings before I moved on.

But while Max’s search for her siblings was the catalyst and central plot of the first season of Dark Angel, fandom pretty much only ever took off with the introduction of Alec in the second season, when it became an either/or choice between Alec and Logan. And with most of the second season moving away from Max’s search for her family to focus more on the larger big-picture plots, combined with the fact that most of Max’s siblings never actually made an appearance onscreen.....understandably, they didn’t end up occupying too much of a role in most of fandoms’ fics or interests.

Anyway, like I said, I churned out a shit ton of DA fanfic in a pretty short period of time....my single most popular fic was probably one about transgenics racing to find a cure when they realize they’d been genetically engineered to all ‘expire’ by a certain age, since their creators had no use for genetically engineered super-soldiers past the prime of their lives.

But my personal fave bits of writing, and the series I reeeeeeally regret not saving and wish I could find again, like, there was this one series of one-shots (ranging from a couple thousand words long to some that were about 20-30K long) written about each of Max’s siblings.....all fifteen of them, lol. Jondy’s was the first one I wrote, and one of the first things I wrote in that fandom, and then I just added new stories to that particular series up until Jack’s, the very last one a couple years later....which I THINK was the last thing I ever wrote/posted in that fandom.

And since we only ever met about half of these characters on the show, and most of them only for an episode each, for the most part they were blank slates and the equivalent of writing OCs......and so I’ll always have a soft spot for my time in DA fandom solely because of how many people told me my version of Max’s various siblings was like, the definitive version for them and what they based their own fics or takes on her siblings on. Swoon. Like, that’s my favorite kind of compliment, especially in fanfic writing.

So that series was my Big Thing even if it wasn’t my most popular or well-known fic, and the various stories in it were weird and whimsical and largely experimental. Because part of the point of fic writing for me instead of writing original fic is its like....fanfic is often the place where I just get weird with my writing and try new things even just stylistically. See what works and what doesn’t, etc.

Anyway, kinda curious if there’s anyone out there who was in Dark Angel fandom at all to any degree, or if any of these sound familiar or if anyone remembers reading them.

Like, so Jondy was Max’s sister who we never met in canon but Max talked about often as being her favorite sibling, and her story in this series was called “Little Lightning Girl.” In it she was a stripper slash vigilante, who used her job to take note of predatory guys who then she preemptively scared away from her coworkers or ran totally out of town. I forget how it went exactly, but that one was written as though it was all her stream of consciousness, and she had to my mind a kind of chaotic, whimsical sort of nature, so there was something in there like: 

“Call me little lightning girl, for I’ve lightning in my veins. My hair is always frizzy, my steps all flicker-shimmy-shake. But when I strike, boom, clap, I’m thunder in reverse - by the time you hear the rumble, its already too late. That was you hitting the ground. Don’t hurry getting up. I can wait.”

And then Zane’s story was called “Zen and the Art of Not Breaking Your Customer’s Fucking Face (remember, its bad for business).”

Brin’s was “I Wasn’t Born Yesterday (but yesterday, I remember being very small).”

Zack’s was “Rules For When The Sky Is Falling (and this time it isn’t your fault).”

Syl’s was “The Kind of Girl You Bring Home to Meet Your Parents (when you’ve got the kind of parents that need killing).”

Ben’s was “They keep telling me I’m crazy (I say its the world that’s gone mad).”

Tinga’s was “A Storybook Kind of Princess (with a Grimm kind of happily ever after)” and Krit’s was “The Good Die Young, So Boy, You Better Be Bad.”

Kavi’s was “I Never Learned How To Play Ball (striking out comes naturally).”

Vada’s was “Chase Me To The Desert and Watch Me Live, I Bet I’ll Thrive (you better believe I was born to survive).”

And then Seth’s was “All Her Brothers’ Keeper (you keep your secrets and I’ll keep the watch).”

And though technically not escapees with the rest of them, I am anal and a completionist, so of course I had to write ones for Eva, Jack and Jace too. 

Eva’s was “Big Sisters Know Best (so when I say I’ll die for you, just say thank you and live).” 

Jace’s was “Leopards Never Change Their Spots (but why worry about my 5% leopard when I’m 10% shark). 

And Jack’s was “Shelter The Innocent (but don’t look at the boy without shelter and say that boy, he’s no good).”

Anyway, been randomly thinking about those today now. Well, not randomly since I can follow the train of thought that led me to thinking about them, but you know what I mean. Its just kinda funny to me that I do remember those particular stories so well when there’s entire other fandoms I can barely remember writing in at all. And DA fandom wasn’t even one I was in all that long, ever knew too many other people in, or like....idk. I definitely, definitely have written much more well read and frequently commented upon stories than that fairly random little series of almost-OCs, but for some reason it stuck around in my head a lot longer and a lot more clearly than a ton of other stuff.

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Star Chapter 7: Tom and Pony Head Part 2

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Star, Tom and Pony reach the cave in the Forest of Certain Death but what lurks inside may harbor ill intentions for the teens, leaving Marco to have to face his fears in order to save his friend. 

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Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

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“Star, Star are you in there?” Jackie called from the other side of the princess' door, knocking softly on the firm wood. Once again, the girl got no reply, just an empty silence. From next to her, Janna sighed with annoyance, leaning up against the wall with crossed arms.

“Why are we doing this again?” Janna muttered, pulling her phone from her pocket and swiping the screen to turn the device on.

Jackie turned to her partner, explaining, “Marco wasn't in his room and I thought Star would want to know.”

“They're probably still on top of the tower, watching the stars or something,” Janna said, her eyes never leaving the bright screen.

“Yeah probably. Wait,” Jackie gave her roommate a glare, raising an eyebrow at her. “How do you know they went on the tower today?”

“I saw them,” Janna replied, with a shrug.

“You were spying on them!” Jackie yelled. “What about our deal?!”

“Hey, I didn't interfere,” Janna defended, raising her hands up in surrender. “I just observed.”

“Well it's still wrong,” Jackie scolded, whipping her head back to Star's door.

“Oh so you don't want to know what those two were doing up there,” Janna said, leaning closer to Jackie with a knowing smirk. “All alone.”

Jackie looked at her friend's face out of the corner of her eye, her obvious interest shining in her bright green irises, the temptation to ask almost too much to bare. Finally, Jackie turned away from the girl with a scoff, keeping her voice sounding as disinterested as possible. “Ha, why would I care? That's there business not mine,” Jackie calmly said, with a roll of her eyes.

Janna shrugged, the smile still on her lips, as she quietly slid her phone back into her pocket. “Well when we get in there you can tell her that yourself,” she said, reaching for the knob.

“Wait!” Jackie quickly grabbed her hand just before it touched the cold metal, drawing the girl's attention to her. “You can't just pick the lock of the Princess of Mewni, Jan. You have to have standards.”

“Uh I wasn't going to pick the lock,” Janna said, pulling her hand away and grabbing the knob once again. Keeping her eyes on the skeptic Jackie, she turned the knob and threw the door open with a flourish, reveling the status of the unlocked door to her friend.

Jackie looked sheepishly at the now opened doorway, simply saying, “Oh,” following after her roommate into the dark room. The two girls looked around for any signs of the blond, calling her name often as they searched the room top to bottom. But after a few minutes it became obvious the room was empty and a disheartened Jackie sighed, leaning up against the opened windowsill in defeat. That was when she noticed the thick rope tied tightly to Star's bedframe, the rest hanging out the window blowing freely in the night breeze.

“Uh, Jan,” Jackie started, lifting the rope up so she could inspect it closer. “I think you might need to see this.”

…

The woods were dark and silent as the trio continued deeper into its heart, Tom and Pony in the lead, walking resolutely forward with no fear of the dangers that could lurk around every corner. Star followed a little slower, her eyes darting around constantly, on edge even with the knowledge that no monsters were in the area. The air felt thick with tension, though she wasn't sure if it was coming from her or the woods themselves.

Finally they seemed to reach their destination, Tom and Pony coming to a stop in front of a large cave. Star caught up with them, examining the cave with interest. It was massive, its rocky walls expanding above the treetops and stretching out into the dark treeline. As Tom had said, the entrance to the cave was blocked by a blood red magical barrier, a giant lock with chains stretching all around the cave covered the entrance, a bit of overkill in Star's opinion.

“Is this it?” Star asked pointlessly, mostly just needing to break the uncomfortable silence that seemed to consume the area.

“Yep, this is the place,” Tom proudly responded, either not noticing the tension or (more likely) not caring. “Pretty cool, huh?” He turned to Star with a grin, waiting for a response.

She gave him a weak smile, unable to quite push away the unease she was still feeling. Pony closed in on her, leaning against the girl's arm, saying, “Cooler than anything that Mango ever did, right girl?”

“Come on guys,” Star said, sounding defensive. “Marco's not that bad.”

“Oh please the wimp couldn't even handle a little danger,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You know just because your parents make you keep those orphans in the castle doesn't mean you have to hang out with them.”

“Uh, so you gonna open the cave, we don't really have all night,” Pony interrupted, looking bored.

Star let out an annoyed sigh, resisting putting a hand to her aching head. “Let's just get this over with,” Star muttered to herself, lifting her wand up, aiming it at the enormous lock. “Super Ladybug Lockpick!” she yelled, her voice with just a hint of irritation. A burst of magic shot out of her wand, taking the form of a giant, smiling ladybug, holding an equally sized key inbetween its legs. It flew up to the lock, inserting the key which began to glow with magic inside the locking mechanism. The lock and key disappeared, the magic chains falling to the floor before dispersing from existence, the shield following quickly afterward. Star lowered the wand, Tom and Pony looking into the now opened entrance to the cave, only shadows and darkness seeming to be lurking inside. Star kept her eyes on the floor, her thoughts on Marco, unable to stop herself from wishing he was there with her and still feeling guilty for leaving him behind.

But her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a strange chittering noise coming from within the cave. Star felt a chill run up her spine as it grew louder in volume, the noise echoing around the rocky walls of the cave, before projecting into the clearing where the trio stood. Tom and Pony were frozen in shock, Star feeling shaky and unsure of the strange noise, holding her wand tightly in front of her, waiting for an attack. Finally, the sound ceased, silence filling the clearing again, only Star's heavy breathing providing any noise in the quiet area.

“Well that was weird,” Tom said. Just then thick blue vine-like things shot out of the cave, wrapping themselves around the boy's arm, making him scream. Star turned to her friend in shock, shooting a blast of magic at the ropes, forcing them to remove themselves from Tom. He panted, holding his arm in shock, staring in at the darkness of the cave with uncertainty.

“You okay?” Star breathlessly asked, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“What the heck was that?!” Pony yelled and in response more vines shot out, heading right for the floating head, before getting shot out of the air by another blast from Star's wand.

“Run!” she screamed, as more vines emerged from the cave heading right for the three teens. But her friends responded to her command, running away from the cave as quickly as possible. Star shot off a few incoming vines with her wand, trying to buy them some time, before turning on her heels and following after her friends. She ran as quickly as she could, her heart pounding away in her chest, not daring to look back at the vines that were probably still closing in on her. She just focused on getting her sore legs to move fast enough to escape the vines, her exhaustion from the long day and night now catching up to her at the worst possible time. She could see Tom and Pony in front of her, running into the forest undergrowth, now free from the unwanted vines and she tried to pick up her pace.

That was when she felt something wrap around her leg, instantly pulling back on her, sending her tumbling to the hard ground. She hit the earth with a loud bang, screaming in pain as her shoulder took the impact of the fall. She looked around her with bleary vision, trying to spot her wand seeing it laying just a few feet in front of her. She gathered her strength, reaching out a hand to grab the magical device but she felt the string go taut as it began dragging her back to the cave by her ankle.

“No, no, no,” Star screamed in panic, trying to fight back against the long rope's pull and reach her wand, her hands feebly clawing at the ground. She began gaining ground on the vine, inch by inch coming closer to her wand. Finally, she was able to grab the wand, releasing a shaky sigh as she held it tightly in her hand. She aimed it at the vine wrapped around her leg, trying to come up with a spell in this panic-filled moment.

“Super Laser- Ahhhh!” Star screamed as another thick vine wrapped itself around her hand coating the wand completely, rendering it useless. Star tried to fight back against the remarkably soft vines, pulling and tugging, trying desperately to get her hand free, but she was unsuccessful as it dragged her across the ground, bringing her closer and closer to the darkness of the cave. She heard the chittering noise again echoing around the walls of the cave as she drew closer and she turned hoping to see Tom or Pony running toward her, ready to free her from her predicament. But she was alone and no one was coming to save her. “Tom! Pony!” Star screamed, calling to them, trying desperately to reach them. Star felt tears of defeat in her eyes as the vines dragged her to the very entrance of the cave. “Marco!” she screamed as loudly as she could.

And then she was dragged, still screaming, into the depths of the dark cave, disappearing from sight.

...

Marco sat alone at a table, feeling miserable, looking at the pretty plant set neatly in its small décor vase with solace. What was he even doing there, really? He should stop mopping and go back to the castle like he told Star he would. There was nothing really to do here, not without Star. But something was keeping him there, making him want to stay, though he wasn't sure what. The boy sighed in misery, placing his forehead against the cold tabletop.

Marco saw a shadow darken over his face and he looked up to see the hairy creature from before standing over him, giving him a blank, empty stare. The hooded boy opened his mouth to speak but the creature suddenly flipped its hair up, revealing the teenage girl beneath. She smiled at him giving a tiny wave. “Hey again,” she said cheerfully.

“Oh hi,” Marco softly replied, upon recognizing the girl. “Your the girl from before, right?”

“Yep,” she replied with a small, courteous nod. “Name's Kelly.”

“Marco,” the hooded boy said. Then, suddenly remembering the casual greeting he was supposed to give, he thrust his hand out in the girl's face, making her lean back awkwardly. But she took his hand, shaking it softly.

The two stood shaking hands for a moment, Marco leaning uncomfortably on the table, as an awkward silence stretched out. “You can let go of my hand now,” Kelly finally said.

“Oh sorry,” Marco quickly apologized, pulling his hand away and sitting back down.

“So is this seat taken,” the girl asked, gesturing to the chair next to Marco's.

“Uh no, go ahead,” Marco said, a smile on his face and the girl pulled out the chair taking a seat.

“So are you from around here?” Marco asked, trying to make awkward small talk with the complete stranger sitting at his table.

“Actually I work here,” Kelly explained.

“What? Where?” Marco asked, looking around.

“There.” Marco followed the girl's pointing finger to the restaurant set up beside them, the boy just now realizing that he had sat down at one of the restaurant's outdoor dining areas.

“Oh,” Marco said softly, feeling slightly embarrassed for the mistake.

“When I saw you sitting over here all alone, I wanted to come over and thank you for what you did,” Kelly explained.

“It was no big deal,” Marco shyly responded, shrinking a little into his hoodie.

“No it was a big deal. If it weren't for you, me and Tad would be dead.”

“Tad?” Marco repeated in confusion. “Who's Tad?”

Suddenly, the top of Kelly's hair seemed to come to life, eyes and a mouth appearing out of nowhere, staring down at the boy with a relaxed smile. “Hey dude,” her hair said.

There was a moment of silence as Marco just stared at the hair with wide eyes. But his smile quickly returned, as he gave the talking hair an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Tad!” he shouted, greeting him in a friendly manner.

“I really appreciate what you did for me, brah,” Tad continued. “If it weren't for you, Kells could have been hurt. And I don't know what I would have done without her.”

“Awwww, Tad,” Kelly cooed, putting a hand to her blushing cheeks.

“It's true babe. I mean you are my whole world.”

“Your just saying that because your stuck up there on my head.”

“Well yeah. But what hair would want any different when it's already got the best.”

Marco watched the two's flirting for a minute, smiling. But out of nowhere, his thoughts jumped to Star and he felt a lump wedge itself into the back of his throat. Instinctively, he turned in the direction of the forest, feeling a crushing weight begin to weigh heavily on his body as he thought of the girl. He knew he shouldn't, but he was worried about Star, hating the idea of her being out there in the middle of the woods, even if she was with her old friends. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that all was not right with the princess. He knew he was probably being paranoid, he was clearly afraid of the woods, but still...

“Marco?”

Marco jumped turning to Kelly in a daze. “What?” Marco's voice squeaked, still strained from the lump. “Sorry I was...”

“Thinking about that girl from before,” Kelly guessed and she was rewarded by Marco's blushing cheeks.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he shyly responded, not looking the girl in the eyes.

“Did she ditch you?” Tad asked.

“Huh, ditch?” Marco asked, giving the talking hair a strange look. “What's that?”

“She abandoned you to go do something else,” Kelly helpfully supplied.

“Oh,” Marco said, nodding in understanding. “Yes... and no, I guess. I told her to go on without me, because I was in the way but now...” Marco's eyes began to glaze over with pain.

“Bad move, dude.”

Marco gave Tad another confused look. “What? Why?”

“Trust me. You don't leave your girl's side, no matter what.”

“But what if me being with her makes things worse?” Marco asked. “And what if what she's doing you don't like?”

“Then you have to decide,” Kelly pitched in. “Which is better for both of you. Tad and I don't get along on everything, but we try to stick together. Sometimes it's important to know when you stay together and when you give each other space. But it has to be the decision that makes both of you happy.”

Marco looked down at the table, deep in thought. Did he make the right call? Letting Star go had seemed like the right choice at the time, but he wasn't feeling good about it at all? So did that mean he made a mistake? Should he have gone too? Should he have told her to stay? Marco sighed, rubbing his sore eyes tiredly. “Your right I should have gone with her to that cave,” he moaned.

“Wait, cave,” Kelly suddenly blurted. “What cave?”

Marco heard the concern in her voice and removed his hands from his face, looking into the girl's obviously unsettled eyes. “The one that's sealed off with magic,” Marco hesitantly said, feeling his heart rate begin to spike.

“The one in the Forest of Certain Death?” Kelly questioned, her voice quivering slightly.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Marco,” Kelly's face scrunched up, filling Marco with unease. “That cave is dangerous!” she continued, not daring to look the boy in the eyes. “They say there's a creature sealed inside, locked by an ancient magic. Though I doubt your friend would be capable of getting in or anything, I mean it would take a heck of a lot of magic to open that cave and only an idiot would be dumb enough to even try it.”

Kelly looked up shooting the boy a comforting smile, only to switch to shock as she looked at the empty table in front of her, the chair the boy had been sitting in pushed out away from the table, it's occupant already running toward the certain doom that awaited him.

...

Tom and Pony ran as far and fast as they could, putting as much distance between themselves and the cave as possible. Until finally they freed themselves from the entrapping woods, arriving in town once again. The two came to a stop, Tom panting heavily from the exhausting run. The two took a moment to catch their breath, before breaking into laughter, relieved that they had escaped unharmed.

“Man that was crazy,” Tom chocked out, inbetween panting and fits of laughter.

“Crazy, that was insane,” Pony corrected. “Bet you wouldn't have seen that in your castle, huh B-Fly?” Pony turned, expecting to see Star behind her. But she wasn't. There was no sign of the girl anywhere around the two. “B-Fly?” Pony repeated, feeling slightly concerned.

“Star?” Tom called out as well.

The two's eyes were drawn to the dark woods once again, as Tom quietly whispered, “Oh no.”

...

Marco ran up to the dark woods, already panting heavily. He brought himself to a stop just before he entered the thick foliage, looking into the dark woods uncertainty. He was scared, there was no doubt about that, but if Star really was going to the cave Kelly said she was then she might be in danger. And if something happened to her Marco didn't know what he'd do. He had to help her, he just had to.

And so despite the overwhelming fear that coursed through his body, he stepped into the woods, brushing the loose branches and bushes out of his way as he entered the dimly lit forest. Marco froze, looking around at the towering trees in terror, feeling like the woods themselves were closing in around him. He began to hyperventilate, the forest growing smaller and smaller around the boy, the edges of his vision going black as he began to lose consciousness. He tried to calm himself, to force his feet to keep moving, but they were planted in place.

“I'm sorry,” Marco whispered to the forest around him. “I'm so sorry. Toffee told me not to leave, he said it'd hurt you, but I did, Buff Frog... Buff Frog made me and now you all probably hate me.” He felt tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. “Now I can't see any of you ever again and I don't... even know why. And now...” Marco sniffed wiping the tears out of his eyes, as his breathing began to calm, the suns of his cheeks glowing faintly as he took a deep, shaky breath, determination anew in his eyes. “Star. She needs me. I can't lose her like I did my family. I have to help her.”

And with that Marco, ignoring the overwhelming fear that still consumed his body, took off at a run, pushing deeper and deeper into the forest, hoping he would come across the cave. He had no idea how long he ran through the dark woods, every second feeling like an eternity as his worry for Star's safety grew, but eventually he came into a clearing were a large cave-like structure towered over him. He paused for a minute taking in the unsettling cave, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flip, before racing in to the cave without a second thought.

Once inside, he gave a quick survey of the room, startled by how warm and inviting the inside felt compared to the cold, dark exterior. The inside of the cave felt more like a proper living area, though on a giant scale. There was a sofa and coffee table, even a fireplace, though Marco did take note that almost everything in the room seemed to be made of a yarn-like substance expertly weaved together to create furniture. On top of that, there were large piles of socks everywhere in the enormous room, scattered all over the floor, making for a make-shift carpet. There were no lamps so it was rather dark in the giant's living room, the only source of light and warmth coming from the lit fireplace, but Marco's eyes adjusted quickly, finding the room still brighter than the woods outside.

He took a few steps forward, trying to spot Star or the others, making sure to stay close to the exit in case something unexpected came running in. He called Star's name gently, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. Finally, he looked up to the fireplace once again, noticing the stockings hanging over it, curious as to why these were being treated differently than the rest of its matching companions. That was when he spotted Star, poking out of one of the socks, her eyes closed. Marco felt panic and relief in a strange mixture as he resisted the urge to scream the girl's name. He ran over to the fireplace, no longer caring about the exit, as he quickly found a path up its side, using the uneven stone as footholes as he scaled the rocky hearth. Once he reached the top he ran over to the unconscious girl. He bent down to the girl's level tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

“Star.” he hissed, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. “Star, wake up.” The girl moaned, shifting in her sleep as she slowly peeked open an eye, looking at the boy with uncertainty.

“Marco?” she whispered, the exhaustion in her voice unmistakable. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the partially lit room. “W-Where are we?” She tried to turn so she could take surveillance of the room, but found her arms restricted. She gasped as she noticed everything below her shoulders was trapped within the scratchy sock. She tried to pull herself free, tugging against the relentless sock, but found herself unable to move. “I'm stuck,” she whispered in worry. “I-I can't move.”

She felt hands wrap around her shoulders, pulling against the entrapping weight of the sock and she looked behind her to see Marco, straining as he tried to pull the girl to freedom, his brown eyes filled with a raw determination. Star felt her cheeks blush, for just a moment forgetting to move, before she snapped herself back to reality, moving with hooded boy as one.

Finally, it became obvious to Star that there would be no escaping the sock, letting out a deep sigh. “It's no use,” she whispered, slightly out of breath. “You should go before that thing comes back and gets you too.” She looked to Marco with fearful eyes, but he didn't even budge, the determination never leaving his face as he shook his head.

“No way. I'm not leaving you here. There's got to be another way.” He thought for a moment, putting a finger to his chin, Star just watching him in silence. “Hmmmm. Wait. Where are Tom and Pony Head? Maybe if I free them first, we can all work together to get you out.”

Star eyes filled with sadness as she shook her head. “That won't work. Tom and Pony Head already escaped, I was the only one who got captured.” She gave Marco another pleading look. “So please just go, Marco. There's no reason for both of us to get taken.”

But Marco just ignored her, his brain tumbling as he tried to think of another plan to free Star. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head as he quickly asked the girl, “Where's your wand? Is it in the sock, too?”

Star's face seemed to brighten as she remembered her magical device. “Of course. Marco that's genius.” But her face fell as realization hit her. “Oh no, I don't have it.”

“What? Then where is it?” Marco asked, looking around the fireplace for any sign of it.

“I dropped it,” Star said, shaking slightly.

“Where?”

“Down there.” Star gestured with her head to the pile of socks in the middle of the room, looking like a sea of bright blue below. Marco followed her gaze, squinting as he tried to spot the wand. He took a deep breath, turning to Star. “Stay here,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

“Wait, Marco!” Star called after him in a loud whisper, but the boy was already climbing down the fireplace, his eyes jumping to the pile of socks that waited below.

Once he was on the ground he quickly went over there, digging around through the soft and scratchy socks for any sign of Star's wand. His hands were buried deep inside the pile, blindly grabbing around for anything that wasn't made of cotton or wool. “Come on, come on,” he whispered, feeling pressured to rush it. Finally, his hands bumped up against something hard and Marco smiled in victory.

That was when he heard a chittering sound above him, looking up to see the creature of the cave. It was huge, towering over the room, its massive size suddenly making sense in Marco's mind. The thing was dark blue and made 100% out of thick yarn. It stared at him in shock for a second, Marco still bent over in the pile of socks staring blankly back. Then the creature released a massive roar, which seemed to shake the walls of the furbished cave. Marco screamed, pulling his hands out from the socks, now holding the wand.

“Marco run!” Star screamed from her stocking, still tugging against the scratchy fabric, trying to break free. Marco immediately obeyed, taking off from the creature as it shoot out webs made of yarn at the boy. The boy managed to see them coming out of the corner of his eye and dodged right, the yarn webs wrapping around the legs of the table, becoming stuck. The creature pulled against the table but its arm didn't budge and it released a sigh of annoyance.

While the creature was busy freeing itself Marco ran over to the fireplace, slipping the wand in his hood pocket, before scaling the structure once again. He made his way up quickly, keeping a weary eye on the creature which was still struggling to free itself. Once on top, Marco ran over to the trapped Star, his goal in sight.

But he was stopped as thick yarn webs wrapped around his body, pulling him off the fireplace and sending him falling to the ground. “Marco!” Star screamed, finally managing to pull a hand free from the sock. Marco screamed as he fell to the floor, putting his hands feebly in front of his face in hopes of providing protection. But it was for nothing as he crash landed into the pile of socks from before, breaking his fall and preventing any serious injury. Marco sat up from the sock pile to see the creature a short distance away and quickly closing the distance as it stalked closer.

Marco jumped to his feet running away from the creature once again, trying to make it to some form of safety in the room. More yarn webs shot out at him and he dove to the floor to avoid getting hit, the webs passing over his head uselessly.

He got up once again, running behind the couch, for a moment free from the creature's vision. He panted a few times, trying to catch his breath after the exhausting incident, peeking around the side, looking for any signs of the creature and was surprised to see nothing. Marco pulled back, leaning against the couch deep in thought, when a large shadow passed over his face. He looked up to see the yarn creature, leaning over the back of the couch, glaring at him. “You know that's really bad for your couch,” Marco said.

The creature growled releasing more webs at the boy, who dropped down on all fours and crawled underneath the couch, barely avoiding getting hit. The boy crawled forward, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, trying to keep his breathing and racing heart calm as he pushed forward, trying not to think of the creature that might be waiting for him at the other end. He crawled out the other side, slowly sneaking away, the creature still looking over the back of the couch for any signs of the boy who seemed to just disappear.

Marco crept slowly forward, trying to make the least amount of sound as possible. But the creature, still confused, turned and saw the boy creeping away. Its eyes narrowed as it shot out more yarn webs, the boy too busy trying not to make noise that he didn't even notice. “Look out!” Marco felt something heavy bump into him sending him tumbling to the floor, the yarn webs passing harmlessly beside him.

Marco blinked, wondering how he had ended up on the floor, feeling a heavy, warm weight pressed up against him. He looked down to see Star laying on top of him and he felt his cheeks turn hot as her bright blue irises focused on his face, looking concerned. Marco opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him as Star moved a little closer to him, their faces becoming close to touching, her long blond hair tickling his face as she leaned over him, her eyes scanning his face for any injuries. “You okay?”

But before Marco could attempt to answer, another roar echoed throughout the cave and Star looked over to the see the creature, quickly losing patience, stalking toward them. Star grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him to his feet and dragging him behind her, as she ran for the exit.

But just as the two made it out the cave's mouth, a yarn web latched onto Marco's back, pulling him back into the depths of the cave. Marco screamed as Star tried to pull the boy out of the fabric's grip, but the two were being slowly dragged in inch by inch. The princess grunted as she dug her heels into the ground, tightening her grip on the boy's arm as much as she could without hurting him. “Don't worry Marco, I'm not letting go!” Star screamed.

But she began losing hope as the darkness slowly closed in around them, more webs wrapping around them beginning to encase their bodies in the scratchy fabric. Marco seemed to be realizing the hopelessness of their situation as well as he looked deep into Star's eyes, the two trying to enjoy what might be their last moment together.

“Hang on B-Fly!” a voice screamed from behind them and the two turned to see Tom and Pony Head racing toward the two.

“Pony!” the two screamed as one.

“Hey what about me!?” Tom yelled, fuming with anger, the flames on his cheeks igniting as he came to an abrupt stop.

“Not now T!” Pony yelled. “We gotta save B-Fly and Mango!”

“It's Marco!” Marco screamed.

“Yeah no one still cares. Charge!” With that Pony stabbed her horn deep into the yarn web, ripping some of it apart. Meanwhile, Tom snapped his fingers the rest of the webs bursting into flames and disintegrating. With the webs suddenly severed, Star and Marco felt gravity take hold of them once again as they were sent tumbling to the floor.

More webs continued to spring out of the cave, Tom and Pony laying waste to them, as they protected the two Mewmans who were still trying to recover from the terrifying ordeal. The two lay on the floor, hand in hand, panting, watching Tom and Pony in shocked silence. The two held their own against the never ending webs that seemed to shoot out of the cave's mouth, but it was obvious they couldn't hold out forever.

Until suddenly Star, logic returning to her frazzled brain, turned to Marco shouting, “Marco, quick my wand!”

“Oh right,” Marco said, pulling the wand out of his hood pocket and handing it to Star. Once the wand was back in her hands, she took a deep breath, letting the magic gather.

“Hyper Rainbow Shield!” she screamed, as magic shot out of her wand encasing the entire entrance of the cave, a purple shield immediately beginning to form. Tom and Pony relaxed as the webs finally stopped coming, bouncing off the shield harmlessly.

The four friends all took a moment to catch their breath, as the dangerous situation was finally resolved. Star helped Marco to his feet. “You okay?” she asked, still panting.

“Yeah,” Marco grunted, rubbing his head softly. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you,” Star said. “But how'd you know I was in trouble?”

“Someone in town told me that cave was super dangerous, so I came to make sure you were okay,” Marco explained.

“Well we had your back too, B-Fly,” Pony cut in. “There was no way we were letting our friend get turned into a sock mummy,” Pony said.

“Thanks,” Star said, giving them a grateful smile.

“So what should we do now, girl?” Pony asked. “There's still a massive rave happening in the Bounce Lounge if we hurry we can-”

“Actually,” Star interrupted. “I'm gonna take Marco back.”

“Ah come on, he's fine,” Pony said, with a roll of her eyes. “You don't have to babysit him just because he almost died.”

“Yeah why don't you send him home so you can hang out with your real friends,” Tom blurted out, before his eyes widened, realizing his mistake.

There was an awkward moment of silence as Star stared at her two friends in disbelief, realization finally entering the girl's brain. Her eyes narrowed on them and Tom and Pony both backed up a bit from the girl. But Star took a deep breath, before turning back to Marco, who just stood there awkwardly unsure what to do, shooting him a smile. “Marco why don't you go on ahead? I'll catch up.”

“O-Okay,” Marco said, before walking past the three giving them all concerned looks, heading in the direction of town.

Once he was out of sight, Star turned to her two old friends once again. “I'll right first off, Marco is my friend, one I choose to hang out with, not forced to,” she began, her voice hard. “Secondly, I'm tired. I've been tired all night and you two never even took the time to notice it. And I can see that the only way this night is going to end is if I say something. So I am.”

“But-” Tom began.

“But what Tom,” Star cut him off, shooting him a glare.

“You never would have called it a night before,” Pony said.

“Well I'm not the person I was before, Pony,” Star huffed. “I'm not some crazy party girl who can go out and do whatever I want. I have duties and responsibilities and people who look up to me. And I don't care if that makes me sound like a rubber stamp princess, because it's true.”

“Okay well, we were only trying to help,” Pony muttered.

“No you weren't,” Star exclaimed, her anger boiling. “You used me, all night long, to do all those stupid, dumb pranks. You never cared about spending time with me, you just wanted my wand so you could break the rules and rebel.”

“Hey don't pin this on us,” Tom defended. “You're the one who asked us to help you become the princess you were before.”

“Yes I did,” Star said with a sigh, her eyes for a moment looking to the ground, before jumping back up to them. “But I was wrong. I'm not the princess I was before... but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe the person I am now is better. And maybe I shouldn't be trying to change that.”

“So what you'd rather hang out with that turd than your besties,” Pony said.

“It all comes down to two options Star,” Tom added. “Us or him.”

Star looked down for a moment, thinking. Finally she looked back up at them with a hard look. “Fine.” And with that she turned on her heels and began walking in the direction Marco had gone.

“Star!” Tom called, but she didn't respond, simply walking off, leaving her two oldest friends behind. The two turned to each looking shocked and confused.

“Nice going,” Pony hissed at her friend, who looked at the ground sadly.

“She really chose him over us,” he whispered in depression.

“Why did you even ask her to?” Pony scoffed. “ Let's just give her a few days to cool of. She'll come around eventually.”

…

“Your sure they went in there?” Jackie asked looking at the dark woods, uncertainly.

“Oh yeah,” Kelly confidently replied. “He seemed pretty upset when I told him about the cave.”

“Marco in the Forest of Certain Death,” Janna pitched in. “No way. Gotta be someone else.”

“How many other boys in bright red hoods with sun cheek marks do you know?” Kelly pointed out.

“Touche.”

“I hope they're okay in there,” Jackie said, her voice quivering slightly as she looked into the danger-ridden woods with concern.

“Well if there are about four different caves located just outside of town in the Forest of Certain Death and only three of them have dangerous creatures trapped inside,” Janna stated matter-of-factly. “So we have about a one in four chance of them not getting eaten.”

“I don't even want to ask how you know that,” Jackie said, putting a palm to her forehead.

“What's in the other one?” Kelly asked the creepy girl curiously.

“Diamonds,” she answered with a shrug. “Oh and gold.”

“Oh, cool we should totally go there Tad for date night,” Kelly said, looking up at her hair.

“Sounds good to me, babe,” Tad replied. “I'll go with you, anywhere.”

“I wouldn't if I were you, it's all kinda cursed,” Janna said.

“Awww, why is there always a catch when exploring unknown caves in dark woods?” Kelly huffed in frustration. “Come on Tad, let's go home.” The two girl's watched their informant sulk off, looking upset, until a voice yelled behind them.

“Hey guys!” Jackie and Janna turned as one, looking to the wood's entrance where Marco stood waving over to them.

“Marco!” they both shouted, quickly running over to join him.

“Where have you been?” Jackie asked in concern.

“With Star,” Marco replied innocently.

“Where is Star?” Janna asked, looking around for any signs of the girl.

“She was talking to Tom and Pony Head.”

“Those two?!” Jackie exclaimed, sounding disgusted. “They were behind this.”

“Yeah,” Marco said, a little put-off by Jackie's bizarre behavior. “They've been hanging out with me and Star all night.”

“Well now the devastation makes sense,” Janna muttered under her breath, a small smile on her face. “That had Tom's handwriting all over it.”

“Don't sound so impressed,” Jackie said, shooting Janna a look.

“Actually, that was me,” a hesitant voice called from the woods and they all turned to Star, looking downcast.

“Star!” the two girls screamed, Jackie pulling her into a hug.

“Where are Tom and Pony Head?” Marco asked, looking around for them.

Star's eyes went dark for a moment. “I have no idea,” she spat. Marco felt guilt clench his gut at Star's reaction, suddenly afraid he had upset her.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” Star asked in confusion.

“For ruining your night,” Marco said, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Marco,” Star said softly, taking his hands gently into her own. Marco looked up into her eyes with shock. “You didn't ruin my night.”

“But what about Tom and Pony Head? Didn't you want to spend time with them?”

Star giggled a little. “Actually I'd much rather spend time with you” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “My best friend.”

“Your best... friend,” Marco repeated, his cheeks blushing slightly.

“Yep,” Star replied matter-of-factly. “Bestie for short.”

“Bestie,” Marco tried out the word, letting it sink into his brain. “I like it,” he said, giving Star another cute smile that just made her heart flutter.

“I'm glad,” she said, giving him a warm smile.

Jackie and Janna stared at the two in silence, giving each other knowing looks. Janna cleared her throat, capturing the two's attention once again. “Well you two besties might want to consider cleaning up the mess you and the others made out of town,” she said. “The people are still in revolt over that possum statue getting broken.”

“Oh yeah,” Star said sheepishly, looking at Marco. “Guess I should try to get everything fixed before morning. So much for sleep.”

“Don't worry Star, your bestie will be there beside you all night to help,” Marco said dramatically, putting a hand to his chest.

Star laughed. “Why thank you, bestie,” she said, equally as dramatic, curtsying.

The two shared a laugh for a moment before turning back to town, the two besties flashing each other a smile before heading off to spend the rest of the night together as friends.

#Star vs #Star vs au #My writing #Light of the Sun and Stars #Starco

[cycwrites]

The Reckoning - A Fic Tease

Fic Tease time again. The Bella Reunion post USO Tour. I swear I’m going to end up writing all of PP3 in teases unintentionally.

Nowish takes place March-July 2017, USO tour happens March 2018, Tattoos in Aprilish 2018 and this is after.

Fair warning – this is only a partial chapter and could change a bit when it’s finally included in the actual story.

Rating: Teen

Words: 8200

Also on AO3

A Shared Lifetime  - All my works in my alternate timeline so far, including my other fic teases. 

Thanks, as always, to @tiny-maus-boots for the above and beyond Beta/Editor work she does.

Saturday, June 23, 2018

~B~

“I texted CR to let her know we’re here and about to check in.” Beca looked up as Stacie opened the rental car door to let her out of the backseat. “Thanks, babe.” She groaned as she got out and stretched her legs. It wasn’t a long drive from the airport to their hotel, but after the plane ride even she was feeling a little cramped.

“Think they’re readying shots for us again?” Aubrey asked from the other side of the car as she opened the door for Chloe.

“Probably.” Beca leaned back and felt her spine pop back into place. “I quite enjoyed being handed vodka shots when we walked in at Barden last year. I just hope Amy keeps away from the Tequila this time.” She shuddered. “It doesn’t even taste good, why do we keep doing it? Better yet, why do I keep drinking till I throw up?”

“But I held your hair back and everything.” Stacie ran her hand through Beca’s hair. “I didn’t think such a small body could hold that much vomit.”

“I did.” Chloe walked around the trunk to wind her arm around Beca’s waist. “I’m just glad you were there to get her to the bathroom.”

“Eh.” Stacie shrugged. “You and Bree were dancing. B and I were only gone a few minutes. I’m just glad Aubrey came prepared.”

Beca made a face. “Me too.” Aubrey, based on past experiences, had taken the precaution of bringing four different mini toothbrushes as well as a mini tube of toothpaste in her purse that night. “I’d take any version of Amy’s Aussie Surprise over Tequila. Someone please remind me of that tonight when I’m drunk and making bad choices?”

Aubrey laughed as Stacie popped the trunk open. “No promises, love.”

“You just want to get me drunk and take advantage of me.” Beca moved to the back of the car and took Aubrey’s bag out before she could.

“I don’t need you drunk for that,” Aubrey leaned down and purred in her ear, her voice deliberately deeper.

“Aubrey Marie Posen, do not start that right now.” Beca closed her eyes as a shiver went through her, having to lean on the edge of the trunk as her legs felt momentarily wobbly. “We promised we’d just drop the bags off and go right to the convention room. You give me that voice now and we’re never going to make it.” Which, Beca knew, was exactly the response Aubrey was trying to provoke and one that she was more than willing to give into.

Aubrey laughed and ran her hand down Beca’s arm. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I don’t know that I believe that.” Chloe said from where she leaned against the side of the car, watching them. “I think you just like it when Beca’s all horny and can’t do anything about it.”

As Aubrey only smiled, the heat of which caused Beca to shiver again, Stacie gently moved Aubrey away from the trunk before she could grab more than their shared carry on and began to help Beca unload the rest of their bags. “I know I like it when she does that.”

“To you or Beca?” Chloe smiled as Beca handed her the small bag that held their combined toiletries.

“Yes.” Stacie answered absently, scanning the trunk for anything left behind. “Watch your fingers. I’m awful fond of them.” She looked to make sure everyone was clear and then closed the trunk. Fishing the keys out of her pocket, she hit the lock before replacing them so she could grab the handles of both her and Aubrey’s rolling suitcases.

Beca did the same for hers and Chloe’s and headed for the entrance to the Miami Hilton. “You guys are the worst.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Aubrey said, her voice skirting the line between Normal Aubrey and Sex Voice Aubrey. She laughed when Beca almost tripped over her own feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll behave.” She waited until they had almost reached the door. “At least until tonight.”

Beca felt her stomach tighten with desire and groaned. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you just…” She trailed off. “How long do we have to stay at this thing?”

“It’s tradition to close it down.” Chloe said, smiling at the doorman who held the door open for them. “Thank you.”

“That feels like a year away.” Beca groaned.

“Won’t that just make it all the more fun when we’re back in our room?” Stacie whispered in her ear as they joined the back of the small line waiting to check in.

Beca drew a deep breath and tried to wrestle her hormones down long enough to deal with the desk staff. “You’re right. I’ll stop whining.”

She shuffled forward in line, Aubrey and Chloe talking about their previous Bella group as they waited, and reminded herself that she was about to see her self-made family. It had only been a few months since their return from overseas, but she missed them already. Spending time with them was never a bad thing, even if her mind was already trying to envision three beautiful women naked under her in bed.

In short order they’d checked in, gotten their keys and were headed up to their room. As Aubrey opened the door and led the way, Beca whistled as she wheeled in their luggage. “Okay. This is fancy.” She moved the suitcases against one of the walls and turned in a circle. They’d all vetoed the idea of separate rooms and had decided to get one of the Bay view suites. It had a separate bedroom with a king sized bed and a large living room area; they had paid for the room in advance when they’d booked it just after Christmas, thinking to entertain the Bellas over the weekend. The sofa bed would hopefully keep the rest of them from thinking too hard about why they’d gotten a single bed room.

Now, however, Amy had booked a presidential suite with the balcony, thanks to her newfound fortune, and likely would do a lot of the entertaining up there. At least until Bumper showed up the following day and Amy kicked them all out for a while. Amy had also generously paid to extend all their stays for an extra few days, giving them time to explore the city and hit the beaches.

“Just wait till you’re a big music star, B.” Stacie said as she brought over her suitcases. “You’ll be in those suites that have three bedrooms and a parlor or the presidential suite soon yourself.”

Beca frowned. “We don’t even know that the album I’m going to have to start thinking about will sell.” Aubrey snorted on her way to the bathroom. “We don’t.” Beca insisted then grinned. “But if I do, I guess I’ll just have to find excuses to bring you all with me, since we’ll have so many bedrooms and all.”

Chloe kissed her on the cheek and patted her on the ass. “You’ll be great.”

“Damn right she will.” Aubrey agreed as she walked out of the bathroom. “Okay, that shower stall is big enough for at least two.”

Stacie laughed. “Wait – is that why you wanted to get this room?”

Aubrey lifted one delicate brow. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” Stacie said as she walked over use the bathroom herself. “You know we’ve all got a shower fetish.”

“Now, at least.” Beca laughed. “And it’s entirely your fault, Bree.”

Aubrey shrugged. “You’re welcome.” She handed out room keys to the rest of them. “But we gotta go, unless anyone else has to use the facilities?” She looked at Beca with a knowing smirk. Beca stuck her tongue out as her bladder reminded her of its existence, slipping into the bathroom when Stacie came out. “I’ll text Cynthia Rose.” Chloe was next and then Aubrey was ushering them out the door.

“She said Concerto C, right?” Stacie asked as she hit the button for the elevator.

“Yes. Ballroom level.” Aubrey answered absently, looking into the mirror by the elevator and combing her fingers through the ends of her hair.

Beca watched her for a few seconds, realizing that Aubrey had done the same thing in the room. At the time, Beca hadn’t really been paying attention, since Aubrey had also tied her Bellas scarf in place around her neck. But looking at Aubrey now, alternating between fluffing at her hair and adjusting her scarf, Beca could clearly see the nerves. But before Beca could move, Stacie was there.

She put her hand on Aubrey’s forearm to still it. “You look beautiful, Bree.” Stacie gave one final adjustment to Aubrey’s scarf and linked their fingers together.

Aubrey smiled. “Thanks, love.” Her hands finally stilled under Stacie’s touch.

Beca smiled gently, watching how Aubrey immediately settled under Stacie’s touch; implicitly believing her over her own insecurities that Beca knew whispered in the back of her mind. Stacie was always so soft with Aubrey, so loving and gentle and the ‘forever love’ between them had always resonated deeply within Beca as it was the same as she shared with Chloe. It was real and deep and, though she’d never admit to having one, Beca’s insanely strong romantic side had always considered Staubrey’s slow burn love affair a beautiful, if sometimes heart wrenching, romance.

Now that love was shared between the four of them and Beca sometimes thought she’d burst from how happy they all made each other.

The four of them piled into the elevator and Beca pressed the button for the ballroom floor, feeling her own nerves start to rise. Beca forced herself to stop tapping her foot, afraid Aubrey would pick up on her tension and let it spin her back up.

Even though That Whore Alice™ hadn’t been at any of the reunions, Beca always became keyed up just before they walked in. This year was even worse, knowing more about how awful she’d been to both Aubrey and Chloe for three years. She knew Stacie had moved from being angry but amused and willing to let Beca fight for their girls honor to ‘I’m going to rip this bitch apart with my bare hands.’

As adamant about ripping into her as Beca was, she was equally sure that Aubrey wouldn’t want them to make a scene. That she would insist that they just put everything behind them even as she played with the scarf at her neck the entire time, screaming out her nerves for anyone who knew her body language as well as Stacie, Chloe and Beca did.

The door opened and Aubrey and Chloe stepped out first, Beca and Stacie like bookends on either side. Following the signs, they made their way around the corner and down to where most of the event rooms opened into a large foyer. Following the sounds of music – Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” – and laughter to the third set of doors on the left, they walked into the room, Beca and Stacie still bracketing the other two.

Stopping just inside the doorway, they surveyed the room, looking for familiar faces. Cynthia Rose hadn’t told them where their table was, but even in a room filled with almost two hundred Bellas, they should be easy to find. Beca bopped her head, wondering who had control of the music as the song changed and began playing another Swift song, “Bad Blood”. Not that she minded Swift and this particular video always made her laugh because ‘The Trinity’ looked like Emily but usually DJ’s liked to switch up the artists to keep people from being bored. Maybe she should have taken them up on the offer to do the music this year.

“I see you two are still with the anti-Bella and the college tramp. I thought you slut bags were paired the other way. Or do you deviants just wife swap?”

The unpleasant voice broke into Beca’s musing and she looked in confusion at the woman who stood in front of them. She wore a condescending sneer, clearly amused with herself, and without even knowing who she was, Beca hated her on sight. Then she felt Aubrey stiffen beside her and the realization of who this was and what she had said washed over Beca like a wave of heat. She swore her vision tinted red as she went from casual to volcanic in the space of a heartbeat.

“Yes.”

Chloe’s voice knocked Beca – already thrown from suddenly being confronted with the woman she’d spent the past six years despising – further off balance. She turned her head and blinked at Chloe, who was standing contentedly on Aubrey’s other side. Peripherally she realized that they’d drawn a crowd that formed a half circle around them.

That Whore Alice™ paused, whatever sarcastic comment that she was about to say dying on her lips. “Excuse me?” The tone, however, that was still pure vile bitch and Beca felt her jaw clench again.

“Yes.” Chloe repeated patiently, as if to a small child. “To both. And it’s goooood.”

And, in front of every single Bella in attendance, as Taylor Swift sang the most fitting song for this long overdue confrontation, Chloe pulled Stacie down into a kiss that looked like it was guaranteed to pull the breath from her lungs and make her forget about anyone else around them.

Beca, torn between watching what was always one of the hottest things she’d ever seen and That Whore Alice’s™ reaction, gave a mental shrug. Chloe had put them on this path and Aubrey hadn’t run out of the room in panic or thrown up on anyone. Yet – though she did maybe look a little bit green. If there was ever going to be a moment to have that stress reaction come back, this was it. Since she hadn’t, Beca hoped Aubrey would be okay with what she was about to do.

She slipped her arms around Aubrey’s waist and prayed she’d follow Beca’s lead as she turned them both to dip Aubrey into the most dramatic, cliché movie moment kiss. Thankfully Aubrey relaxed enough to let her and Beca felt herself warmed by the trust in those green eyes. She smiled gently before looking up, her eyes hardening. “Jealous that she never let you kiss her when you tried, egg breath?”

That Whore Alice™, who had been watching Chloe and Stacie essentially going for the deep kiss world record, look over at Beca, her shocked expression switching back to anger. Beca gave her a small vicious grin before looking down at Aubrey, watching carefully for any sign of panic or disagreement. When she didn’t see either of those things, and in fact Aubrey was looking at her with a hint of dare in her eyes, Beca let herself close the distance between them and kissed Aubrey deeply and thoroughly.

Beca tried to channel all her anger into tenderness, wanting to make Aubrey feel safe and loved even in the midst of her literal nightmare come to life. Aubrey returned the kiss hesitantly at first then eagerly, her body relaxing further into Beca’s embrace as her right hand cupped Beca’s cheek. Eventually Beca heard Chloe came up for air and, reluctantly, lifted her head.

“That’s never not hot.” Stacie fanned herself, turning as Beca brought Aubrey up from their dip. Stacie reached across Chloe and briefly, gently, gripped Aubrey’s wrist. Right over the watch she’d given Aubrey for her birthday last year. The one that reminded Aubrey that Stacie was always with her and kept her centered.

Chloe’s face was flushed as she reached up and wiped off a smudge of her lipstick from Stacie’s face. “I’ll say. Makes me want to go back upstairs to our room.”

Beca snorted as she watched Aubrey carefully for signs of distress and found nothing but love. “You’re the one who told me that we had to close the place down because it’s ‘tradition.’” Beca strove to keep her voice light, all too aware of the ball of anger standing beside them.

Chloe shrugged. “I’m allowed to change my mind.” Beca noticed Chloe was also watching Aubrey carefully, though she didn’t think it was obvious to anyone but the three of them. Chloe ran her hand down Aubrey’s side where her tattoos lay hidden under her dress and Aubrey relaxed just a fraction more.

“Yeah, B.” Stacie winked at Beca. “Chloe’s definitely allowed to change her mind if it means we get to go back up and make use of that king sized bed.”

Beca, desperately trying to ignore the fact that they were now the central focus of the room, shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going to argue getting naked.”

Aubrey cleared her throat. “While that sounds like heaven, love, I think the rest of the gang would be disappointed if we didn’t stay.”

Beca linked her right hand with Aubrey’s left, deciding that ignoring the former Bella captain was the best course of action. She was afraid if she looked into that disapproving face again, she’d lose what little control she had over her anger. Aubrey’s hand in hers kept Beca grounded as much as she was trying to reassure Aubrey that she was loved.

As the four of them detoured around her, That Whore Alice™ turned in place and watched them go. Just when Beca thought they were in the clear, she spoke up behind them.

“They’ll end up leaving you too, Posen. Everyone does when they realize you’re just a one note show.” She scoffed and let out a bray of unattractive laughter. “I mean, if daddy doesn’t care, you can’t expect anyone else to.” She snorted and Beca thought she sounded like a bull. “And really, can you blame them? You’re such a disappointment.  Unable to hold a team together for one single year? I knew you’d screw it up.”

Beca felt her pulse pounding in her face as her blood pressure shot up. Someone to her right practically snarled and she couldn’t tell if it was Stacie or Chloe. Her left fist was already clenching as let go of Aubrey’s hand with her right and turned, taking a step forward. She was already picturing the connection of her fist to that bitch’s jaw despite the portion of her brain that was telling her Aubrey would not want her to cause a scene. But that part was steadily shrinking and gave up without a fight when she saw the cow standing there, one hand on her waist as the other waved up and down in Aubrey’s direction. Sneering at Aubrey like she was trash.

Beca was going to tear the fucking bitch’s head off.

There was a flash of red, the sound of air whistling around a fast moving object followed by a loud and meaty smack.

By the time Beca’s brain had parsed out what happened, That Whore Alice™ was flat on her back with a wrathful Chloe Beale standing over her, blue eyes flashing like the embodiment of Zeus’ own vengeful lightning.

Dimly Beca realized the song had changed to “Look What You Made Me Do.” It didn’t even start at the beginning – it jumped straight to the chorus a minute in.

Ooh, look what you made me do Look what you made me do Look what you just made me do

‘That DJ is on their game,’ she thought idly, jarred right out of her anger for several incredible surreal moments.

Dazed, the prone woman put one hand to her already swelling eye and started to push to her feet but stopped with a flinch when Chloe pointed at her. Aubrey stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Chloe’s shoulder but the redhead merely patted it without turning around.

“You just stay down there on the ground where you belong.” Chloe’s voice was quiet and all the more deadly for it. “You have always been a bitch and I see nothing has changed since you graduated. You are a horrible, spiteful and jealous person who takes their own insecurities out on others and I’m not going to stand for it anymore.” Chloe looked up at the crowd, most of which took a step back, to Beca’s amusement. “Your minions aren’t here and even if they were, I’d still try and take you apart before I let you say anything else mean about Aubrey.”

“Chlo,” Aubrey slid her hand to Chloe’s back. “You don’t have to…” She trailed off Stacie stepped over and put her arm around Aubrey’s waist. Beca took her hand again, feeling the slight tremor in Aubrey’s fingers before they tightened on Beca’s own. She raised their hands and pressed her lips to Aubrey’s knuckles.

Chloe didn’t even slow down. “You’re trash, Alice. You were a slut in college so you called everyone else a slut bag to make yourself feel better. You apparently also had repressed lesbian tendencies as you tried to kiss Aubrey your senior year. Fortunately Aubrey has better taste.” Chloe paused to smirk and even in her anger, Beca wanted to laugh because she knew Chloe was remembering her first taste of Aubrey. “Beca may have been the ‘anti-Bella’ at the start, but she’s the one who helped us win finals. Her arrangement is the one that helped us win Worlds.”

Chloe paused to take a deep breath and Beca wasn’t ashamed to admit she was in awe of her normally laidback wife. Though, really, she shouldn’t be surprised as Chloe had always been fierce in her defense of her loved ones.  

“And Stacie was never the college tramp, you sad little hag.” Chloe spit out contemptuously. “Just because you had to sleep around to get anyone to spend time with you doesn’t mean everyone has that problem. Stacie has more class in her pinky than you will ever have in your entire. Worthless. Body.”

Beca looked over at Aubrey and could see she was warring with an almost giddy delight at watching Chloe take their tormenter apart and a rising worry about the repercussions of the past few minutes. Stacie, her arm firmly around Aubrey, merely grinned with glee. Beca could relate – while she desperately had wanted to be the one to take her out, she’d have been willing to let Stacie do the honors; after all, it sounded like Aubrey had taken the brunt of things. Neither of them had even suspected that Chloe would literally beat them to the punch.

Beca couldn’t lie. It was hot.

That Whore Alice™ finally pushed herself to her feet, her left eye almost all the way shut now. “My lawyer liked that.”

Aubrey let out a startled laugh. “Did you actually just quote ‘Scream 3’ at us?” She laughed again when Alice flinched. “You would be the person who would memorize a line like that to try and sound cool.” Aubrey shook her head, already digging into her purse and pulled out one of her business cards. “Call my office, they’ll arrange a meeting.” She tossed the card and it bounced off That Whore Alice’s™ chest and Beca stifled a laugh as she jerked in reaction. Aubrey closed her purse and looked back at her, disdain practically dripping from her words.

Beca was thrilled to see Aubrey’s paralysis break as the confident and strong women Beca had always known came forward; to watch as  Aubrey finally reclaimed - for good - those small pieces of herself that Alice had shaved off with every horrible word spoken over three years.

“As Chloe’s lawyer, I advise you both to stay away from each other the rest of the night.” Aubrey took a step forward though not enough to bring her out of Stacie’s grip. “And as their lover,” her wave encompassed the three women around her and Beca heard the love and pride in her voice. “I’m telling you that you better not come near us or I’ll let them do what they’ve been dreaming of doing since they found out all the shit you put us through during college.”

Stacie eyed That Whore Alice™ as if she were a particularly disgusting bug. “You ever come near any of my girls again, I will end you.” Her voice was knife sharp and Beca felt the steel in it. She took a step past Aubrey and smiled with satisfaction when That Whore Alice™ took a matching step back. “They will never find your fucking body.” It was said with such finality that even Beca was impressed, a little nervous and lot turned on.

Beca shook herself and forced the weight off her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go find the girls. She’s not worth a single second more of our time.” She felt lighter having said it and even more as the truth of it settled and she let go of her rage. “She’s just a small person who needs to make others suffer so she can get off on it.” Beca eyed her disdainfully. “You’re less than nothing.”

Already dismissing Alice from her thoughts, Beca turned to the rest of them. “I need a drink. I’ve got a really bad taste in my mouth.” She knew she’d said the wrong thing before she’d finished speaking and could only watch as the sly smirk spread across Stacie’s face.

“We’ll take care of that later, Baby. Don’t you worry.” She urged Aubrey forward with the arm around her waist and collected Chloe with her right. “But we can definitely drink first.”

“Dirty bird.” Aubrey said casually as they moved into the space left by the crowd that parted like water, tugging Beca with them by their linked hands.

“That’s why we love her.” Chloe agreed as the music changed again.

“Seriously, when the fuck did our life become scored by Taylor Swift,” Beca said, exasperated as “Shake It Off” started playing. She looked around and began to laugh as she saw Cynthia Rose step away from the DJ platform to their left. “Oh for fucks sake. Of course it’s one of ours.”

Familiar faces appeared in the crowd as one by one the rest of their Bellas surrounded them.

“Our table is over here, slugger.” Ashley half bowed and pointed the way. “Jessica went to get some ice.”

Beca let go of Aubrey’s hand as they reached the table and pulled out a chair. “Madam.” She grinned when Aubrey rolled her eyes and sat. Stacie had done the same for Chloe and when she would’ve sat on Chloe’s right, Beca pulled on her arm. She knew Stacie still needed to be near Aubrey, still able to feel the waves of emotion rolling off her usually reserved friend. Stacie smiled gratefully at her and took the seat Beca held out. Patting her shoulder, Beca moved over to the seat on Chloe’s right.

“I’m sorry I…” Chloe began but Beca shook her head. She knew Chloe didn’t need to apologize for bringing their relationship to the open; she could tell by the utter lack of tension in Aubrey and Stacie that they weren’t remotely mad either.

“No need, Chlo.” Aubrey put her hand on Chloe’s arm.

“None.” Stacie rested her hand next to Aubrey’s and they both smiled. Beca heard Chloe’s breath hitched once and knew she needed to provide a distraction before Chloe started them all down the path to waterworks.

“Let me look.” Beca gently took Chloe’s hand in her own and inspected it carefully. “Can you move it?” Chloe wiggled her fingers and Beca let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I almost broke mine when I punched that guy at regionals.”

“Aubrey was totally turned on by that, by the way.” Chloe said casually as the rest of the girls took seats around them.

“What?” Beca looked up with a laugh. “I was sure you were going to kick me out of the group.”

“Totes. At one point I thought she was going to start yelling things like a coach from the sidelines.” Chloe grinned at her best friend.

Aubrey shrugged and leaned on the table. “Looking back at it… yeah, it was hot. My brothers still ask me to tell them the story at least once a year.”

Beca rolled her eyes. “You should never have told them that at Thanksgiving. They still call me Rocky.” She looked up as Jessica brought over a baggie of ice wrapped in a towel. “Thanks, Jess.” She took it gratefully and placed it over Chloe’s knuckles who winced. “Sorry. But this will keep the swelling down.”

She was completely aware that they were the center of attention and was trying to avoid dealing with the events of the past ten minutes. Focusing on Chloe’s hand gave her some breathing room to sort out what she was feeling.

There was worry – maybe a lot of worry – because she knew what they had would never be considered normal. Most people couldn’t or wouldn’t understand it. And the women sitting at this table were her family and she was afraid they would turn their backs once they knew it hadn’t just been said for Alice’s benefit.

There was some relief at finally having it in the open – keeping secrets from their friends had never sat well with her, no matter the fact that she had agreed with the others to keep it just theirs for the time being. That had been especially true of the last few months. It had grown more difficult to remember not to run her hand through Aubrey’s hair or lay on Stacie’s back when Jessley was over.

Part of that difficulty was that they’d essentially lived together since they got back, migrating from one house to the other in a group 90% of the time. But most of it was the fact that they were still skittish after the events in France. Their reassuring touches and kisses had remained constant and maybe even more frequent after Chloe and Beca had got the second half of their ‘gay wedding vows’ as Beca called it, mostly to keep from crying whenever she thought of their matching tattoos.

One way or another, they wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. Either they would be accepted or… they’d be left alone. Beca tried not to think about the pain that would cause her and took a deep breath.

‘Time to face the music.’

But when she looked up, half braced for disgust, she found nothing but love and acceptance. Emily was practically vibrating in her seat next to Beca, her grin so wide Beca was surprised it didn’t hurt.

What she didn’t see was surprise.

“Holy shit.” Beca stared around the table, seeing Aubrey’s head turn sharply toward her. “You guys already knew, didn’t you?”

There was a pause that felt like an eternity before Amy spoke into the silence. “It’s not like you guys were really subtle about it on the tour.”

“Or since we moved into our house,” Ashley added. “I think the number of times you guys have kissed thinking we weren’t in sight is up in the double digits.”

“Triple,” Jessica said with a grin. “It’s cute as hell to watch you guys catch your breath and try to not look all mussed up.”

Beca groaned and lowered her burning face to the table. “I may need your ice, Chlo.”

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t say anything,” Chloe murmured as she reached over to stroke Beca’s hair with her left hand.

“Wasn’t our story to tell.” Jessica offered. “Isn’t that what you always say?”

“Though, if we’re being honest,” Cynthia Rose said. “We may have started a betting pool two years ago. After the first all group Disney trip.”

“What are you talking about?” Beca rolled her head to look at her. “That was right after we all got married. We didn’t even know then.”

“Yeah, but…” She trailed off, taking out her phone as she thought. “The way you guys interact – honestly since you guys moved – was like four interconnected pieces. You weren’t just anticipating Chloe’s needs, but Aubrey’s and Stacie’s too. All of you were, really, but it stood out with Beca because she’d only done that before with Chlo.”

“You were like that in our first trip.” Emily offered almost hesitantly. “If I didn’t know you guys, I’d have had a hard time telling who was actually dating who.”

Aubrey finally spoke up. “And you aren’t…”

“Aubrey Posen-Conrad, you better not be about to say ‘disgusted.’” Flo sat up straight in her chair. “You know us better than that. You’re family and the four of you have created something amazing and there is no shame in love.”

“It’s beautiful.”

They all looked in surprise at Lilly – though Beca supposed it was ‘Esther’ today, since they could hear her so clearly. Beca wasn’t sure yet about this whole ‘Lilly was Satan’ thing, or the fact that she seemed to move easily between the girl they’d known for the last seven years and this new persona three months ago. She decided her prior decision was best – react based on who she seemed to be on a given day and, at the worst, apparently Satan was on their side as he had helped them win the ICCA’s and Worlds. Beca barely avoided the trap she’d gotten stuck in last time, which was wondering if a capella was the devil’s music after all. That spiral had lasted a weekend until the other three had pulled her out of it with enforced naked cuddling.

“You guys mean that. You… really don’t care?” Stacie said slowly.

“Just because it’s not everyone’s normal doesn’t mean that yours is wrong.” Emily shrugged. “My mom says the world would be a happier place if people would stop worrying about whoever everyone else was fucking and have more sex of their own.”

The laugh that left Beca was loud, ragged and more than half a sob. “You can’t swear, Legacy, it’s too ado-.” She broke off and blinked rapidly as her words finally sunk in. “You told your MOM?!”

“It was an accident!” Emily grabbed Beca’s hand. “The day I played my song for you guys over Skype, Aubrey almost kissed you and I ran into my doorframe when I figured it out.”

Stacie gave a delighted laugh. “I told you. Totally should’ve bet.”

“I ended up with a small black eye and mom wanted to know why.” Emily squirmed in her chair. “I’m still a terrible liar…”

“We know.” Amy snorted then laughed when Emily flipped her off. “You’re getting more and more Beca-like after every visit, Legacy.”

“…and I told her what I thought I saw.” Emily grinned at Amy then looked back at the four of them. “I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but… She wasn’t surprised either. Not after last year’s reunion.” She looked at Stacie and grinned. “You put your boobs on Beca’s head and she didn’t try to kill you.”

“Still before we’d figured it out ourselves.” Beca shook her head. “Seriously, why am I always the last to know these things?”  She sat back in her chair and put her hand on Chloe’s thigh, needing the contact to stay grounded as her emotions swirled chaotically through her.

She was surprised she didn’t have whiplash from the violent swing from protective rage through fear of losing their friends to the current feeling of giddy joy and relief making her heart swell with extremely schmoopy happiness.

She looked over at Chloe but was instead greeted by all three of her girls watching her affectionately. Her heart skipped a beat and, without thinking, she spoke. “I love you.”

‘I am so fucking mushy.’ Beca thought to herself.

“We love you too, sweet cheeks.”

Beca flushed at Ashley’s sly tone. “Oh my god. You guys have been saving up all your teasing, haven’t you?”

Cynthia Rose nodded. “You have no idea.”

“But you wiiillll,” Jessica said, practically singing it.

Beca heaved out a sigh and her three girls reacted as expected. Stacie winked at her, Aubrey’s lips twitched into a grin and Chloe leaned over to kiss her cheek. All three of them spoke in unison.

“You love us.”

Beca laughed again, this one free of tears. “Holy shit do I need a drink.”

“Ooh, I’ll go get a bottle of something.” Amy pushed up from her seat and was gone before Beca could stop her.

“One of us will hold your hair.” Chloe promised as she flexed her hand slowly under the ice pack. “We promise.

‘I am so fucking lucky to have all of these women in my life.’

~A~

Aubrey sat back, Stacie’s hand a warm presence on her back, and took stock of how she was feeling.

Lighter, was the biggest answer.

She hadn’t even been aware of how much Alice’s treatment of her had weighed in her mind until it was suddenly gone. It wasn’t even like she thought of Alice outside of any discussions with the other three or for the two or three weeks before one of the reunions.

But apparently that nagging voice had drilled its way into her brain where it lodged and poisoned her self-image from the inside out. Chloe had knocked some of it loose their senior year. Stacie had dulled more of it when Aubrey stopped running from her feelings. The three of them together had made the biggest difference. All those talks they had before, during and after sex had gone a long way to soothing the anxieties that had lingered.

But today, finally being face to face with her former captain had brought it all back in one sickening heartbeat.

At first she’d braced for Beca to immediately launch herself like a tiny rage missile; waited for that amazing left hook to make a repeat appearance. Or for Stacie to pull her apart piece by piece.

She’d begun the process to prepare herself to shield them from Alice. She was their Captain and it was her job to take the brunt of anything that came their way and protect all her Bellas.

Until her girls had physically and verbally formed a wall to protect her.

She’d certainly never expected Chloe pull Stacie into a kiss so deep that Aubrey knew Stacie’s toes had curled. The shock of it made it easy to give in to Beca’s silent plea and allow herself to be dipped and kissed in front of the entire reunion. Kissing Beca was as natural as breathing, at this point, and it was easy to lose herself in it for a precious few moments. She wasn’t ashamed of them or what they had and anyone who tried to sling insults would have to go through her first.

The fact that each of them reminded her that she wasn’t alone, each In their different way, had almost cracked her façade and moved her to tears.

She definitely couldn’t have predicted Chloe would also be the one to put Alice on the floor and give her a black eye.

Aubrey wasn’t even ashamed to admit – now that she’d had time to collect her thoughts – that it had been just as hot as when Beca had done it all those years ago. Chloe had certainly been right about that, though it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed or that Aubrey had even realized consciously until this past year. She’d spent a lot of time remembering different moments her senior year in a new light. Some she shared with the others, some she kept back until the right moment. Like Beca punching that Tonehanger.

They had always gone out of their way to show her she was special to them – something that had only increased when they’d merged their lives together as one. But today they’d showed it to the world and Aubrey felt the warmth of it surround her in a coat of armor that Alice couldn’t even dream to scratch.

Chloe’s punch was nothing to the verbal assault she then unleashed. Every single word uttered in complete and calm disdain, reducing Alice from the towering figure in their memories to a sad, pathetic creature clutching her swollen eye as they walked away.

And Beca – the onetime pain in her ass – had been her center and held her hand the entire time; lending her strength and unending faith in Aubrey. Keeping her grounded when she’d started to spiral at the talk of lawyers before she’d been able to get a grip on her fear. Aubrey knew she’d talk circles around Alice’s lawyer before offering an out of court settlement that would satisfy even that greedy bitch.

Stacie’s quiet promise of what would happen if Alice opened her mouth again had melted Aubrey’s heart into a puddle, a response she wasn’t sure was appropriate when one’s spouse threatened to kill someone. Especially when you knew they would follow through on it without hesitation.

And, in typical fashion, they covered their deep running emotions with sex banter until they reached the dubious safety of their table. Banter that Aubrey couldn’t wait to bring to life when they were safely back in their room alone. And naked.

Aubrey almost cracked then, at the acceptance from these women who had become her family in a way that Alice’s group had never been. It didn’t surprise her that they knew; they’d been getting the eye from Emily for a while now and she was almost certain that Jessica had walked into the kitchen once while Chloe had Aubrey pinned against the counter – and then just as quickly walked out - but by the time they looked up at what Aubrey had thought sounded like a tiny ‘Eep!’ they were alone again.

She turned to her right and watched Chloe’s familiar profile as her best friend laughed at something Emily was saying. After a brief hesitation, realizing that it couldn’t really get any worse, she leaned forward to rest her chin on Chloe’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Chloe turned her head until their noses brushed. “For what?”

“Standing up to her for me.” Aubrey shifted her head slightly, making Chloe’s nose scrunch at the slight tickle.

“How do you know I didn’t do it for me?” Chloe’s eyes were so blue this close and Aubrey never got tired of finding how the light revealed something new every time it shifted.

“Because, like you – like our girls – I’ll let people say whatever they want about me, just let it roll off my back.” Aubrey tilted her head further, Chloe’s breath whispering over her lips. “Say one thing about any of you, and I will end them.” She brought their lips together in a gentle kiss that Aubrey felt from head to toe. “And I love you so very much for it.”

“You’ve always been part of me. I won’t let anyone hurt what’s mine.” The voice was soft, the tone gentle, but the possessive fire underneath it sent a pleasant shiver down Aubrey’s back. Chloe tipped their lips together once more. “Ever.”

Aubrey forced herself to sit back, otherwise she wasn’t sure if she could keep their kisses soft and gentle. A motion caught her eye and she looked past Chloe and Beca to find Emily wiping away tears that were streaming down her face.

“Sorry, I just… This is like finding out Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are real.” She took the tissue that Aubrey dug out of her purse and blew her nose. “It’s dumb, I know, but seeing how much you love each other just… Oh it’s beautiful, Aubrey.”

Aubrey felt herself blush. “Thank you. For not… rejecting us.” It wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, but it was close enough for now. “You mean a great deal to all of us and I would have been crushed if this made you change your mind about moving in in a few months.”

“What!?” Emily’s voice briefly covered everyone else’s as they all stopped to look at her. “Um. Sorry. Ignore me. Please?” The conversations at the table slowly picked back up though Aubrey could tell they were all half keeping an ear out to see what had caused the outburst.

Her face red, Emily shook her head. “Are you kidding? Nothing could make me change my mind about that. It’s what I’m looking forward to the most now that I’ve graduated. I mean, I’ll go see my parents for a month, Benji till however long before he has to start rehearsing for his new play – but I’m totally stoked about coming to live with you!”

“Nobody says ‘stoked’, Legacy.” Beca said it almost absently, as if she wasn’t really paying attention. “Stop trying to copy me.”

“If no one says it, how can I be copying you?” Emily bumped their shoulders together. “Just wait, soon you’ll have me around to keep you in line all the time.”

Beca let out an exaggerated groan. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you want me to write all your songs for your new album.” Emily answered immediately. “And because you loooooove me.”

“More the first than the latter,” Beca said before Chloe poked her in the side. “Alright alright. Yeah. I do.”

“And we may have filmed that.” Jessica was telling Stacie, pulling Aubrey and Beca’s attention immediately.

“You what?” Beca asked, her eyebrows high.

“Recorded your rumble.” Cynthia Rose repeated. “We heard someone say her name and, when she was a raging bitch, we realized it had to be the same person. That’s I came up with the idea to play TSwift when you came in.”

“Thanks for that.” Chloe grinned. “It was definitely interesting.”

“Or insane,” Beca muttered. “But continue – I didn’t see any of you until after it was all over.”

“Hold on, there was a whole process.” Emily bounced in her chair and Aubrey smiled in response to her excitement. “CR was in charge of the music and Jessica, Ashley and Lilly were the designated camerawomen.”  

“Why those three?” Stacie asked, sliding her hand over to play with Aubrey’s fingers.

“Because no one ever notices us,” Ashley said with a smile. “We’ve literally been here the whole time.”

Aubrey laughed easily, another hurtful moment of their past having been changed to new memories made with joy instead of anger. “Guess you guys got more than you bargained for, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Jessica leaned forward in her chair. “I got a perfect shot of Alice’s face when Chloe punched her. Lilly said she’d edit all three videos together to make one amazing montage.”

“Thanks… Lilly.” Beca said with only the smallest of hesitations. They were still trying to decide how to refer to her, most of them still using Lilly by default. She didn’t seem to mind, thankfully, as seven years was a tough habit to break. They were working on it, but sometimes Lilly seemed to regress back to her silent, slightly terrifying ways and Aubrey often wondered if the rest of them had suffered a group hallucination brought on by the explosion.

“You’re welcome, Beca.” Lilly said happily. “I’ll have Jessley send their videos to me before we leave so I can work on it when I get home.”

“Aca-awesome!” Chloe said enthusiastically. “It kind of all passed in a blur and I don’t remember half of what I said.”

“By the power of your words, you gutted and field dressed her like a deer and it was kind of hot.” Aubrey said without thinking. She blinked when she became aware of the entire table watching her. “Too much too soon?”

“No – it was more the image of a deer juxtaposed with the four of you in The Expanse that I’m having problems with.” Jessica said, fanning herself. “It just took me a minute to get rid of the deer. I’m good now.” She wiggled her eyebrows when Beca just stared at her.

“Holy crap.” Beca shook her head. “What have we created?”

“A safe space to bring out all our secret fantasies.” Cynthia Rose said then raised both her hands. “Just kidding. Maybe.” She winked and clicked her tongue.

Beca groaned again. “You guys are going to be the death of me.”

Emily stroked her hand down Beca’s hair and Aubrey choked back her giggle. “It’s ok, Aca-Mom. I’ll take care of you.” She beamed when Beca flipped her off. “See, you’re doing better already!”

“Seriously, Amy better come back with a bucket full of beers and not just the tequila she’s going to try and make me drink. I need at least five beers before that happens.” Beca started looking around the room. “Is there a waitress or just the bar on the far side?”

Letting the presence of her three soothe her ragged edges, Aubrey took a cleansing breath, willing the last of her tension out of her body. She turned to ask Chloe how her hand was and saw Beca’s face go slack in shock. Before she could turn around, someone spoke behind her.

“Aubrey.”

Aubrey froze, suddenly lightheaded as all the blood drained from her face. As if trapped in a nightmare, she turned slowly in her seat, her eyes reluctantly lifting to meet green eyes the exact shade of her own. From far away she heard herself answer.

“Mother?”

#Bechloe Fanfiction #Staubrey Fanfiction #Poly Bellas Squared #Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Aubrey Posen #Stacie Conrade #wlw #A Shared Lifetime #cyc writes #cyc fic tease

[gone-cotta]

It’s Okay to be Broken Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Abusive parents, cussing

Hey,  you also have a brother in this :)

Requested: NOPE, but I would appreciate requests since I LITERALLY HAVE NO BRAIN AND CAN’T COME UP WITH GOOD IDEAS (note: this is my idea, I’m not taking someone else’s, its just based on my personal life and I think its kinda crappy)

Summary: Richie’s parents aren’t the best...everyone in the Loser’s club knows that. You find yourself an outlet for his rage, a way for him to voice his thoughts, opinions, and rant about them. You don’t mind at all. In fact, you find it strangely nice in a way to be alone with this boy, the real Richie. The one who isn’t contantly making innaproptirate jokes and trying to show off. However, he catches something going on in your life that makes him wonder; Why had he told you so much when you haven’t brought up your issues?

You found yourself with alone with Richie again, watching the sun set from the edge of the quarry. The two of you had spent many days like this, talking through personal issues, confiding in each other to keep the secret.

Today, it was yet another of Richie’s dilemmas. His father, a man of 40 who possesed a commanding aura, had kicked Richie out for the day, again. The boy had arrived at the quarry with the rest of the other Losers, a frustrated grimace on his face. But as soon as he came within a few feet of them, he put on his mask.

Richie Tozier had on a mask. An ‘Its-Okay-I’m-Alright’ type of mask that he wore almost every moment of every day. The mask that joked, laughed, and teased. Nobody knew the boy under the mask. Nobody except you. 

You two sat on the thick trunk of a fallen tree, one arm around Richie’s shoulder, as the boy leaned into you. You were both silent, looking out over the edge of the quarry at the calm water below. Richie’s hair was ruffled and damp from swimming earlier, looking as fluffy as ever. You inhaled deeply, taking in the surroundings. 

“I just don’t get it. Why would they decide to have a kid, and then treat me like this?” Richie groaned, and you sighed. 

“Bad things happen to good people all the time, Rich. It sucks ass, but in the end, we all find a way to deal with it” you murmur, and close you eyes. The boy grumbled something under his breath before falling silent once more. Today had been particularly rough for him, and you knew it would be best to let him get out what he had to say. You said nothing.

A sudden breeze whisked across the clifftop, and you drew your arm away from Richie to grab your sweater, which lay discarded beside you. You wrapped it around yourself, glancing around. 

“How late is it Richie?” you asked, and the boy glanced at his watch. 

“Uhhh...7:43 I think” He said, blue eyes flickering down to his pale wrist. You cursed, standing up and brushing yourself off. 

“Shit. I’m supposed to be home by 8″ You groaned, and Richie glanced up at you. 

“Are you gonna get in trouble?” He asked warily, and you nodded before catching sight of his face. A troubled expression had found its way onto his face, his eyes dark behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

“Nothing serious, nothing serious!” You amended. “What about you? Are you able to get home by now?” 

While you knew most everything that went on in the bespectacled boy’s life, he knew close to nothing about yours. He knew you had strict parents, who would get you int trouble and were fiercely ‘overprotective’, as you liked to say. But other than that, most of your evening together were spent talking about him. It was nice, and you didn’t mind it the slightest. You just thought that Richie had enough going on without worrying about your issues.

“Yeah. If not, I’ll go to Ed’s house or something. Maybe if I’m gone until tomorrow my dad will forget he was mad at me at all” Richie said with a bitter laugh, and you groaned, shaking your head at the boy. 

“’Chee, things will get better alright? I’ll make sure of it” You comforted, and the pair of you began through the undergrowth, towards the area where the ended. Scuffing the dry earth with the toe of your sneaker, you pushed passed the thick trees. Emerging into the clearing, you looked back at Richie.

The lanky boy shot you a half-grin, turning towards Jackson Street where he would turn onto Wickham Road, on his way home. “See you tomorrow, Y/n!” He called, and you smiled. “Thanks for...today...making me feel better” 

“No problem Richie. I don’t mind it” you reply, as the boy begins to disappear into the darkening night. You turn around just as his voice echoes out of the dark one last time. The faint echo of Richie’s laughter.

“Maybe tomorrow you can meke me feel even better...” 

You rolled you eyes at the flirty remark, and it was only later as you walked the dark, deserted streets of Derry, that you realized he had once again put on his mask.

~

“Y/n, howabout you actually help out?” Your father said sharply, as you stuggled to fold a large sheet. You huffed in annoyance, before throwing the sheet back into the basket in frustration.

“Wha-What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, wide eyes and a voice filled with quiet anger. 

“I can’t fold it! I can’t! It’s 4 times my size, and not even my sheet” You said, and your father got closer. You had been folding laundry on the table for the past 2 hours, and your legs ached from standing, putting you in an awful mood. Your father however, didn’t seem to understand.

“So I’ll teach you how” He said, cutting across you with a thick arm to snatch the sheet. You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Come on. Grab that end, now” He said, and you loosely held the end.

Later, after finishing your entire basket of laundry you turned back to your dad. “I’m done. Can I go sit down now?” You asked, gesturing to the array of clothes folded in the counter in front of you. Your dad scoffed, turning to you as he set a folded shirt down in the neat pile he had created.

“No way. You’ve barely done anything. We’ve done all the work” He said, and your brother looked at your from beside him with wide eyes. He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless sort of gesture, and you gaped at your dad.

“What? I did an entire basket!” You exclaim, eyes wide. 

“So? Start helping”

You turned furiously to the nearly empty basket they were working on, and your dad handed you a sheet. You fumbled with it for a minute, struggling as you tried to hold back tears of anger and weariness.

“I can’t! I’ve been working since 10:50. It’s almost 2:00, and I’ve been standing the whole time” You burst out, as the sheet grew into a small messy ball in your hands. Your dad turned to face you. “And? Look at your brother, he’s doing his work! Why can’t you be more like him” Your father grumbled, taking a step closer.

“Well, he was literally sitting down and playing 30 minutes ago! I’ve been standing the past, like, 3 hours folding these damn clothes” You burst out, unable to contain your frustration. Your dad turned to you with a livid look etched upon his face. 

“He’s two years younger than you Y/N! I’ve said it a million times!” He said, and dropped the pair of jeans he was holding ont othe counter to take a step towards you. You took a deep breath.

“You’ve been saying that forever. When I was his age, I had to do all the same stuff I’m doing now, and he was doing less and less”

Your dad slammed a fist down on the counter, and your brother flinched from behind him. You, however, held his angry gaze with equally upset eyes. “Watch how you talk to me. Show some respect” he growled in a low voice.

“respect? You literally treat me like dirt half the time I’m at home! Why do I need to treat someone with respect, when they don’t respect me?” You said, before your father moved forwards suddenly so his face was inches from your own.

You moved backwards slightly as he yelled at you, spit flying from his mouth. “fuck. I’m your dad, Y/n, not your friend. You can’t talk to me like that. I give you whatever you want. Whenever you want to hang out with your friends at the quarry, I say yes. I give you money to go eat ice cream with Bev and the other girls-”

“Boys, Dad. The others are all boys. Me and Beverly are the only two girls” You cut across him. You knew you would get in trouble for this, and in doin so you would be able to prove a point. 

Your father froze, his eyes blank. He looked as if you had slapped him, before his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You heard me”

“So you’ve been lying this whole time?” He hissed, his face growing redder by the second. 

“It’s not lying if you never asked. And if I had told you, you wouldn’t have let me hang out with them” You added, before stepping back.

“You’re DAMN right! Now, you need to start talking in a respectful tone before-”

“I’ll start treating you with respect when you start acting like my parent”

Silence. Like the calm before a storm. You stood defiantly, chin tilted up as you stared at your father with blazing eyes. He seemed to not know what to do for a moment, but then changed, a look unlike any other appearing on his face.

“Go to your room. Now. I’m getting the belt” 

“What? No!”

You backed up, and your father reached to his shorts to start undoing the brown leather belt he wore. Your eyes widened. Not again.

“Y/n. Now. You need to learn how to treat me with respect” he said in a frighteningly calm voice, pulling the belt through the last loop and examining it in his rough hands.

“No!” You let out a scream, before turning and running through the door. Running through the hall, you reached your bedroom and grabbed your bag. It was a small pink backpack, succeeding in cuteness more than than storage, but you kept your most important belongings in it. Wallet, keys, and other small emergency items.

Grabbing it, you threw it over one shoulder before you heard your fathers angry steps echoing through the hall. You ran over to the door, slamming it and flipping the small chain lock. A second later, you flinched backwards as he began pounding on the door, shaking the walls.

“Y/n. Let me in. It only gets worse for you” He yelled, and you felt your eyes well with tears, taking steps back.

You shouldn’t be scared of upsetting them. You shouldn’t be scared of them going through your things. You shouldn’t feel like you’re trapped and wanting to go home while you’re sitting in my living room. You shouldn’t be like this. 

Sliding against the opposite wall, you curled into a small ball on the floor. Sobs began to shake your body. You let out a hollow scream as he pounded the door, and a sharp crack sounded. A small metal screw, presumably one of the ones holding the lock in place, landed a few feet from you. 

“Sto-STOP!!” You yelled as the pounding continued, relentless. Just when you feared he would get in, he stopped. 

“Who’s there?” He yelled, voice sharp. You shook as you heard a distant yell from downstairs, and a moment later your fathers footsteps could be heard stomping down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?” 

The reply sounded muffled. Or maybe your father pounding on the door had just made it seem quiet in comparison. Whoever it was, you were certain it would only cause more trouble for you. Stepping up carefully, you made sure to step slowly and quietly through the room. You had memorized which floorboards creaked a long time ago, after your parents had developed a habit of sending you to bed without dinner. That way, you could go downstairs during the night to take food from the cupboards.

Yes, you had numerous hiding spots for food scattered around the house; Behind the thick blankets in the closet, under the TV cabinet...even under your bed you kept a small cardboard box which you occasionally refilled with snacks. It wasn’t often that they did this, but it was often enough that you were prepared. Plus, if the floorboards creaked, you wouldn’t be able to hangout with the Losers psat curfew or go to sleepovers.

Peering out the hallway and looking downstairs, you caught sight of Richie, standing with a furious look on his pale face.

“What the fuck is going on?” you heard him yell. “Where’s Y/n?”

He looked up towards the entrace to the stairs, and you knew he had seen you. You made a quick motion for him to be quiet, hoping the boy would stay quiet for a minute.

“She’s in trouble. Now’s not a good time” Your father said gruffly, and made to grab Richie. The boy ducked quickly, and caught a glance at the belt which your father had attempted to hide behind his back. 

“You--you--” he stammered, and you let out an audible gasp. Your dad turned to look at you, and when you met his eyes...

He had a look of such rage in his eyes. “Go back to your room, Y/n. Now” He snapped. He used the voice he used whenever you were in trouble and your friends were near. Your chest heaving, you took a breath to attempt and calm yourself. 

“No”

Stepping down the stairs, you jumped the last few steps, running to Richie and taking his hand. “What?” Your father said menacingly, beginning to advance. He would continue, whether or not Richie was there.

“I said No!” You screeched, and took a few steps back, pulling Richie with you. The boy had a look of pure shock on his face, and you thought that if you hadn’t been pulling him he probably would be standing still.

“Get away from me!” You let out one last screech at your dad, before he lunged towards you sharply. You yanked Richie back, before turning to the open door. Stumbling, he followed, and you quite literally slipped through your fathers arms. 

He missed you by a literal second. Arms extendeded, he brushed your arm and you shivered. It was like time had slowed. His nail grazed your arm, but despite the sting you held onto Richie. He let out a bellow of rage, and you took off, Richie in tow.

You don’t look back until you reach the quarry.

Gasping and panting, you two stopped by the edge. You turned around, expecting to see him standing there, chasing and yelling at you. But he wasn’t. He was gone, and you knew you weren’t going back.

What were you going to do? You might be able to stay with Beverly. She was now living with her Aunt, who had since moved into her house with her. Her father was in Shawshank Prison, and Bev was happier than ever. You’d ask her later, since the Losers were all meeting up anyways for a movie. As you pondered what you would say, Richie’s voice sounded, tugging you back to reality.

“Okay, pardon my French, but what the fuck is going on”

~

“And then you got there, and you saw what happened. How did you get in, anyways?” You finished explaining what had happened to Richie. He sat in silence, hanging onto every word you spoke, eyes dark. You swallowed nervously, barely brave enough to look at him after all you had just told.

“Your brother let me in, but does that fucking matter? How long had this been going on?” He asked in a carefully steady voice. 

“...honestly, I can’t remember. But, it’s over now, so it’s alright” You said, attempting to smile. The wind whisked through the branches overhead, but other than that, there was silence.

“This-This whole time you’ve been listening to me. My problems. But you’ve had a whole word of your own. You listen to me talk about my parents hitting me, or kicking me out, while yours have been doing similar things. How has this never come up, Y/n?” Richie asked, his voice taunt with emotion. You inhaled shakily. It was evident that Richie was worried, upset even. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were blank. Instead of the constant fidgeting, he was still, holding your gaze.

“I-I...I guess I didn’t want you to worry” You choked out after a minute. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well...you already had enough to worry about. And the others...I don’t talk to them about this kind of stuff too often so..I dunno I just-” You began to feel tears welling in your eyes, and Richie’s gaze softened. 

“Y/n...” he murmured, before wrapping you in a hug. 

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that, but it felt like it could have been forever. You almost wish it had been. With Richie’s hands, one on your back and the other near your waist, you felt warm despite the cool breeze. Your hands looped over his shoudlers, reaching to clasp each other behind his back. His head rested against yours, his curly hair brushing your forehead and ear.

You were certain he felt the tear that rolled down your cheek.

Pulling away, you gazed at Richie with watery eyes, contrasting the small smile playing your lips. The boy gazed at you with an unreadable expression, before reaching for you again and pulling you into a kiss.

His lips were surpisingly soft. He tasted like cigarettes and airheads, an odd but utterly intoxicating combination. Pulling closer to him, you wrapped your hands around his neck, where they buried themselves into his dark, tangled halo of curls.

Smiling against his lips, you pulled away, gazing up at Richie. “Promise me you’ll tell me if something like that ever happens again?” he mumbled, and you nodded, though you had no intention of ever going back.

“Of course” came your soft response, and Richie smiled a genuine smile. A ray of light shining through a broken person. 

“Good” he said, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose. You let out a soft laugh, before wiping your damp cheek with your hand, ridding yourself of the remnants of your tears.

You two stayed close for a few more minutes, blissfully peaceful, happy even, as you stared through the bushes at the calm water below, which reflected the midday sunlight. 

A bird called from a nearby tree, its warbling lightly echoing the deserted area. Perhaps it was a dove, you thought, as you watched it fly away, loosening the leaves of the Birch tree where it had perched. You would have to ask Stan later. If the bird did one thing, it pulled you out of the small trance you had been in. 

“Come on Richie” You said softly, and grabbed his hand. He smiled at your sudden action. “We’re gonna be late to see the others. They’re gonna suspect somethings up if we take too long” You pulled him along softly, and youu two began to walk, fingers intertwined, shoulders brushing.

You may have been broken, but two broken halves make a whole.

#fluff #abuse #it2017 #richietozierxreader #richietozier #richie tozier #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #losers club #sophia lillis #wyatt oleff #chosen jacobs #jack dylan grazer #losers #imagine #oneshot #headcanon #jaeden lieberher #jeremy ray taylor #benverly #billverly #stenbrough #reddie #funny #cute #stanlon #stan uris #x reader

[sugarless-suki-writes]

Big God

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: M Word Count: 2,802 Chapters: 1 of ?

Read on FF||Ao3

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Summary: Kagome makes her way home after a late-night shift at the hospital and runs into an injured youkai in an alleyway. Sometimes I think it's gettin' better, and then it gets much worse. Is it just part of the process? Well, Jesus Christ, it hurts. {KouKag} Yakuza AU, Mutual Pining

Hey y'all. Here I am... with another new fic... influenced by Florence once more... Florence Welsh owns my soul Hope you enjoy! 

Chapter One

Kagome exited the hospital, several events from the day haunting her. She had deep, heavy bags under her eyes. She stood outside of the entrance of the hospital for a few moments, looking up at the sky. The moon was large and beautiful, almost full. The miko wished she could appreciate the beauty of the night sky right now… she was too sullen and dead inside. Her mind was ringing with the sounds of that mother’s sobs, the sight of the blood on her hands and the ringing of the heart monitor flatlining. She had done everything she could.. but… Tears welled in Kagome’s eyes and she did her best to blink them away. She needed to get home before she could let her emotions take over.

Letting out a sigh, Kagome ran a hand over her face and made her way down the sidewalk. Her apartment wasn’t too far away, she just had to go down a couple streets, though she could take two alleyways to make it quicker. She might take that option, now that she thought about it. She wanted to get home quickly so she could grieve in peace, thank the gods she didn’t have another shift tomorrow. The sky began to darken then, causing her to look up. Clouds were beginning to roll in, and with a quick check of the weather app on her phone, it was due to rain soon. “Aw, shit.” she grumbled. She had forgotten it was scheduled to rain tonight… she hadn’t brought an umbrella with her. Well.. she supposed it was good she was already planning on taking the shorter route home.

The miko soon came across the alleyway she was looking for and quickly entered. This one was relatively short and led into a narrow side street. She kept a fast pace, not wanting to get caught in the rain that was to come, and eager to have some alone time where she could wallow. She walked along the side street for a while before turning into the last alleyway before she’d reach the street she lived on. This alley was quite a bit longer, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been somewhat scared going down it the first couple times at night. But nothing had ever happened, and it wasn’t a shady area or anything as far as she knew, so she quickly got used to it and wasn’t scared anymore.

As she turned the corner and started to enter the alleyway, she saw a figure sitting down and resting against a wall. She paused, a hint of fear trying to claw its way into her heart. She swallowed it down, steeling herself. It was probably just a drunk. She kept this in mind as she started her trek down the alley. She kept her eyes on the figure, not wanting to take her eyes off them. She didn’t have much energy to work with, meaning she was limited on how much of her reiki she could wield in case this person was a threat. However, she reflexively flexed her right hand, just in case…

But as she drew closer, she realized that something was wrong. The light illuminating onto the figure revealed that this man was injured. He was curling in on himself and she could see the blood. Her heart started pounding as she broke out into a sprint, quickly approaching the man. At her hastened approach, the man turned his head to look at her, glaring. She heard a snarl come from him and only faltered for a moment before continuing her approach.

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright. I’m a doctor.” she said, holding her hands out in front of her, showing that she was no threat to him. As she came up next to him, she dropped to her knees beside him, not feeling the pain from said action as she was now in Go Mode™. It was then that she felt the aura of youki surrounding him, which made sense as to why he had snarled. She kept this information in mind as she coaxed the youkai to let her examine his injuries.

He looked her over skeptically, his icy blue eyes looking her up and down. As he tried to gauge whether or not to trust her, she took the time to look over what she could. The youkai had long black hair that was tied up into a ponytail, a disheveled one at that. He had some bruises on his face, one of his cheeks swollen. He was likely in a fist fight of some sort. Her eyes shifted down his body, noting that there were blood splatters near the collar of his shirt. As her eyes trailed further down, they widened at the sight of such a large blood stain near his abdomen. She couldn’t see the injury itself, as he had his hand covering it. Was it a stab wound? A gunshot wound? Either way.. she didn’t have any of her tools and this was an unsanitary environment. Her hand itched for her phone.

She pulled it out, unlocking it and getting ready to dial as she spoke. “Look, I think I’m going to have to call an ambulance or something. I know you’re a youkai and all but that’s a lot of blood and-” She had only managed to type in the first 1, having had trouble with thumbprint recognition when it was snatched out of her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed together in a mix of confusion and anger. “Hey! What the-”

“You’re not callin’ anybody.” he snarled.

“Well I can’t just leave you here to bleed out and die!” she snapped.

He laughed at that, but winced soon after, pressing tighter onto his wound. “I’m a youkai, lady. I’ll be fine.”

Kagome set her jaw, anger lighting a fire in her. “I don’t care if you’re a youkai or not. My job is to help people, and I don’t care what you say, but this is bad!”

“Well I ain’t goin’ to a damn hospital.” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes at that. “Fine, whatever. Just.. come on. I’ve got things laying around my apartment, I guess. Just.. let’s hurry.” she grumbled.

With that, Kagome got up and started to pull the youkai up as well. Seeing that he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind, the youkai grumbled, handed her phone back, and helped her out the best he could. She told him to keep the pressure on his wound and he grumbled a bit under his breath, doing as she said. They then carried on their way out of the alley, keeping a slow pace so as not to jostle the youkai’s wound too much. It took them a while to reach Kagome’s apartment, the rain starting to come down in a drizzle as they approached the building. The trip up the stairs was…. a thing, and it took forever.

They eventually arrived at her door and she pulled out her keys and unlocked it. The two then shuffled inside and took their shoes off at the entrance. She helped him lean against the wall momentarily as she turned to close and lock the door. The youkai hissed in pain, wanting to remove his hand from the wound, but knowing it would be a bad idea to piss off the doctor taking care of him. With the door now locked, Kagome turned back to the youkai and led him into the living area. She sat him down on the floor, leaning him back against the wall before taking off.

Kagome rushed around the small apartment, gathering up all the items she could find that she knew she’d need. She then ran back into the living area, throwing everything down onto the table. She spread out several towels onto the floor and then started to organize her things on the table nearby. Once everything was all set up, she approached the youkai once again and helped him over to the small setup she had.

“I’m going to have to take off your shirt and jacket, okay? Does the shirt have any sentimental value to you or can I...?” Kagome mimicked a cutting motion with scissors using her hand.

The youkai rolled his eyes. “Snip away, I guess.” he grumbled.

Kagome nodded and helped him slip off the leather jacket he had on, tossing it to the side. She would likely need to clean it; she wasn’t sure if there was blood on it or not... With the jacket off, Kagome reached for the scissors on the table and snipped off his white T-shirt. She was shocked at what lay beneath. Tattoos. Intricately detailed tattoos depicting wolves, the moon, and lilies decorated the youkai’s arms and part of his chest. Oh god dammit. I swear to GOD if this is what I think it is.... Kagome did her best to erase this train of thought, quickly focusing her attention to the wound on the right side of the youkai’s lower abdomen. She gave a quick warning to the youkai before moving his hand away to look at it.

As soon as the hand was removed, blood began to ooze out and she frowned. It looked to be like a deep stab wound, just as she had thought. She moved his hand back and got up to walk into the kitchen, washing her hands. “So, what happened? I need to know so I can give you the proper treatment.” she said, scrubbing up to her elbows. She didn’t have a brush to scrub properly, nor time to do the full 10 minutes, but she figured this would do. If he got an infection, she’d take him to the hospital, whether he liked it or not.

The youkai watched her thoughtfully. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust her, but she hadn’t done anything to hurt him. She was a miko too, a powerful one at that, so it would be easy for her to just purify him and get it over with. He let out a sigh and directed his gaze at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I got into a fight with some people and one of them pulled out a knife.” he said.

Kagome sighed and dried off her hands and arms with a couple of paper towels. Well, she would have to work with that, she supposed. “Did you see what kind of knife it was?” she asked, approaching the youkai once more, putting on some disposable gloves as she did so.

“No.”

Of course not. She frowned and reached for one of the cloths she had laid out on the table. She grabbed a bottle of saline solution and poured some of it onto the cloth. The youkai was watching her every move, and honestly she couldn’t blame him. “This is probably going to hurt, but I need to clean the wound.” she said. He nodded and that’s when she had him remove his hand. She took the bottle of the saline solution and poured some of it into the wound. The youkai below her hissed in pain, but she ignored it. She then reached with her cloth and began to clean the outside of the wound.

As she cleaned it, she frowned at seeing how deep it went. It was definitely a longer blade on the knife. Once it was as clean as it was gonna get, she put the cloth on top of the wound and pressed down on it, using one hand to rummage through her things on the table. “So.. what’s your name?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her question. “Kouga..”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kouga. I’m Kagome and I’ll-” she caught herself before she autopiloted into her usual speech when greeting a patient for the first time. She let out a sigh, giving her head a slight shake. “Sorry, I autopiloted there for a moment.” That caused a chuckle to escape from Kouga. She smiled a bit and finally found the needle and thread she had been looking for. She got Kouga to apply pressure to his wound as she threaded the needle. “I apologize for not having anything to dull the pain for you… will you be able to handle it?” she asked.

He laughed at that, but winced shortly after. “Please, I think if I can handle getting stabbed then I can handle some stitches.” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

Kagome chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Alright Mr. Tough Guy. You’d be surprised, though.” she teased. Once she was ready, she removed his hand and the cloth and began to stitch him up. True to his word, he seemed to be handling it pretty well, almost as if he didn’t really mind it. It surprised her a little.

“You don’t have to answer.. but I’m curious.” She paused, focusing on her stitching for a moment before asking her question. “Are you part of the yakuza?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

He was silent for several moments. “Yes.” Kagome nodded, a slight frown on her face. He eyed her curiously. “Would you have still helped me if you had known from the beginning?” he asked.

“Yes.” she replied without a single moment of hesitation. Kouga was surprised at her quick answer, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “It’s my job to help people. I don’t really care who you are, no one deserves to suffer.” She paused for a moment there. “Well… I mean.. there are some people that deserve to suffer I suppose, but you’re not one of them.” she said, giving him a small smile. He looked up at her, still in shock. She had gone back to focusing on her stitch work, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He felt something stirring in him, but he didn’t really know what it was.

Before too long, she had finished stitching up his wound and had taped down multiple pieces of gauze, the first layer being soaked in more of the saline solution. One she was done, she got up to take her gloves off and wash her hands, getting rid of the blood. “You’re welcome to stay. In fact, I insist that you do so I can keep an eye on your wound. If it gets bad though, you better believe I’m taking you to the hospital.” she called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” he replied. Kouga was still laying down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if he should move or not, waiting for her instructions on the matter. Once Kagome was done washing her hands, she entered the living area once more and helped Kouga off the floor and moved him to the couch.

“It’s not much, but I can get you some blankets and pillows if you’d like.” she offered. He nodded, and Kagome was gone again. He took this time to glance around her apartment. It was relatively small, though he supposed that was due to it being a one bedroom. One thing that confused him was how barren it was. Sure, there was furniture, but there was practically no personality anywhere. There were no plants, no pictures.. nothing. It was… sterile. Maybe her bedroom was more decorated.. or at least he hoped. How could anyone live in a space with no character?

The miko returned before too long, carrying several pillows and a dark blue blanket. She then proceeded to help prop him up with the pillows and once she was done with that, she placed the blanket over him. “Now, I’ll probably be checking on you every few hours or so, mostly to see how the stitches are holding and if your wound needs redressing. I’ll try my best not to wake you up, but I can’t make any promises.” she said with a small chuckle.

“Sounds good, doc.” Kouga replied, smirking up at her. Kagome rolled her eyes, wished him a good night, then left the room. As soon as Kagome was in her room, she let out a sigh and leaned back against the door. Her exhaustion, along with the guilt and depression, hit her full force now that she was in the privacy of her room. She could feel tears welling in her eyes as her mind brought her back to earlier in the day. It felt like her heart was being squeezed and she brought a hand up to her chest to try and soothe the pain. Before she was too far gone, however, she pulled out her phone and set a timer to go off in 2 hours. She had a new patient to take care of, and she needed to stay on top of things.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fic #chapter fic #koukag #kougome #kougkag #kogkag

[emilococo]

What is the Real Deal with Mr Parsons?

[TOP SECRET]

THIS INFORMATION IS STRICTLY CLASSIFIED, IT MUST BE KEPT UNDER LOCK AND KEY AND NEVER REMOVED FROM OFFICE. THIS MUST BE FOR INTELLIGENCE MESSAGES ONLY.

You know that I talked about the underrated cartoon The Cramp Twins before, quite frequently in fact. It seems like it's my duty to go into detail with this show if no one else will. But even then; they're still some aspects I've yet to touch upon; whether it be the characters, the setting or the production history. One of those things I'll be discussing relates to one of its supporting characters, Seth Parsons.

For those unfamiliar, Mr Seth Parsons is one of the remaining swamp folk of the fictional town of Soap City. He lives on the only patch of swampland in the city, with his wife Lilly and family of six kids. He works by farming the land but he's also skilled at wood carving, handling creatures, magic tricks, acrobatics, comedy, he even has his own plumbing business to support such a big family. But what he's best known for is sharing his infinite wisdom of the swamp with his son Tony and Lucien Cramp. He's an overall handyman who cares about the swamp and his family, and the best father anyone could ask for. But what if there is more to this man than he lets on? What is he's hiding from Soap Folks? Could someone who's a great family man be so suspicious? Join in as we unravel the clues to what is the real deal with Mr Parsons?

The swamp people have this saying; which translates to 'the deeper you go, the more you know'. To better understand the deal with Mr Parsons, we're going to have to look at the episode 'The Bad Seed'. For those who aren't familiar, this episode talks about a masked outlaw who once terrorised Soap City. I've discussed this episode before in my list of the best Cramp Twins episodes, but I didn't go into detail about it so not to spoil the crucial plot points. But now I want to use this chance to put those plot points into perspective. Though I do encourage you to watch the episode before you could read this article. Anyway, the Bad Seed was a juvenile delinquent who wore a mask to hide his identity along with his accomplice Little Hat. They were a dynamic duo who caused trouble by disturbing the peace, that is until they were caught and unmasked. 

By the end of the episode, it was revealed that the bad seed turned out to be non-other than Lucien's ancestor who looked exactly like him. And Little Hat was Seth when he was young. 

First of all, we see that Mr Parsons had a checkered past as one of Soap City's former criminals. It shows that even back then he had a connection with the Cramp family. We learn that Seth once had a rebellious side to his personality, back when he was young and did not know any better. Though if Seth and the Bad Seed were anything like Tony and Lucien, could it be possible Seth committed these felonies to stand up for the rights of the swamp people and revolt against the totalitarianism of the Soap people? Even though some of the crimes he committed have become tamed, could it be that the bad seed was a misunderstood anti-hero? Like a western version of Robin Hood, who knows? Seth even stole a page from the City's records which shows him being unmasked. Though he admits he took it because he likes how he looked in the picture, rather than keeping people from knowing about his past. 

Which begs the question, how has Mr Parsons been alive for so long? You cannot say that it wasn't that long ago, because there's evidence that proves otherwise. As its shown, the Bad Seed was alive sometime during the old west. It's also indicated that he did this when Soap City outlawed wearing odd socks under penalty of hanging. So how could he have possibly survived all these years and not look so incredibly old? We have ourselves a conspiracy theory here people.

The swamp has had a fascinating echo-system, but who would guess that one of its inhabitants would be the most intriguing? I'm willing to believe that Seth's vast knowledge and wisdom comes from living for hundreds of years. Despite this, he appears to still be agile and was able to have children. Now The Cramp Twins was always grounded in reality, and yet Seth was one abnormality to be walking among the neighbourhood. Could it be possible that Mr Parsons was cryogenically frozen for many years, or maybe he has a special swamp herb that keeps him alive, or here's a crazy thought he might have used supernatural forces to gain immortality? Alas, we never got an answer, and fans of the show are still wondering to this day. I can't say for certain that my speculations are true, as I've yet to contact any of the crew members regarding this. But surely the people behind this show could have given us revelations for Pete sake. [UNSOLVED]

One thing is for sure, that Seth Parsons is the character who drew us into the history behind Soap City, the swamp and the people who inhabit it. The fact that he has a dark past and the mystery around him make him a complex character. If only we had clarification on these backstories, as well as Seth's. Leave me a comment on what you think is the reason Seth has been able to live for so long. With these entertainment companies exploiting people's nostalgia, I think The Cramp Twins needs to have a proper conclusion. If you're a fan of the show or you just want it to tie up the loose ends, please contact Cartoon Network Europe or m4e in demand for it to be revived. Go to social media sites and type the hashtag #bringbackthecramptwins. Or you could sign this petition here:

https://www.ipetitions.com/petition/bring-back-the-cramp-twins

With your help and support, then this speculation will be put to rest.

"And we can have forever" "And we can love forever,""Forever is our today".

"Who waits forever anyway?"

#the cramp twins #cramp twins #mr parsons #Seth #swamp people #folk #cartoon theory #conspiracy #speculation #past #deep #backstory #mystery #father #bringbackthecramptwins

[violetflowersandflames]

Blood Moon

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Mina Ashido/Jirou Kyouka

Rating: T 

Summary: Jirou's used to a life of solitude and quiet, but that all changes when an excitable pink furred werewolf enters into her life who she can't seem to get rid of. And isn't sure she wants to be rid of anymore.

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11217576

"Are you sure this is alright?"

"Kyouka, relax." Jirou blushed as Mina reached through the bars and grabbed Jirou's hand, interlocking their fingers. "You ask that every time. I'll be fine. We've done this countless times." She assured, a warm smile on her face.

Mina squeezed Jirou's hand, and then she pulled hers away back into the cage letting arm hang limply at her side. Jirou locked the door and put the key into her pocket, patting the place where it was to make sure it was there.

Mina padded over to the mattress laid out at the back of the small room and sat down. The sheet had been ripped, claw marks showing where Mina scratched at it in nights past. Jirou retrieved her guitar she'd leaned up against the wall and then sat down across from Mina, the bars separating them.

Mina cocked her head.

"Kyouka, you really don't have to stay."

"Well too bad you can't make me leave, Ashido." Jirou plucked at the guitar, and Mina's eyes swam with gratitude and worry. She leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes, letting Jirou's song wash over her.

Jirou remembered the first time she'd met Mina. Then, she hadn't known of the girl's true nature.

She had been perched on the fence surrounding the graveyard. The sun had just set and the only light came from the stars, the moon nowhere in sight.

She tugged at her choker. She hadn't feasted for the past few days, and her throat was starting to feel sore. Leaping off the fence, she started to head down the sidewalk. It wasn't uncommon to find a human straying alone right after sunset, and she'd just drain some blood leaving them with a mark and a fuzzy memory of the night's events.

Jirou spotted a girl with fluffy pink hair emerging from the forest close to the town. Jirou quickened her pace, staying to the shadows to avoid being spotted. The girl was cradling her arm as if it'd been injured and seemed unaware of her presence, her mind occupied elsewhere.

Jirou raced forward once she was close enough, reaching for the girl's throat. She let out a cry as the girl whipped around and jabbed her in the stomach with her good arm.

Baring her fangs, Jirou recovered from the attack and charged again. How are her reflexes this good? The girl jumped back to avoid her and held up her hands, wincing as she did so.

"Whoa. Calm down!"

Jirou hesitated. This wasn't supposed to be difficult. Humans were slow, oblivious creatures. Was she a hunter? Or another vampire, perhaps?

"What are you?" Jirou snapped. The strange girl with the sharp reflexes grinned.

"I'm Mina Ashido!" Jirou shook her head.

"No, I meant what are you." At this, the girl frowned. Jirou crossed her arms fixing her in a glare. Mina shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing her arm.

"I'm a werewolf. Are you one, too?"

"I'm a vampire." Jirou scoffed, and Mina's face fell. Jirou spun on her heel and headed back towards the graveyard. She'd rather wait for tomorrow than drink a mutt's blood.

Mina padded after her, and Jirou's ears twitched at the sound of her footsteps on the ground. At last, she stopped and turned, crossing her arms.

"Why are you following me?" Mina seemed unaffected by her harsh tone.

"I know you're not a werewolf, but vampires are pretty similar, right?"

"What? No." Jirou's scowl deepened. She quickened her pace, shoving her hands into the pockets of her black jacket, her face heating up. If the girl followed, she didn't bother to check.

The next night when she woke up, she found the werewolf girl sitting outside the gate to the cemetery. Mina perked up when she caught sight of her and followed after Jirou, a bounce in her step.

"Where are you going?"

"To find food."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Don't you have a pack to be part of?"

The girl didn't respond, and Jirou felt a surge of relief. She wasn't in the mood to deal with anymore unwanted questions. She kept moving but stopped when she realized Mina was no longer walking after her.

Jirou spun around to see Mina rubbing her arm, a forlorn look on her face, gazing up towards the sky. A small sliver of a moon had appeared.

Jirou bit her lip and, with a sigh, walked back towards Mina. The girl seemed to brighten as she saw Jirou come towards her.

Crossing her arms, Jirou fixed Mina in a sharp look.

"Listen. Where's your pack? I thought all werewolves traveled together; vampires are the solitary ones." Not entirely true. Some formed covens, she herself used to be part of him. The majority of her kind, however, kept to themselves and even those who lived together weren't all cuddly and friendly with one another.

But with werewolves, the only ones who traveled alone were rogues or victims of some tragedy.

"I...It's complicated." Mina scratched the back of her neck. Jirou frowned. She didn't want to press the girl, but she also couldn't do much to help her and hopefully get rid of her without more information.

"I'm going to find food. If you want to tag along I won't stop you, but don't get in my way or make noise." Jirou warned. Mina brightened.

Jirou found herself hanging around the werewolf more often. Each night, she'd be outside the gate and run to greet Jirou. She'd follow Jirou, vanish whenever Jirou was feasting no doubt to hunt down her own prey, and then reappear a little while later. Jirou sometimes thought the werewolf might just leave forever, but she never failed to come back.

Jirou noticed that as the full moon drew closer, the girl looked more wolf and less human. Wolf ears peeked out of her fluffy hair, and she'd grown a bushy tail as well. Pink fur had started to grow on her body, and her teeth were sharpening into fangs.

Her arm had started to heal as well. Jirou never asked her about the injury, not wanting to pry and also not wanting to open up a topic of conversation that she didn't know if she wanted to hear.

Aside from their differences, Jirou somewhat enjoyed the werewolf's presence. She was so used to being left alone ever since she'd moved here from her old home. While she didn't regret her decision, she sometimes missed the coven back at the castle. She'd grown used to the silence here in this old cemetery, and the change brought about by Mina was sort of nice.

The night of the full moon, Jirou pushed off the lid of her coffin and headed to the gate. She frowned as Mina was nowhere to be found.

What was it about werewolves again? That being in a pack helps keep them from going on a rampage during the full moon? Perhaps Mina had gone to find her pack, then.

Jirou felt an almost stinging feeling in her chest. Why hadn't Mina told her before she left? Why had she been hanging around Jirou in the first place instead of with her pack mates?

Brushing these thoughts from her mind and convincing herself it didn't matter anyway - she didn't even like the werewolf that much - Jirou went off in search of any food wandering around. As she passed the forest, she heard a low growl.

Jirou whipped her head towards the trees where the sound came from.

"Hello?" She asked, placing her hand on her hip and cocking her head. There was the sound of cracking branches. Jirou tensed.

Something leapt at her, and she jumped out of the way to avoid being slashed by the creature's sharp claws. A huge pink wolf spun, fixing her in its frenzied glare, its eyes colored black.

The wolf snapped its jaws. Jirou curled her hands into fists.

"Mina." The wolf slammed its mouth shut and cocked its head hearing the name. Jirou's eyes widened. "Mina?" She asked again, and the wolf whined.

Jirou glanced up at the full moon. Its rays shone down on them, lighting up the sidewalk and the edge of the forest. She looked back at Mina who had started to snarl again, drool dripping from her large fangs.

Mina started forward with a growl, and Jirou held out her hand.

She knew she was taking a risk. She hadn't met Mina that long ago. She'd been cold, indifferent to the werewolf at first. And chances were, the old myth wasn't true anyway. She'd probably be able to evade the werewolf's rampage even if she couldn't take her down in a fight, but the village would be devastated and as little as she cared for humans, they served their purpose as steady meals.

"Mina, it's me. Calm down."

Mina paused, staring at Jirou. Then she lowered her head. Jirou reached out her hand, hesitant, then patted the top of the werewolf's head.

Mina collapsed into her arms, reverting back. Jirou blushed. Her clothes had ripped from the transformation, and she clung to Jirou, tears pouring down her face. Jirou managed to take off her jacket and wrapped it around Mina. She rubbed Mina's back, and the girl's tail wagged.

"Jirou, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. Usually the transformation is kept under control when I'm with the rest of them, but I've never dealt with it without the pack there."

"It's fine." Jirou patted her back. Mina's words rushed and stumbled over each other, making it hard for Jirou to understand what she was trying to say. Jirou just let Mina lean on her.

As the moon started to fall in the sky, Jirou helped lead Mina back towards the graveyard. Mina wiped tears away from her eyes.

"Thanks, Jirou."

"Mina, what happened to your pack?" Mina looked down. She toed at the ground, and Jirou waited. Finally, she drew a deep breath and spoke.

"We were attacked by hunters. I got separated from them while running, and I hurt my arm. I wanted to go back and find them, but I have no idea where they might be." Her ears drooped.

"I'm sorry." Jirou didn't know what else to say. She knew what humans were capable of, and she didn't wish that fate on any creature. Mina shook her head.

"I'll be ok. I'm worried for them, but I trust they're safe. And besides, I have you." She laughed, then frowned. "I mean, if that's ok. If I stay with you at least until I find them again."

Jirou took Mina's hand and squeezed it.

"Aren't you already staying with me?" Mina blushed, her tail wagging, and Jirou felt her cheeks heat up.

Mina had been the one to suggest locking her up on the nights of the full moon. The shack in the graveyard had been rarely used and fallen into disrepair. Jirou knew that the shack contained a cage with bars and a lock, the key hanging on the wall, old and rusted but still usable.

She'd always questioned why such a cage existed, but when Mina asked if there was anywhere nearby she could be locked up during the full moon, Jirou suspected the original owner of it had dealt with a similar problem she know faced.

Still, she was reluctant to do it until Mina convinced her it'd be better for both of them. Jirou refused to leave her side, sitting outside the cage and staying until the next morning when Mina would revert back and pass out from exhaustion.

Jirou found herself growing closer to the werewolf. She started sharing stories of her old coven with Mina, and she loved hearing Mina's excitement while talking about her pack mates. As much as she hoped for Mina to be reunited with them, she couldn't stop the twisted feeling within her that reared its ugly head whenever she thought about the girl leaving her behind.

Still, she'd appreciate the time together now.

The transformation had began, and she watched as Mina whimpered and whined, her body becoming that of a wolf's and not a human or partly human one any longer. Mina scratched at the mattress, leaving more claw marks in the soft material.

She lunged at the cage, trying to rip apart the bars. They held. They always did. Jirou strummed the guitar, ignoring her rampage. She'd found the instrument discarded in the forest one day while on a walk with Mina.

One of her old vampire friends and coven mates, Momo, who lived in the grand castle had taught her piano long ago. She also loved hearing the music from the town when she could get close enough to hear the human musicians perform.

Mina had encouraged her to take the instrument and try to teach herself how to play. She'd become better with time and practice, figuring out the mechanics, and she noticed Mina always calmed down even if she remained in her wolf state.

The wolf was sitting down now, her head cocked, tail beating against the floor. Jirou smiled at her, and she almost seemed to smile back.

It was still hard for her to get used to doing this to Mina, to watching the werewolf lose control. But the music helped soothe them both, and Jirou knew even if she couldn't replace her pack, she'd do her best to support Mina.

Mina whimpered and stuck her paw through the door. Jirou paused. Then, she reached forward and took Mina's paw, stroking it.

"I'm here for you. I won't ever leave you, I promise."

Even if you yourself need to leave someday. I won't abandon you before then.

#Violet's Writing #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #Fanfiction #AshiJirou #MinaJirou #Werewolves #Vampires

[taehyung-the-baehyung]

COMPANY || three.

◦ pairing: reader x hyungsik

◦ rating: m

◦ word count: 4.4k

◦ mood music: aquaman // jay park

table of contents | one | two | three | four | five | six | 

m a s t e r l i s t

The first thing I got when I was hired was a metal ring with two keys on it: one to his house and one to his office. Like the keys themselves, the two places were hard to distinguish. Hyungsik was always working, no matter where he was. His house was just a building. I didn’t know if he knew what a home was, what a family was, but he certainly didn’t seem to have either. There were countless nights when he just caught some shut eye on the couch in his office. It was hardly enough for a normal man to function on, but then I suppose he wasn’t your ordinary man.

I fiddled with the key, wriggling it in the lock with my phone pressed to my ear against my shoulder. “I am so happy for you! You’re going to have an absolute blast in the city.” I dropped my voice to a whisper as pushed the door open. I tiptoed in, like an intruder who didn’t belong. It felt wrong coming here without announcement, despite the countless number of times I had done it before. The house was neat, spotless actually. It always was. How could a place that hardly anyone ever stepped in have gotten messy?

“I know! And maybe I can even visit you from time to time!” His voice over the light crackle of the line was filled with excitement and relief. “I miss talking to you.” My brother had finally opened the envelope that sat on his desk for weeks and was ecstatic to learn that he was in fact accepted by his dream college. I hadn’t felt this happy in weeks. My entire spirit was light and everything just felt good. I released my phone from my shoulder, holding it again in my hand. I squeezed as though he might be able to feel the embrace I wanted to tackle him in.

I walked through the large, open living area and into the secluded office room in the back of the house. “I know, I miss you too, bud.”

It felt strange every time I walked through Hyungsik’s house. The more I did it, the more it felt normal, the more I wanted a house just like it. But that was a fantasy. No matter how hard I worked, it was unlikely I’d ever truly fit into a world like this. I didn’t want to anyway, but it was hard to complain about the luxuries.

Like his office in the city, this one also had a long wooden desk. It faced towards the window. Yellow oncidiums leant against the rim of the glass that made their home; their time was coming to an end. The thin ring of water from the cup that perpetually stained the wood kissed the cracks that swirled from one end of the table to the other. I shook my head with a silent amused scoff. He was so stubborn. Plenty of wealth, and still Hyungsik put his flowers in drinking glasses. With my hand, I swiped the water from the table, my skin gathering the water into my palm in frenzied droplets. I shook my fingers out away from myself, spraying water off my palm in a haphazard haste. I returned the glass to its place in the corner of the table, then gathered the hefty stack of files from my bag with my other hand and placed them neatly in the center of his desk. I scribbled a note that he should pick up more oncidiums. His were dying.

As I straightened up, I looked around, making sure there was nothing to tidy or pick up. “So how’s work?” My brother asked.

“Eh, the usual, you know: slaving away for the devil boss.” I laughed to myself. The window before Hyungsik’s desk caught just enough of the balcony that stretched out from the living room for me to see the hot tub. Normally on a night like this, the waters would be still, whisking up the light humidity of the air. Instead, I caught the glimpse of a pale arm resting against the tiled wall that lined the perimeter.

“Hello?” My brother spoke again. I blinked, suddenly realizing that I had not heard him.

“Hey,” I said idly into the phone. “Listen, I gotta go, bud.” My attention was entirely elsewhere as I kept my eyes on Hyungsik through the window, pacing through the living room. He faced the extraordinary view from his balcony. I shook my head. Only the rich and spoiled got to enjoy a view like that, and surely they took it for granted– as they did with everything. Hyungsik’s head was down, hands clenched into fists in his hair.

I heard a soft ‘oh’ drop from the other end. “Work?” My brother asked, annoyance gripping his words.

“Something like that,” I mumbled quickly before hanging up and tossing my phone to the nearby couch. My brother was going to his dream college, I would get to see him more often, I was making enough money to help out with the bills, and everything was just going perfectly. Rich and spoiled, or not, who cared? What did I have to lose? As much as I complained about my ‘devil boss’, my mood was too good to turn down the opportunity that just presented itself.

I quickly curled my arm around my back to find the zipper to my dress. I leaned forward, struggling to get the best hold of the thing as my fingers searched for the cool metal. Finally tugging it down my back, I undid my bra with haste and pulled my underwear to the ground. Stepping out of my shoes, I left the puddle of clothes in the living room before quietly opening the door to the balcony. Thankfully, it was silent and Hyungsik didn’t hear. He was still tugging at his hair.

The sight of his muscles carved so delightfully into his back was hard to resist. I could see the charming dimples at the small of his back from his, sunk just below the level of water. The hot tub was bubbling only in the slightest, the white sheets of small bubbles grouping together, scattered in the water. Hyungsik’s hair was wet, slicked back, and I knew the moment he turned around and I saw his toned, wet body, I would be the one to lose it. I was so weak for him, for his body, it was almost pathetic, but whenever he fucked me the way he did, I couldn’t care less.

I carefully stepped into the water, slinking down the rough hot tub steps. The sound of wading water as I walked through caught Hyungsik’s attention. He straightened up and turned around as he watched me walk towards him. “It’s not like you to be in the hot tub on a night like this.” I smirked, pulling the scrunchie from my ponytail and setting my strands free.

“I was just…” Hyungsik trailed off, streaking his tongue across his lip as I drew closer. “Thinking.” He finished with a clenched jaw, sitting down on the hot tub seat.

“Stressed?”

“Well, we do have that important board meeting tomorrow.” He sighed. His eyes were not at all fixed on my face. It wasn’t like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, but Hyungsik made me feel good just by his glances. I bit my lip, seeing just how much I was turning him on. He loved surprises. I stood a couple feet in front of him now.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It was an important meeting, but we had been preparing for it for weeks in advance. Well, I had been preparing, which meant Hyungsik was prepared. The brat couldn’t do anything on his own if he tried. His successes were mine. I waded closer, placing my hands on his shoulders as I straddled him in the tub, just barely grazing his hardening member. I leant in. “You always do so well, Sir,” I cooed over the curves of his slender ears, pleased with the shaky exhale that left his lips. As dirty as I felt every time I got the notification of a direct deposit after we fucked, it never felt so bad when I was here with him, getting him so turned on, just for me.

Hyungsik remained still, not yet touching me, his arms outstretched across the tiles that were different shades of blue. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his neck, and pulled back to look at him. I sunk my hips lower in his lap, fully pushed up against him as I leaned in to take his bottom lip between my teeth. I rolled myself against him, forcing a moan out of him as his hands found their place against my sides. I was so used to the soreness of his hands against my forever-tender hips, it felt good to have them there again. Today had been a wonderful day, and this was all just making it better. His thumbs grazed the skin underneath as he dipped his tongue in my welcoming mouth, fighting for dominance. The water made it easier to hold my weight over him as I slid my hips against his erection.

I let my hands slide over his wet chest and trace down his toned body, basking in the feeling of his muscles contracting under my touch. I wrapped my hand around his member, squeezing gently through his swim trunks as I continued rolling my hips against him. A surprised groan dropped from his mouth. “Are you teasing me, Princess?” he challenged before harshly attacking my neck. My skin was already covered in the purple patches of his markings. Before they ever had time to fade, I would be somehow pressed up against him again, screaming his name and revelling in the pain and pleasure of his lips sucking against my fragile skin. I was the canvas he could never let go of, forever perfecting. I wondered if he did this with anyone else.

“Maybe,” I hummed. Hyungsik grew restless beneath me, his length pressed against me now. His hair looked amazing, glistening in this soft light of the hot tub as strands clung to his forehead. Maybe it was the ecstatic mood that I was in, but something in me dared to pull his head back by the hair roughly. I sighed at the loss of contact on my neck, letting my gaze wash over his handsome profile. I smirked, staring straight into his eyes. I dragged my tongue along his neck, the faint taste of chlorine water scattering in my mouth. The moan that left Hyungsik vibrated in his throat. It seemed to fade into a shaky profanity as his fingers twitched against my sides, and everything felt so damn good. He didn’t resist at all.

He wrapped his arms around my back, his fingers tracing the ridges of my spine, brushing up and down gently. I left open mouthed kisses along his neck and ear. “Sir, you’re so hot,” I jerked my hips against his, pulling yet another groan out of him. My fingers were lost in his hair, softly combing through the damp strands as I connected my lips with his. I lifted my hips, in favor of using my hands, and pressed myself up against Hyungsik. He sighed into the kiss, sculpting his fingers around my breasts delicately. His thumb grazed over my nipples, sending a quiet shock through me as I worked my hand along his length through his shorts. “These should really come off, Sir,” I purred, pulling the waistband of his shorts before letting them slap into his skin.

Hyungsik stood up suddenly with a frustrated huff, sending my stomach lurching in a quick panic. An alarmed gasp slipped out as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, clinging to him. As the warm water slicked off our bodies, a cold shudder charged through my body. Hyungsik placed me roughly on the hard tile at the edge of the tub. I nearly lost my breath as my back made harsh contact with the ground. He placed his palm on my stomach, silently telling me to lie back. He knelt on the seat in the tub, sitting now between my legs, keeping them spread open with a hand on either knee. “That’s enough fun for you, Princess,” he hissed. “It’s my turn.”

The heat of his breath whisked over my core as he settled near my thighs. I shifted my hips anxiously. As his lips moved closer to my core, my toes curled up in the water with anticipation. I just wanted him inside me. If there was anything to compliment this man on, it was that he was exceptionally talented with his tongue.

I propped myself up on my elbows, watching Hyungsik carefully as he ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. He brought his open palm to cup my heat, both of us moaning at the feeling. I felt so sensitive already, electrifying jolts racing through every point of contact I had with him. He made everything feel good. A shiver ran through me again as I pulled Hyungsik by the arm. “Park Hyungsik, I don’t fucking care what you do to me, just do something.” Bad move.

“You’ve been awfully naughty lately, Princess,” he shot me a dark smirk. “Disobeying, teasing, calling me by my name,” he listed off his grievances, fear growing eagerly in my abdomen. His face fell quickly, now flashing a terrifyingly arousing glare. “Don’t move,” he growled against my skin. Horror struck through my blood at the thought. “And even though you’ve been so bad, I’ll reward you, Princess. I’ll fuck you hard, just like you like. But only if you can stay still. Do you think you can do that for me?” His voice was laced with excitement. He knew I would never dare say no to him.

I gulped, nodding weakly at his words. I cursed myself for melting in his hand like butter every time.

His tongue swirled around my entrance, then sloppily engulfed my core. His lips wrapped around my sensitive nub, gently sucking as I lifted myself ever so slightly. His hands quickly found purchase at my hips, slamming them back down into the cold, hard ground. “Strike one,” he mumbled, shaking through my core. He was working rough now, and I could feel every inch of the grooves of his tongue brush up against me. He slipped inside my entrance for but a moment, before pulling out. Hyungsik watched with pure pleasure as I mewled some semblance of his name between clamped lips.

“Sir,” I whimpered, digging into his scalp with my fingers, tugging at strands of his damp hair. He took hold of my wrists and pinned them down against the edge of the tub, sending electrifying vibrations of pain and pleasure coursing through my entire body.

“Strike two.” He pushed his hot tongue flat against my entrance, striping upwards slowly. I struggled to keep my hips down. I needed more. “Fuck, Sir…” Hyungsik did not say anything, remaining silent as he focused on what he wanted most. “Please,” I whispered, another shiver shaking through me as my back pressed flat against the cold tiles.

“You know how much I like your pretty little sounds, Princess,” he chuckled darkly, flicking his tongue across my clit.

“Don’t stop, please,” I begged, my breaths hyperventilating to keep up with him. “Sir…” I whined, my knuckles turning white as I caught an iron grip on the edge of the hot tub. Still, I needed more. “Sir!” I yelled out, frustrated. It wasn’t enough.

A low growl escaped his throat as he slicked me up with his saliva. The sound of my juices being lapped up my him was enough to make me fall apart for him right then and there. It was almost painful to just lie back and fight every urge in my body that demanded I grind my hips into his face. I wanted him deeper, I wanted him to stay there between my legs forever, but I knew his cock would stretch me out just the way I was craving. He would take my entire body and mold it into himself, fitting his every need, and I couldn’t complain, not when he was fucking me so good like this.

I felt my thighs wrap his head tighter before his fingers slipped down and dug into my thigh. “Strike three.” Hyungsik detached his lips from my heat. “You’re out.”

I cried out in frustration. The feverish pulsing between my legs riled up a new desperation within me. A devilish smirk streaked across Hyungsik’s lips as he ran his tongue along the corners of his lips, humming with satisfaction. He pushed his shorts down under the water, stepping out of them and throwing them onto the balcony floor with a sloshing sound.

“Should we try again, Princess?” I nodded frantically, wanting so badly to feel the steaming white heat of an orgasm. He sneered at that. “Will you behave?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

And just like that, Hyungsik was once again buried between my thighs. His grip around my legs was tighter now as he lifted them to hook over his shoulder. I knew if I stayed like this for too long, my calves would begin to tingle with numbness, so I fought my body to stay still. I just wanted to cum.

My throat grew dry as Hyungsik dipped his face deeper into me, his wet muscle slipping into my entrance daringly. He hummed into my core with delight and my mouth fixed open with ungodly noises flying out from the back of my throat. Nothing but blissful screams came out, and Hyungsik loved it. His nose pressed against my clit repeatedly as his face pressed into my heat over and over. His hands slip down to my thighs, wrapping around them with a firm grip as he moaned into me.

My head lifted instinctively off the ground as Hyungsik slid two fingers inside of me. He curled them instantly, massaging at my clenching walls. A scream-like moan left from my chest, and I was sure my soul left with it too. The heavenly euphoria I had been floating through from teasing him earlier caught up to me now. Now, I was simply soaking in the hellish agony of my own medicine, his hot tongue pressing up against every inch of my skin, but not where I needed him most.

Having done this so many times before, Hyungsik knew to brush against the spot I wanted him before teasingly curling his fingers away from it. His fingers pulled out and pushed back in at a pace that I swore would unravel me any second. I threw my hands into my hair, hoping to at least rip out some of my hair to survive the overwhelming pleasure. He pulled his fingers out slowly and then pushed them straight back in, not a single hint of gentleness. His tongue still stroked over my sensitive clit. No one had ever drawn out such desperate reactions from me. Only Hyungsik knew my body this well. My orgasm approached me in waves as the heat in the base of my stomach coiled up tightly. “Sir, I’m gonna–” I hardly had time to warm him before my orgasm crashed through my body, my thighs shaking violently around his neck. He fucked me so well I could hardly control myself. My thighs tightened around his head, and I was sure that I was suffocating him.

His fingers didn’t still, even as I came down from my high. My hips had a mind of their own now, writhing and tossing with every plunge of his fingers. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I whined, repeating myself until my whines turned into something far beyond me. “Sir, just fuck me!” I screamed. I couldn’t stay still anymore.

“So desperate,” he hissed.

“I know you must be so hard right now.” The words tumbled from my mouth in slurs. “Your balls must be so tight,” I let my voice swim in the lust that drowned my body. “Just fuck me. Let me make you feel good.” It was shameless, but I was ready to say or do anything just to feel his cock in me. I felt lightweight, floating in and out of consciousness as his fingers continued to work my sensitive walls. I was beyond desperate at this point. It was pitiful actually, but all I wanted was him.

“You know, if you hadn’t waltzed in here all naked and fucking beautiful just when I needed it, I would be denying you for so much longer.” Hyungsik grumbled, sliding his fingers out before pulling me down into the tub. “But you did, and I can’t stop fucking you, Princess.” He shoved his tongue into my mouth, soaking in the flavor or chlorine and cum. “I don’t want to.” He panted.

Hyungsik placed his hands on my ass, dragging me closer into his body. I was right; his erection pressed against my stomach as he held onto me. “Then fuck me like you mean it,” I challenged. It was the easiest way to get him inside me.

It worked. A feral growl rolled from his chest as he slid his hands up to the small of my back. He lifted me, forcing my ankles around his torso. He took hold of his cock, finding my entrance. “As you wish, Princess.”

Hyungsik pushed up into me gently, his hands immediately flying to my sides as my walls gripped around his erection. “Ah fuck–” my breath came out stuttered, my mind being wiped clean. I could feel him throbbing inside me, his chest heaving as a groan left his mouth. He had been more vocal as of late.

“Fuck, you’re still so goddamn tight.” He began moving his hips, slowly at first, knowing all too well that I would lose it soon. Everything was so sensitive, my vision hummed with faded blackness.

“Sir,” I mewled as he increased his pace. Hyungsik’s breath stuttered in his throat as he watched me bounce against his body. His lips found my neck, searching carefully for a spot that had yet to be marked as his. He jerked up into me with a groan. His noises rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against my stomach, pressed up against him. I arched my back, wishing to somehow feel all of him at once. I grinded against his hips, his cock buried in me to the hilt. “Feels so good,” I breathed, head thrown back in the air, my eyes screwed shut.

“Yeah? Is that right, Princess? Do I make you feel good?” His fingers digging into the flesh of my ass.

“Yes, Sir, oh my God!”

It all felt so different in the water: the slick sounds of our juices moving around, his wet cock slamming into me, the water swishing around us– it was all so filthy I could hardly think straight. Only strings of sounds left my lips, tangoing against his breathy moans as we snapped our hips into each other. I rose my body up, pounding down onto him.

“Keep going, Princess…” Hyungsik’s breath shook as he pressed my chest into him, my breasts flattening against his wet body.

“Oh, Sir…” I managed. “I love when you fuck me.” Sobs threatened to escape me as I drowned my fingers in his hair again. His hips jerked up. “So good and so deep.” Hyungsik’s hips began to move unbearably fast. “You’re the only one,” I cried. “You’re the only one.”

“Shit–” he gasped, digging his fingers into my back as I moved my hips to meet his. I moaned in response. I loved hearing him react to everything. His voice got so deep and raspy when he reveled in my body, but he would drift into soft, beautiful moans and whines as he reached his high. It felt amazing to make him feel like this. Maybe it was what kept me coming back, what kept me from walking away.

I tangled myself deeper in his hair, tugging slightly to hear the delicate gasp that always tiptoed out from his lips. I curled forward in pleasure at that, his hips now hitting a certain angle that sent my vision shocking with an explosion of white. My thighs tensed up, my body freezing with the staggering feeling of another high. Hyungsik took things into his own hands as he seized my hips, shoving his cock up into me. I lost complete control of myself as I screamed into the crook of his neck. I whimpered as he drove the head of his cock into my swollen g-spot over and over and over and over.

His moans began to sound muffled, a layer of white noise hanging around me. Even my heartbeat pounded in my ears louder as his hips continued to ram into mine. “Yes, yes, yes,” he kept saying, his pace growing erratic, but still hitting deep. I couldn’t hear anything else as I sunk into the pleasure of another high.

I choked on a sob, and my thighs began to ache as I still tried to hold my body up on Hyungsik’s thick cock. He was still slamming up into me as he chased his own high. I pulled harder at his hair, yanking a loud yell from him. I was as surprised as he was, but then his hot seed flushed into me and I felt completely dizzy. “Oh my God…”

Hyungsik let out an elongated sigh of satisfaction as he sat slowly down on the seat in the hot tub. We sat there clinging to each other in the warm water as we emerged from our wrecked states. Gradually, the overwhelming ringing in my ears settled.

Hyungsik grunted as I rose off of him. For once he helped steady me, holding on to me as I stumbled slightly. I shook my head, slicking my hair back with my hands. “Wow,” was all I could manage to say.

“You always take such good care of me,” he mused, an eyebrow raised. His eyes darted between mine, fixing finally on my lips. He pursed his own, lost somewhere in his thoughts.

It was a strange thing for him to say. I was after all getting paid for this. Sure, I walked into this hot tub naked by choice, but at the end of the day, he was holding this all above my head. I had been too eager and surprised to say no to such a powerful man. He was young, handsome, successful– what woman in their right mind would have turned him down? Now, a year later, he could easily blacklist me from any job on this side of the world. It only takes a rumor to topple a career. “It’s my job.”

#hyungsik #park hyungsik #park hyungsik smut #hyungsik smut #park hyungsik fanfic #hyungsik fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #ze:a #hwarang #hwarang smut #hwarang fanfic #taehyung #minho #sam maekjong #strong woman do bong soon #ceo

[fallenangelofmurderhusbands]

Death’s Beloved - A Hannigram Fic

((I can’t believe I am finally posting this somewhere. This is the first fic I have written for this wonderful fandom - and myself - and I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know if you find any errors, or have any comments. Right now this is just a simple stand alone one shot, but if enough readers request, I may create a sequal. 

Special thank you to @spider-viking @goddessakinator @asswhippingspoon @skeleton-wearing-a-bikini and @fataldrum for being amazing betas and offering to help me out! Sorry if I missed anyone, if I did just let me know and I’ll add you in!

Enjoy you lovely fannibals! 

-ML))

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        It was time. He had fought against it for so long.

Will’s eyes flicked down to his wrist, unfocused and distant they scanned over the date and times marked there.

                    August 29th 2013 – 11:58 pm. August 29th 2013 – 11:59 pm. August 30th 2013 – 12:00 am.

        He knew what the black tattoos scrawling across his wrist meant –  everyone had a similar one. The first was when you would accomplish your lifelong goal, the second when you would meet your soulmate and the third when you would die. Luckily for him, all the times on his wrist were minutes apart. As for why it was unlucky, well, no one wanted to never be able to live with their soulmate. He’d tried his hardest to make his times change. As rare as it was, there were stories of some who’d managed the feat. He’d tried everything, from praying to attempting suicide, but it was always met with the same outcome – nothing. Prayers went unanswered, and he was always found and saved before death could claim him. He’d eventually stopped trying, letting destiny carry him to his fate, numb to the pity people tossed his way.

        Will believed it was easier this way – living alone, surrounded by dogs and acres of empty land. People were distracting, what with all the pity and sorrow clouding their eyes. He didn’t need them to feel bad for him. After his third and last suicide attempt in high school, he had accepted that he would never have a life with the person he was destined to love. Instead, he poured his life and love into his passions and dreams. Fishing and writing became his escape from work, people, and the harsh reality in which he lived.

Now he stood at his front door, key halfway to the lock, eyes on his wrist. Today was the day. August twenty-ninth. The inevitable was closing in, and all he could do was heave a sigh. Finally, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, unlocked his door, and went inside. His herd of happy dogs greeted him, causing him to remain by the door to properly say hello and goodbye to each one. It was the buzzing of his cell that eventually forced him to move, setting down his keys and pulling out his phone. Jack’s number glowed under his phone’s clock, the time mocking him as it slowly ticked away. 8:00 pm. Four hours, the voice in his head whispered. Too long. Will hit the decline button, ignoring the call. Not tonight, Jack. Of all the nights, definitely not tonight.

Despite his oncoming death, a small smile appeared on his face as he walked into his bedroom, gaze falling onto the moonlit writing desk on which rested a book. Published under a pseudonym, the book was Will’s first step in achieving his life goal to change the world and be remembered after his death. It hadn’t so much been his ego as it was fear of fading from existence that had created the goal.

But now, a sense of calm washed through him as he took a seat and slid his book from the center of the desk to the top left corner to make room for the last draft of his second and final book. He pulled it from the top drawer to his right – it was sitting carefully atop the stack of previous rough drafts. His first book had taken off, becoming a bestseller for four consecutive years, and remaining in the top five for two more. The time stamp on his wrist told him he would succeed (although it could be argued that he had already), but that his last book would be published posthumously. Aware and uncaring, of the fact he wouldn’t experience the joy of publication again, he nevertheless lost himself in a final editing session with a carefree smile. At least this book would have his real name on the cover. If you couldn’t escape your fate, you might as well embrace it. Will had learned that lesson long ago.

        As fate had decreed, when he set his pen down for the last time, final draft complete, the clock read 11:58. Deciding he had a moment to spare (and not wanting to meet his soulmate in the bedroom, of all places), he headed to the kitchen for a celebratory glass of wine.

A man appeared as his tongue touched sweet, red liquid for the first time that night. Will’s eyes widened slightly as he shakily set his glass back down on the counter, taking in the sight before him. Only slightly taller, but with an ethereal air of confidence Will could never hope (literally, now) to emulate, the man that stood before him sported an immaculate dark plaid suit and bittersweet expression with equal grace and naturalness. His silver-streaked hair had been combed back into smooth but slightly choppy swoops, and Will could catch a glimpse of piercing amber eyes from underneath their soft streaks. The man spoke first, voice warm but words sending a shiver down Will’s spine. “I am Death,” was all he said before sweeping forward to taste the unswallowed wine on Will’s blood-stained lips. The clock struck midnight as their lips met and the sweet kiss of Death stole his breath and his soul.

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Will woke up to darkness blanketing the room. Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for his bedside lamp and upon finding it, flicked it on. He sat up with a yawn, then felt his eyes grow wide when he saw he wasn’t in his room. The suite sized bedroom was magnificent – Roman in taste, with white marble walls and high ceilings. Furnished with what appeared to be ludicrously expensive possessions, Will found himself awestruck by the sight before him.

        Awe gave way to confusion and surprise, which clouded his mind as he hesitantly got out of bed with the intention of exploring. He noticed the balcony doors were open to let in a warm night breeze and, drawn to the view he’d seen, he walked towards them. He hesitated when he saw a figure standing with its back to him, but when calm instead of fear seeped into his heart, he found the courage to approach the man. Will was welcomed with kind eyes and a warm smile, which he returned effortlessly (to his surprise). Still unsure of where he was and who he was with, Will tried his best to review his memories, only to find he couldn’t recall them. A hazy barrier, which was slowly ebbing away to his relief, kept them at bay for the moment.

        “You are awake. I was curious as to how long you would sleep.”

Will smiled as he gazed at the starry sky, but his brows creased when the realization came to him.

        “You’re Death… and my soulmate…” His voice trailed off in a wary whisper as the now-dubbed Death nodded. “Where is the moon, Death?” He could feel his memories slowly returning to him as he gazed out at the infinite space.

        “It has yet to die. Therefore, it cannot exist upon this plane.” Death paused a moment before continuing. “Tell me, what was it like to die?”

The soft voice snapped him back to awareness, memories flooding in, but the last thing he remembered was the kiss. His confusion manifested as sassiness as he responded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

        “You do not remember?” Death pursed his lips at his love’s choice of language, but if he disapproved, he didn’t address it.

        “I remember you kissing me and then I woke up here. Are you telling me I died, then?” Even as he asked, the answer was made evident by his blank wrist. The dates and times only left if the act had been fulfilled. He was indeed dead.

        “Contrary to the epics of old, you could not join me here unless you were dead. So, in short, yes. You died as we kissed.”

        “The kiss of Death. I could kill you for being so cliché.” Will chuckled, relaxing a bit more in Death’s presence. Of course the man he was destined to spend eternity with thrived on cliché puns.

        “Darling, I am already dead,” Death chided halfheartedly, amused by the man’s fiery spirit which, even in the realm of the dead, had brought a spark of life. He would become a powerful reaper, Death realized, and the idea pleased him greatly. A gently kiss drew him from his thoughts.

        “Care to share, love? What were you thinking about?” The pet name slid off Will’s tongue before he could catch it, but he didn’t care. After years of running, he’d finally learned fate’s plan for him – to love and be loved by this man – so why shouldn’t he start trusting in fate and in Death?

        “You.” Death smiled down at him, wrapping him in a strong and surprisingly warm embrace.

        “What about me?”

        “Your future, specifically. You have the potential to become a very powerful reaper.”

        “Oh. So now I have to work for my husband?” Will feigned annoyance, though his words carried weight.

        “Alongside, not for. I would never treat you as anything but my equal. Speaking of which – please call me Hannibal. Death is merely a title. It is not my name. And we cannot keep calling each other pet names forever. Would a first name basis not be more appropriate, Will? We are soulmates after all.”

        “U-um, yes we are soulmates. And yes, we should be, Hannibal. Now, if you would be so kind as to answer my question love, how do I become this ‘powerful reaper’?” Will smirked defiantly.

        “It is a process –  a becoming, so to speak. But it starts with the taking of your first life.” Hannibal sighed at Will’s dramatics and focused on the question instead.

        “Well, what are we waiting for?” Will smirked again as he saw the fire dance behind Hannibal’s eyes. He said nothing, and for once, nothing was the only answer Will needed.

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        The bracelet around his wrist caught the moonlight as his hand shot up to grip the jaw of the man before him. He had smoke in his eyes and Death at his back as he sucked the soul from yet another victim. As a murderer of families, this soul had been condemned to Hell.

        Hannibal had been right – his love carried a spark of life within his soul, and this stopped him from being able to reap the souls of the innocent. Will’s splinter of life caused him to empathize with them until he was incapable of taking their vibrant life. Death loved this about him, and was always there to reap those that Will couldn’t – Hannibal would never force him to give up his gift.

        However, when it came to the souls condemned to Hell, Will was merciless. Often finding pleasure in stealing their spark of life, he once admitted to Hannibal that doing bad things to bad people felt good and powerful. Hannibal’s response had merely been to smile in praise.

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Now, many years later, Will Graham is still remembered. His last book has become a classic, the material helping to better the world even as years progressed. But he is also remembered by a different name. Mortis Cupitus. Death’s Beloved. His presence has found its way into mythology. Stories told in the dead of night describe the man who takes vengeance on those who have sinned. Some say he is made from smoke and justice, others say he is dark matter and starlight. But despite the variations and ambiguity within each account, one fact remains constant – the bracelet around his wrist.

        As the saying goes, the charm bracelet had been a celebratory gift from Death after his love’s first kill, and Death’s Beloved adds a charm to the bracelet for every life he takes. The jingling of the charms is the only warning you get that he is there, and the flash of moonlight on the bracelet as his hand rises to your jaw is the last thing you’ll remember seeing before he sucks out your soul.

#hannigram #murder husbands #fanfiction #fanfic #hannibal art #hannibal fanfic #Death's Beloved #will graham #Hannibal Lector #first one i have written #can not believe i am doing this #now or never #woohoo

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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[nephyartis]

“Out of Memory”

The Bird

"Listen closely now, r—ready? Tell her. Rebecca was. She was, uh. She's gone. I need her back. The idol of my worship. My soup kitchen sacrifice. And my sister in arms. And—and I was her sunshine! She told me so. She—I—I—the idiot that could make her laugh and kept her grounded. The dumb math, all the time. Calculating. Why wouldn’t she do it herself? I guess obviously because when you live with an accountant, all math is your, uh. Your job. My second job. Or theirs. Mine. I’m really fucking this up, oh god. Okay, three months ago. We found out she was pregnant—pregnant. Nearly in tears. Happy tears, mind you. Like, sadistic times when I enjoyed seeing her frazzled. Reminded me she was, erm. She wasn’t a god, but actually human. Gods don't just go away. Do they? Hah, maybe that’s just part and parcel. Oh lord I’m fucking this up. Well she fucked it up. Create life then disappear forever. Kah! Stupid. Utterly ridiculous. It's also not the point. Irrelevant. This isn't about me. Not me. I keep trying to, uh. To remind myself. Hasn't stopped the guilt yet. An—and I think I'm just making it worse, honestly. So—so! The purpose of this is to explain. Rebecca didn't run away. Something bad has happened. I’m not sure what. Meili, I need your h-heck-help!" The bird squawked the ends of its message.

It was like watching some grade school science project blow up in your face, or that’s what Mei thought. The parakeet started violently thrusting its head back and forth, heaving spats of blood. Then it appeared to lose any sense of balance, all while still hemorrhaging. This was enough to convince her that it was a good time to slide the door shut. Still, Mei continued to watch from behind the glass pane. Watch as the bird’s frantic motions painted her studio balcony. It was morbidly—dumbfoundedly—fascinating. But the spell soon worn off as the creature finally started to sputter out. Likely due to blood loss, no doubt, as some seconds later it collapsed. Its emerald feathers posed a stark contrast, speckled and glistening against the red, as it lay there unmoving.

It was a contrast that only served to make its message seem all the more shocking. Or perhaps panicked? Should she feel panic? No. Focus. All concerns gradually boiled down to two root sentiments: Apathy and Disgust. A talking bird that pukes itself to death? This was a sick joke. She had to be at work in an hour. That thing just ruined her balcony. To top off, she had no idea who this ‘Rebecca’ person was. Mei deflated with a sigh, studying the sad mass of bird. Then it struck her. While she didn't know who Rebecca was, she did know a sappy accountant that could fit the bill as sender.

Turning quickly, she slid back into to the rolling chair she had left behind, riding it all the way back to her desk. Everything in the meager apartment was where it ought to be, from bed sheets to car keys. Save for that bloody blemish upon the balcony, of course. She forces it out of mind though, focusing on the task at hand. The desktop. It was a plain and unremarkable piece of furniture, even sporting a few scuff marks. As she approached, however, the latent machine was beckoned to life. A task window, resting documents, input controls, some textual reminders, and various animated characters, all became physically illuminated over its surface.

“Glen Peckard.” It took little more than the name and a flick of her wrist for the machine to read her query.

“Right away, ma’am!” The little characters all became animated, appearing to dive through networks and data dumps, before returning with their prize. Glen Peckard, and his public handles. In the times he and Mei had spoken, there was never mention of significant others. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but he was one awkward dolt. Sappy to a fault.

“Any hits for a Rebecca?”

A notification chimes. Zero cross-references between Rebecca and Glen. Next up was private media networks. Being the breed of hopeless shut-in he was, Glen probably wasn't active on any shared networks, but it was worth checking at this rate.

Or it would be, except the search wouldn’t execute. No voice or virtual command seemed to register. Even after using the keyboard for manual entry, the machine simply refused to cooperate. So she leaned far to the right, chair squeaking as she examined the cord that trailed up from the back of the desk and to the ceiling. Up there was where the projection node hung. Everything about it seemed intact, though, and so to spite its failings, Meili started to snap her fingers up at it impatiently. As if the machine were under any obligation to respond. All the animated characters watched on, indifferent.

“Hey... Search!” It didn’t help, of course, but by the time the command did execute, she was standing in her chair, snapping up at the node. Glen’s latest logins were over six months ago, on a local networking server. This was going nowhere. Voice, text, and video attempts were all equally futile. Mei leveled a deadpan glare at the display field, once again trying to pressure the machine into spitting out the answers. Glen would reply sooner or later. Not that glaring should have him reply any quicker of course, but in her mind, the contest had only just begun. Before long, she would find herself reclined in the chair, then standing behind the chair, then eventually perched on her bed in the distance, watching from across the room. As if giving the machine more space was going to ease it into delivering Glen's reply any faster. Instead, the silence that followed gave way to the outside world. An incessant buzz of insects and the distant wail of a siren. No familiar chime of a new notification, though. So she deflates with a sigh once more, falling flat on the bed. It was about time for her to get going.

Keys, wallet, bag, umbrella, and socially appropriate attire. Check. She ran through the list with a nod. Next combing her fingers through the bangs of her hair, so as to tie it all back. Glen's place wasn't far and even if he wasn't behind this, she could still probably get him to clean up the bird.

Oh. The bird. Her eyes closed with a wince as the dead critter creeped back to mind. No. There was enough to worry about with the upcoming Servo Rally. The bird could wait.

Open Doors

"Move your fucking freckle!" Someone a few cars back blared their horn. Both the manual and autodriver lanes were at a crawl, trying to enter New Albany. The city even had their electric dummies up, which were basically just repurposed street lamps. Tall cylindrical chambers that depicted holographic persons inside, all dressed in safety vests and waving newcomers towards the rally. Fortunately, however, this would be the worst of it for Mei.

After finding her exit, she let go of the wheel and just laid her head against the window, looking up at the sky. A metamorphosis was about to take place. Soon the midday sun would be swallowed up by towering structures and the web of advertisements that hung between them. The murky Brisbane that snaked through the city's center would be no exception. Its waters full of ferries and freighters. These were sights less common for those who lived inland, where it was nothing but scorched wastelands. And everything was all the more bustling thanks to the political festivities.

"You have arrived." The car slowed to a stop, just outside of a large shadowed complex. It was a quiet street, vacant of any other vehicles or signs of life. As if all the city's blood had been pulled inwards, leaving the outskirts in a state of dreamless sleep. In fact, that’s probably what Glen was doing right about then. Sleeping. Mei stepped out and approached the building, glancing up towards the third floor where his room ought to be. Hanging there, just behind a bit of window curtain, was a fluorescent bird cage. It was like a neon sign showing exactly who to blame. The prior sense of disgust began to churn in the pit of her being once more, but not in the company of apathy. This time she laughed. She laughed equal parts vengeful sadist, and dissociative disbelief. And it would be that laughter that formed the basis of the smile that she wore, all the way up to room 306.

Knock, knock. "You home? Helloooo." She drew out the words in a mix of honey and venom. But no reply. Next came the door-bell. She rang it over and over again, in obnoxious repetition. After a few seconds more, there was still no reply. So with a huff and puff, Meili started to dig through her shoulder-bag until she found her jackknife. Of course, this wasn’t an ordinary jackknife. It was proprietary technology of CyberDags LLC. Her place of work. Instead of a blade, a mechanised key folded out from its handle. Once activated, it would attempt to match itself to whatever lock it was inside. Normally she was paid to do this sort of thing, but this was a special exception.

"I've respected your privacy by knockin' but am asserting my concern for your well-being by comin' in anyways!" The moment was a rush, as her tool made short work of the lock, and the sarcastic line simply emboldened her grin. She was ready to charge in with fangs bared. However even with her manic bitterness for what Glen had done, she was ill-prepared for the sights within.

There were no lamps on, leaving the room sparsely lit by what light could seep in between the curtains. Even still it was enough to tell something was wrong. The apartment looked to have been rearranged, either by some demented artistry or an internal explosion. To the left, kitchen shelves were thrown open. Their contents mostly shattered across the floor. In the distance, a closet had evidently erupted, spewing out its clothes. And to the right, each drawer of the nearby desk had been pulled opened, some completely pulled free. The room was littered in loose paper. Yet despite all the apparent chaos, everything created visual cues, leading one's eye to the center of the room where a horribly warped ceiling fan slowly spun in place. It was barely hanging from the roof by its wires, further serving to illuminate the place with electric sparks of light. Glen lay on the ground just below it, motionless. Without thinking she stepped closer but almost immediately slowed her pace. There were no signs of blood and it looked like he was still breathing. The bastard. Meilie’s posture stiffened, hands held tightly down at her sides, forcing a quiet laugh. Her smile returned.

"Had a wild night, did ya? Wake up, asshole." She got closer, crouching to the floor with knees tucked to chest, fully intent on slapping him awake. But at that moment she became suddenly aware there was someone, or something else, encroaching the periphery of her vision. She immediately looked up to see… nothing. That’s all she could think to call it. Nothing.

She was face-to-face with Nothingness. A patch of space from which the very air seemed to flee. It formed some nimbus shadow of absolute void. Through it translucent mass, everything appeared sharper. Mei was utterly baffled, losing balance and stumbling back onto her rear. As if in response, the epicenter of the shadowy nimbus blinked. The entire room trembled. Its invisible mass pressed into two opposite ends. Each one swelled then spilled to the floor, like a stream of tears. But there was no splash. Not a sound. Nothing.

"Glen!?" Mei shrieked in condemnation. Another sick joke? She began frantically kicking him in the side but Glen still wouldn’t stir. Instead, those stagnant streams of nothingness both begin reaching for his right foot, and as they did, the rubber of his shoe began to peel off in weightless flakes. Shortly after, so did his flesh. Droplets of blood, dusty shards of bone and strands of muscle fiber, all being torn free as they gravitated upstream. Gradually forming an entirely new entity as they melded together in the shadow's core. Creating that of a worm like tube, pale and ridged with membranous layers of mucus. Four triangular flaps of naked muscle eventually defining its mouth, as the tube contracted, then breathed out some form of archaic language.

"Vaj-took-kal."

#writtensamples

[fugitive-magician]

Surya's Backstory!

(I know it’s very long but please try to read the whole thing! I’m very sorry, I just have so much story to tell through him. If you are in a hurry, there is a TL; DR at the end ;u; )

-He was born in medieval England!! His real name is Alistair Payne! His physical age is around 36 years old. He was born in the early 1410s in the outskirts of a rural farming village, and he worked the farm and tended to his animals as a child. His parents passed away when he was young, and while the villagers came to check on him every so often, he spent most of his time around nature. He turned 36 sometime in the late 1440s, after the Valais Witch Trials and the execution of Joan of Arc, but before the release of the Malleus Maleficarum. This era was the beginning of medieval witch hunt hysteria, and after making use of unconventional healing salves and farming methods to help his friends and his animals, Alistair was eventually accused and burned for being a witch.

-But!! He wasn't burned! At the last minute, when he was tied to the stake, he was rescued by members of the Nova Corps as a part of their new defense strategy: Project Renaissance.

-Project Renaissance was a "charity" project proposed to the Xandarians by a Kree biophysicist named Ahbeo Driaxe. Ahbeo was secretly the leader of a radical cult called the Cintaya, which focused on the use of black magic. Members of the Cintaya were outcasts of society, born from hate and misunderstanding. As such, many members of the of the Cintaya were Skrull, pushed to serve a Kree sorceress by the hate and scorn the Kree lavished upon them, in hopes of destroying their oppressors.

-When an organism dies, the release of their soul from their body causes a sort of exothermic reaction which results in their cells releasing Qi (life force energy) and latent magical energy, as the muscles relax and the decaying process begins. Black magic aims on gathering and using this energy by slaughtering organisms to perform spells.

-Ahbeo's cult in particular was obsessed with purity, and aimed at using black magic to summon an ancient demon named Malnata, who would ultimately consume everything in the universe and reorganize the matter into a new, pristine universe. The cult made use of the Skrull’s shapeshifting abilities in order to kidnap and murder opposers to their ideals. However, all Cintaya members were identifiable by their black blood, as they made use of some of the magic they harvested to lengthen their lifespans until they could see Malnata’s forthcoming. Their cult slaughtered thousands, but Ahbeo soon realized that this was an inefficient method of gathering black magic energy, as it drew the attention of intergalactic authorities and jeopardized their mission. She realized that, instead of gathering energy by killing thousands of people once, she could gather the same amount of energy in secret by killing one organism a thousand times.

-The Nova Corps, unknowing of her true identity and intentions, supported Project Renaissance, named for the human era in which it was started and after the human word for "reborn". The project was an initiative to take lost and doomed individuals from Earth and give them another chance at life by replacing their living cells with networks of energy, making them immune to sickness and aging. They would lose all their memories of their tragic lives and would live anew as protectors of the Xandarian people. This was to ensure that the project was both charitable and did not dramatically affect Earth's timeline by removing key representatives of humanity’s development.

-Intergalactic laws on human experimentation were very slack during this time period, and humans were often viewed in the same way as puppies or endangered animals. Key forerunners of human progress were known as “Ambassadors”, a classification that would continue to be used by the Xandarians and other alien races far into the future. The actions of Ambassadors are constantly monitored by the Nova Corps and other intergalactic governments in order to judge humanity’s advancement as a species and their aptness for being invited to participate in intergalactic councils of civilized races.

-By having bodies made of energy, the subjects of Project Renaissance could live forever in the same, unchanging state that they were rewritten in. They could exist without resource consumption (food, air, water, etc.) or susceptibility to chemical damage, as they’re no longer capable of chemical processes besides sensing chemicals in the form of taste and smell. They didn’t age, and while their bodies couldn’t heal on their own, being exposed to a source of whatever energy they’re formed from allows them to regenerate whatever wound or damage they’re afflicted with. Under the condition that they have an energy source that they could use to regenerate every 24 hours, they could even feasibly exist comfortably without sleep or rest. However, if their bodies are not regenerated, they begin to lose their energy, which results in their whole form losing its color and eventually disintegrating.

-There were 78 total subjects in Project Renaissance. Each subject was rewritten with a network of different energies, including infinity stone energy, energy from the dark dimension, and plasma energy. However, 77 of the subjects proved unsuccessful, as the humans’ organic bodies refused to be replaced properly with the new energy bodies, creating corrupted networks that resulted in disgusting eldritch monsters, similar to the creature at the beginning of this. These failed test subjects were promptly ejected into space. Photon energy was used to rewrite Alistair, and he became Subject #78, making him the final and only successful subject of the project. In #78’s case, eating or drinking would be very bad for him, as his energy body can’t physically break down food. He regenerates and heals by being exposed to sunlight, as his body is made of photons, making him a living sunbeam!

-The subjects of Project Renaissance were meant to have bodies that followed the 50% Law, in which they could fully regenerate if 50% of their total energy was in one piece. This meant that even if their heart stopped and they died, they could still be brought back to life if exposed to energy and regenerated, making it only possible for them to die permanently if their bodies deteriorated past 50%. The Nova Corps believed that the project would give the lost humans a new purpose as protectors of civilian populations. After saving them from their inevitable deaths by whisking them away and transforming them into perfectly efficient soldiers, the Nova Corps would educate the subjects in language and law, teaching them how to be moral humans again. However, Ahbeo was instead using the project as a way to exploit Xandarian research and resources to create the perfect sacrifice: one that could die over and over again.

-After #78 was created and trained successfully, Ahbeo stole him away to a place called the Altar, a meteor with a completely colorless, lightless interior, and the main base of the Cintaya. There, she physically and mentally abused him, feeding him partial truths: that he lived a meaningless life on Earth, that he was created so that he could die, that his own people wanted him dead, and that the Xandarians no longer valued him because he was an inorganic piece of energy, and therefore not technically alive. Filling his head with images of the masses she slaughtered in the past, she warned #78 that she would kill thousands more if he didn’t comply. She drove #78 to commit ritualistic suicide over and over, urging him that it was his purpose, and gathering the energy from each of his deaths to eventually manifest Malnata in his body.

-The Nova Corps were horrified by how Ahbeo had tricked them and by the plot that their project had furthered. Covertly, they hunted Ahbeo and #78, finding the meteor and laying siege to the Cintaya. In an attempt to finish preserve her cult and her goals, Ahbeo locked the Altar in a pocket dimension, and turned herself in for arrest. Terrified of himself and of returning to the Xandarian labs, #78 fled escaped the Nova Corps and fled. The research and development of Project Renaissance was abruptly discontinued, and because of Ahbeo’s betrayal, the Nova Corps never released the project to the public, hoping to keep their failure and naivete a secret and to cover up any association they had with the Cintaya. As #78 was the last remaining evidence of the project’s existence, they labeled him as a wanted fugitive in the hopes of hunting him down and destroying him. This was to prevent him from revealing the project to public, prevent the Cintaya from ever being able to summon Malnata, and to finally lay the project to rest.

-#78 spent years in hiding, hopping from planet to planet, learning the languages and cultures of many different races. He was essentially a new human, unsure of how to navigate the world or relationships with others. He had no memories of who he was before the project, and no way of retrieving his identity files from the Nova Corps without risking his arrest and death. Thus, he realized he had to return to Earth in order to discover more about his past, and ended up crashing near the base of Mt. Everest in the late 1540s, 100 years later. Sorcerers of the Kamar Taj found him and took him in from there. After they discovered he didn’t know his real name besides his number, they gave him the name “Surya” after the Hindu sun god, because of his need for sunlight to survive.

- At Kamar Taj, he was taught how to be human, including how to manipulate magic. Because Surya was made from energy, he found it easy to channel energy, but not control it completely. At this point in time, the Ancient One was training at the Kamar Taj. (I have a few important headcanons about her here!) In her earlier years of training, the Ancient One was stubborn, strong-willed, and headstrong. She learned magic through years of hard work and forceful training, and was annoyed by Surya’s aptitude for understanding the flow of universal energy. She used to call him “eanling” which was an Old Irish shepherd term for a freshly dropped lamb that still needed to learn to walk.

While her ideology was more aligned with the traditional views of the Kamar Taj and focused on manipulating magic to further her goals, Surya focused his training on letting magic flow naturally and appreciating its beauty. Surya disagreed with a lot of the temple's teachings, and formed a bit of a rivalry with the Ancient One. He believed that magic is most effective when it is allowed to flow freely, as opposed to being concentrated into specific spells and geometric patterns. He also believed that magic and relics could be used for more than just protection and combat, and that they could be channeled as tools for communication and compassion. Because of this, he specializes in more ambiguous, indirect magic, such as healing, clairvoyance through cards, clairvoyance through dreams, light illusions, psychological reading, and communication across dimensions. He can also concentrate sun energy  into nebulous shields and kinesis.

-Because of their drastically different magical styles, the Ancient One and Surya actually learned a lot from each other. She taught him how to stand up for himself and how to face his problems head on, as opposed to the running he was used to doing from his pursuers. Additionally, he taught her how to find peace with her flaws, and how to overcome enemies using emotions and understanding as opposed to brute force. They ended up becoming good friends and used their competition to better themselves as sorcerers. She was one of the few people that he told about his history with the Cintaya. The mid 1540s was during the era of colonization and mercantilism, so the two of them traveled the world together, as the Ancient One showed Surya the planet that he was from, and all the magical places and sources in it, in order to teach him what it meant to be human.

-At this point in time, the Nova Corps had deduced that Surya was on Earth, and sent sentries down to try and arrest him. Afraid of threatening the safety of the Ancient One and his new family at the Kamar Taj, Surya fled with her to her homeland in Ireland, where they lived in a small cottage next to the flower fields at the base of the Wicklow Mountains. They stayed in hiding there for a while, hoping the mountain peaks would scramble the signals of the Xandarian ships, and Surya cooked for the both of them while they continued their studies. However, the Nova Corps found them, and Surya knew that he would have to leave Earth in order for the sentries to leave. He left the cottage on a stolen Xandarian ship and was on the run again.

-Surya was eager to use his new magical skills to form a new identity for himself. He was determined to not fulfill the purpose that the Cintaya had designed him for, and focused all of his energy on helping others and fighting against hatred and fear, formally swearing an oath of pacifism. He visited planets under oppressive rule and helped to inspire revolutions. He tended to the poor and saved lives from natural disasters. He negotiated to break up crime rings and turn in other criminals for arrest. All the while, he wrote messages to the Nova Corps about his work, hoping to prove his worth and clear his name of their criminal charges. These letters started off as detailed descriptions, but when he found out that the Nova Corps were interrogating the people he had helped to try and track his whereabouts, they became less and less explicit, until he settled upon simply sending them messages with numbers: cryptic counts of how many lives he had saved.

-In this period, Surya also worked to track down the failed test subjects of Project Renaissance. Once he found his siblings, he broke down their shifting physical bodies, asking them where they would like to go. Knowing that their souls would be too corrupted by their energy networks to have the strength to pass on to the afterlife, he gave the souls of each of his siblings the option to be stored in a deck of tarot cards, which act like pocket dimensions that provide the souls with energy and keep them from disintegrating. This deck became his relic and friend, providing him with insight when he gives readings.

-Magical traders and underground dealers throughout the universe became aware of Surya’s presence. Blood of the Condemned is a necessity for darker spells and rituals, and because he is not made of organic matter, his blood is in high demand, as it can never expire if it's kept in sunlight. His blood is often called "Star Blood" or "Blood of the Sun God" on the market. Until he clears his name and is no longer condemned by the Nova Corps, he will continue to be hunted for it.

-After centuries in space, Surya returned to earth around the 1970s and visited the cottage again in the hopes of finding the Ancient One. After not being able to find her, he set up a network of magical safe-houses around the globe so the Nova Corps couldn’t track him. It wasn’t safe for him to stay in one place for too long, so he created a pocket dimension that could be multiple places at once: a series of magic shops in LA, NYC, the Sahara Desert, the Amazon Rainforest in Peru, the cottage in Wicklow, the marketplaces in Tibet, and even in the mist realm of Niflheim. Each shop had a room  inside with a curtain for a door and a doormat in front of it. The doormats were enchanted with a spell similar but weaker than the magic on Thor’s hammer. Instead of judging the worthiness of a person over their entire lifetime and family lineage, the doormats would judge the intentions of the person over the past few days. If they had no ill intentions towards Surya, a key would appear under the doormat, and the person could enter the pocket dimension: Surya’s house, with multiple doors to his various magic shops and extra rooms for when he as guests. However, a person were to pass through the curtain door without the key, they would pass through the pocket dimension and enter a dusty, empty, second room of the magic shop they were in. In worst case scenarios, he would also stay frequently with his allies on other planets-- friends he's made along the way by helping them out when they were in trouble.

- In order to make a little money, Surya gives tarot card readings, palm readings, and spiritual consultations. He visits people’s homes or buildings and speaks to their spirits, acting more like a ghost therapist than a ghost hunter. By calming the spirits and working with them to resolve the issues that keep them from passing on, he’s able to clear the houses of haunting. On rare occasions, Surya also eradicates demons and performs exorcisms. He often forgets to charge his clients for his services, however, as he pities them and the spirits that haunt them. Outside of his work he researches medieval history to try and discover his past and catalogs his dreams, as he frequently wakes up with nightmares of the future and the Cintaya.

TL ; DR

- Surya (real name: Alistair Payne) was born in the middle ages, but he was kidnapped by a black magic cult called the Cintaya led by a Kree named Ahbeo Driaxe, and had all his memories of his childhood and history erased

- The Cintaya created a project called Project Renaissance, where they experimented on him to make his body out of sunlight, making him immortal, unable to eat food, age, or heal on his own, and able to regenerate if put into sunlight, even if his heart stops and he dies

-This is so they could sacrifice him over and over again until he generates enough energy to summon and be possessed by their patron demon, Malnata

-Project Renaissance had many test subjects, all of which turned into terrible monsters, which Surya captured later in his tarot deck

-The Nova Corps were tricked into supporting Project Renaissance, and so they attacked the Cintaya and put a bounty on Surya’s head

-Surya escaped, crashed on Earth, befriended the people at the Kamar Taj, including the Ancient One, who was training there at the time, and learned magic

-He traveled the universe, on the run from the remaining Cintaya, the Nova Corps, and blood hunters, who want to harvest his blood and sell it for black magic purposes. He helped a ton of people and led a lot of peaceful revolutions in order to try and clear his name and prove he wasn’t a monster

-He then returned to Earth where he set up a bunch of magic shops all over Earth connected by a pocket dimension where his house is. He sells tarot card readings, palm readings, and clears spirits and demons from people’s homes

#backstory #lore #long post

[thevikingspromise-blog]

The Viking’s Promise

Chapter Two

Esben strode outside. Mourners were already beginning to gather by the door to Alf’s longhouse. They were people Esben had known his whole life—Haakon the blacksmith, who made the finest weapons, and Hege his apprentice, with shipbuilders Leif, Inga and Ode.

Hege moved aside to let Esben pass. Today, they didn’t seem like friends, more like strangers. He’d spent the past ten winters at sea, returning home for a scant two months each winter.

Stein raised a hand in greeting but Frea, standing beside him, kept her head bowed.

“Thanks,” muttered Esben to his crewman. “You’d better get back inside, they’re already planning his funeral.”

Stein hurried away, and Esben focused on Frea. She didn’t move, it was if she’d turned to stone, grief freezing her body. “Let’s get out of here,” he grunted and pulled her away from the other mourners.

“Where are you taking me?” Frea stumbled behind. “I can’t leave him. I have to prepare the b-body. Alf would have wanted—”

He glanced behind. Bersi had followed him out, and his eyes were boring holes into Frea’s back. “Not here.” He sped up, marching her through the small settlement, towards the cliffs. He wanted to get her out of sight before Dalla’s right hand man decided to try using force again.

Beyond the houses he paused. Forty yards below waves smashed against the rocks, sending sea spray flying. A cold wind pulled at his clothes and he drew a deep breath. Alf’s house had been constricting, he preferred the freedom of the outdoors.

Beside him, Frea shifted uneasily.

“Christian or of ancient custom, it makes no difference,” he said, breaking the silence. “In ten days, Alf’s funeral prier will be lit and you’ll be on it.”

"Typical arrogant Norse," she whispered, the words barely louder than the wind.

He stared down at her with a sardonic gaze. She had more spirit than the average thrall. He was impressed, despite himself. ”Watch your mouth. I'm more lenient than most, but I'll not be insulted."

“My lord.” She bobbed her head, obediently, almost mockingly.

He released her hand, and it fell lifelessly to her side.

“It’s not all that bad,” he muttered. She was a thrall and therefore the perfect candidate to accompany Alf into Valhalla. There was nothing else to it. “You won’t have to work between now and then. You’ll be waited on hand and foot. The finest food and drink, and then...”

Tell your master that I did this because of my love to him, he silently quoted the sacred line.

“Here.” He moved along the cliff’s edge, heading further up hill towards a small building. “You’ll stay here for the next ten days.”

“But...” She shook her head. “That’s your house.”

He turned his attention to the building with its low, turf roof and simple wooden walls. It had been his father’s, set away from the rest of the village because of his mother’s illness. Some said she'd been insane but the little he could remember of her was all kindness and love. He gritted his teeth and sped up, suddenly desperate to be inside. He’d been at sea for less than a year when his father died, and hardly returned home since.

They drew closer—the turf smelt a little mouldy and the wood was weatherbeaten. Everything had a disused feel. He kicked the door open and they stumbled inside, squinting in the sudden darkness. It was a single-roomed house with a bed, a small trestle table and chair, a weapons’ trunk, and a cold hearth.

He bent down to check the lock on the weapons’ trunk hadn't rusted with age. He didn't really think she would try sometime stupid, but there was an element of fight in her that other thralls didn't possess, and he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

The lock held, and he straightened. "Everything you need is here," he said, sweeping a hand through the air, indicating the bed and hearth.

Frea didn't move, just stared down at her feet again.

He suddenly wanted to shake her. She was doing an honourable thing. Devoting oneself entirely to their chief for all of eternity was the greatest gift a person could give. Her life was Alf’s life. Her soul his constant companion.

The moment she'd arrived at their settlement, she'd been Alf's favoured thrall. If she'd thought that exempted her, she'd been terribly wrong. "Surely the other thralls warned you of what would happen if the chief died? It was always inevitably you."

“Alf didn’t—” She froze.

“What?”

She shook her head, her mouth clamping shut.

He clenched his fists. He didn't have time to worry about the feelings of thrall. He just needed to make sure she was healthy for the funeral. “Sit,” he growled, pointing to his bed. She did. "Stay." He hurried outside to the firewood stacked along the side wall, and pilled logs into his arms. Inside, he dumped them by the hearth.

Frea hadn’t moved from the bed although she’d tucked her hands into the pocket of her dress. She looked so small, so helpless against the swelling tide of events. “Um…” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “I'll get you something to eat.” And left, shutting the door shut behind him.

Frea took a deep, shuddering breath. Everything was moving too fast. She could hardly keep up with anything. Alf. Dead. And she was to be sacrificed. The promise.

Esben.

She didn't know how to act around him. He wasn't like the other Norsemen she'd met. His power was unmistakable. He moved with such confidence; the sword, dagger and battle-axe hanging from his belt seemed a part of him, as though he could draw them at any moment and they would become an extension of his arm. And yet, when he looked at her there was a faint hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Frea shook her head. That couldn’t be the case. He clearly believed in the ancient lore with more conviction than Alf, and certainly more than herself.

He wanted her to die for his chief.

If only he hadn't returned she might have escaped. There was still time. She jumped to her feet and leapt across the room, but the door wouldn't open. Esben must have barred it from the outside. Next, she tried the window shutter, it opened easily but the window looked rather small. She measured the width of her hips against the width of the window then banged her fist against the wall. There was no way she could fit, even if she stripped bare.

"Really?" she asked the room angrily. She wanted to cry. No, she wanted to yell.

To run. To fly.

She jammed kindling into the fire, desperate to do something, anything, and scrapped her hand against the rough wood. Sitting back on her heels she buried her face in her hands. “Why did you have to get yourself killed?”

I didn’t do it on purpose, he would have said.

“I know. But now everything is so messed up.”

You knew this might happen. From the corner of her eye she could almost see Alf, his shoulder-length hair untied, his hands locked behind his back.

“I didn’t know Esben would return early and lock me in his house.”

It is tradition to keep the sacrifice under lock and key.

“Not like this. Not him.” She couldn’t explain it, even to herself. He just rubbed her the wrong way.

She glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to set, and streaks of golden light lit up the sky. The fire was still unlit. She picked up Esben’s flints, but it suddenly seemed such a huge effort to create a spark.

“Ten days,” she murmured, trying to cheer herself up. Esben had promised her ten days, and each day would be a new opportunity to escape. He couldn’t leave her locked up here forever.

“Leave at dark, travel south to Helgi. Find Egil,” she repeated. “Egil will shelter you.” Alf had worked out all the details years ago, and had taught Frea the plan until she could recite it word perfectly. Just in case anything happened to him. But she’d never thought for one moment that it would actually come to pass.

She gnarled her lower lip. Reciting the words and actually carrying out the plan were two very different things.

I know you can do it, he’d said time and time again.

She breathed out a deep sigh. If only she believed in herself as Alf had.

A lump formed in her throat as she suddenly remembering Alf’s last words. You have more allies than you believe. I’ve made sure of that. But what had he meant? She had no friends in this world but him. She shook her head. Alf was gone. She had no friends at all.

Frea dropped the flints and grasped the handle of the small hunting knife she’d taken from Alf’s trunk. It was a small start but she still needed some food, a drinking container and another cloak if she was to get very far. Winter was on its way and a chill crept across the land each night. Without more warm clothes, she’d freeze before the first night was over.

There was a thump and the door opened. Esben stepped inside quickly followed by Dalla.

Frea jumped to her feet, bowed her head and scurried into the corner of the room. Dalla, Carrier of Death, preferred her thralls to remain subdued or punishment was swiftly issued.

In one hand the old woman held a short knife, the blade thicker than an ordinary dagger, and in the other, a large flask. Frea swallowed. The sacrificial knife. Dalla carried it with her everywhere, even though it was used but rarely twice a lifetime.

Had the ten days passed already? Since the moment of Alf’s death everything seemed to have passed in a blur.

“Here, girl.” Dalla held the flask towards Frea and she hurried forward to take it, then glanced left and right, searching for cups. It was strange for the visitor to have brought her own wine, but Dalla had always done everything her own way.

“Neinn, girl,” she snapped. “It’s for you.”

Frea blinked. Nobody ever gave her anything. She’d spent the last ten winters surviving on scraps from Alf’s kitchen, eating the food none of the freemen wanted.

Dalla sighed as if she was explaining the basics to a slow-witted child. “It’s special wine, brewed especially for the sacrifice. You’re to drink it everyday and it will give you visions of the death journey into Valhalla.”

“Valhalla?” The Norse word felt heavy on her tongue. Could somebody’s spirit travel to an afterlife they didn’t really believe in? She fiddled with the stopper, running her finger around and around the cork.

Dalla pulled it from her hands, ripped out the stopper and pushed the flashed back into Frea’s grasp. “For Valhalla’s sake thrall, drink. It’s your right.”

Frea took a small sip and the liquid burnt down her throat. It was like nothing she’d ever tasted before. It had been intoxicatingly sweetened with honey and cranberries. The world spun faster.

“All right.” Esben pulled open the door and tried to sweep Dalla outside. “You’ve said your piece, now get out.”

“Not so fast. I’ve got to prep the girl. She needs to know what is going to happen.”

“I’ve already checked. She knows.”

Frea looked between them. Esben obviously didn’t want Dalla in his house, but Dalla didn’t want to relinquish her rights so soon. She didn’t think Dalla actually cared about her, the old hag just wanted to have her say and to feel she’d contributed.

“Do you?” Dalla demanded.

“I...” They wanted her to say it? Out loud? She opened her mouth but nothing happened. She tried again. “I’ll be killed. And my body will be placed with Alf’s on the funeral pier and b-burnt.”

Dalla rolled her eyes, pushed her way back passed Esben and sat on the only chair. “But it’s so much more than that. You’ve been chosen to fulfil a very special role. You will serve Alf in the otherworld for the rest of eternity. And your role for the funeral is much more than just a sacrifice, you’ll be expected to join in all the festivities and then—”

“She gets the idea,” barked Esben, still holding the door open.

“It’s a great honour, she should be proud.”

“She is. But it’s been a long day, and it’s getting late.” He sounded so sure of himself even though he was talking with the Carrier of Death, the most powerful ritual adviser in the settlement. But why? It couldn’t be that he cared for Frea and wanted to spare her feelings. There had to be another reason. Maybe it was just Dalla; Esben looked like a hound with his hackles up. Frea couldn’t blame him, Dalla and her loyal follower, Bersi, were slimy creatures.

She raised her chin. That might be the case, but Esben didn’t need to stand up for her. Frea might be a slave but that didn’t mean she’d completely lost her own voice. “If it’s such a great honour, why don’t you volunteer?” she snapped, the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Punishment would be issued, but again, nothing happened. Rather, Dalla’s eyes sparkled. “I have another job, one of great significance. I get to send you into death.” She touched Esben elbow, and he pulled away. “He will hold onto the rope around your neck, strangling you, as I plunge my dagger into your heart.”

Frea swallowed, her eyes jumping to Esben. Her killer. Her murderer.

He stared back at her and there was a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes. Just for a moment, then it was gone, replaced by nothingness. Frea bit her lip—how could somebody be so emotionless after what Dalla had just said? Did he really feel nothing towards her? No sympathy or pity?

Dalla rose, a smug smile playing around her lips. “I’ll leave you two.” She took a step towards Esben and laid a wrinkly hand on his arm. “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you. She doesn’t look too pleased.” And she left.

Esben closed the door behind her then placed some bread on the table. “Eat,” he ordered.

Frea took the bread, suddenly hungry and pushed a piece into her mouth. Chewing, Frea peered down at the flash in her other hand. Good food and wine in the same day. It was a rare treat and all because she was to be sacrificed.

The bread seemed to turn to ash in her mouth. She swallowed, nauseous.

Esben shook his head. “You’re really going to drink that?”

Frea shrugged. There wasn’t much else she could do, not when the door was locked and escape seemed all but beyond her grasp.

He turned his back on her, knelt before the hearth and kindled a spark. His shoulders tensed and his movements abrupt.

She’d upset him. Good. He’s upset her too.

Then again, an angry Norse lord didn’t bode well for the safety of a slave. “Why, don’t you think I should?” she asked, a little harsher than intended.

He didn’t answer and Frea was sure she’d finally overstepped the mark, then, “There’s no honour in drink. Wouldn't you rather die with honour?”

“Honour?” She should have guessed. The Norse were always talking of honour, but it was a system she didn’t understand. Forcing innocents into slavery wasn’t honourable in her opinion.

He grunted. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. It’s your right, as Dalla said.” His shoulders dropped and he stoked the fire, throwing on larger pieces of wood, slowly building it up until the whole room was cast in golden shadows.

His large, strong-looking hands worked the fire with practiced patience. His muscles were tense and the curve of them was clearly visible through the tight fabric of his shirt sleeves. She thought back to the moment in Alf’s rooms when she’d tried to run and he engulfed her in his arms, pulling her against his broad chest. It had been like battling with the iron bars of a cage: unescapable and indestructible. But at the same time, he’d taken care not to harm her.

But in ten days, those same hands would grasp the rope around her neck and pull, slowly cutting off her air supply. A dullness settled over Frea. Her limbs felt heavy with inactivity. She wet her lips, but no sounds beyond a gasp escaped them. This was the end. Her life...her worthless life was over.

No, she couldn’t think like that. Alf had a plan and she at least had to try fulfilling it.

Esben straightened, wiping his hands down the side of his breeches and leaving a streak of blood behind.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing.” He didn’t turn.

“Alf always said ‘a clean wound is one to be proud of’.” She sighed. Alf had almost always been injured, in one small way or another. When he hadn’t been fighting the neighbours, he’d helped the farmers plough the land or butcher the cattle. And she’d always been the one to tend to him. It had pleased her to care for him as he’d cared for her.

“I remember,” Esben snorted, a hint of amusement lightening his words, but then his voice dropped a note, falling back to its usual seriousness. “How did it happen, Frea?”

He knew her name. Her eyes widened. They'd barely spoken in ten winters, he'd barely even acknowledged her existence, and yet, he knew her name. A thrill ran up her spine.

"Well?" he demanded.

Frea nibbled her lip. To talk of Alf’s injuries so soon after his death was a new type of torture. She looked up—Esben watched her closely. His large, blue eyes were framed by soft, pale lashes. His lips were pursed, as thought this time he was having a little more trouble hiding his emotions. Esben had been Alf’s greatest friend; despite her own reservations towards him, he deserved to know.

“It was an accident,” she said, slowly. Esben took half a step closer so she continued, “Lightening hit one of the trees right next to the shipyard. Everyone ran outside to help but the wind changed suddenly and Alf caught fire. He rolled on the ground and put it out quickly, but the damage was done. He had burns across—” She rubbed a hand across her stomach indicating the place where Alf had been most injured.

Silence fell.

Esben ran a hand through his hair, standing it on end. “That’s...” He seemed lost for words and she felt a sudden urge to comfort him. They’d both lost a dear friend today. Despite all their differences, they’d shared Alf.

“All right,” he said eventually. “There’s supplies under the bed.”

It took Frea a moment to realise what he was talking about, then she remembered the cut on his palm. She hurried to the bedside and knelt on the ground. Reaching underneath, her fingers touched a small, wooden box. She pulled it out and selected a bandage.

“Water?” She glanced around the room but didn’t see any.

“There’s a well outside. I’ll get it.” He left, locking the door behind him. She frowned—did he know that she was planning to run away?

She took a deep breath. The scent of mouldy, uncared-for turf filled her senses and for a moment she couldn’t draw a new breath. She wanted to follow him outside and feel the fresh air on her face. To feel free.

Frea closed her eyes, listening closely. The distant sound of waves smashing against the cliffs filtered in under the crack beneath the door. She loved the ocean, even in Ireland, she’d lived by the water. It was vast and beautiful. It cared nothing for her, but the ocean cared about nobody. Maybe that’s why she loved it so much—no favouritism, no slaves and no mistreatment. Just water and waves and beauty. And freedom.

The door opened, and Esben returned, carrying a bucket half full of icy water. He put it on the ground and sunk onto the edge of the bed.

She knelt at his side, but he pulled her up beside him. “You’re living in luxury now. No more work for you.”

She imagined the huge warrior leaning over the fire, stirring the stew pot and it was such a conflicting view she smiled. “So you’ll be cooking my breakfast?”

He laughed and the sound was strong but quiet. “I guess. I certainly don’t think we can tempt Dalla back here to do it for us, not after the way I treated her.”

Frea dipped a washcloth into the water, the cold stiffening her fingers. Dalla had probably never cooked anything in her life. She had many of her own slaves, although none of them were treated half as kindly as Alf had treated Frea. “Alf could never stand her,” she said, dabbing the cloth on Esben’s palm, gently washing away the blood. “Whenever she came visiting Gerd, he’d hide and get me to say he wasn’t home.” She shrugged. “Dalla always knew I was lying.”

“I kind of got the impression she hated you.” Esben gently nudged Frea with his elbow.

She stiffened. “It’s not that. I...” Her voice faded. A new tension filled the room and their moment of shared companionship faded too.

He rubbed a finger along the neckline of his leather armour, remembering. When he’d returned to the settlement seeking food for Frea, he’d met Bersi again. The older man had appeared from behind a building as thought he’d been waiting for Esben to return.

“You can’t trust her,” Bersi had called.

Esben halted. “Are you talking to me?” He’d raised his eyebrows, staring down at Bersi. The man disgusted him. He was a weasel who spent his life trying to avoid a day’s work. He was also Dalla’s mouthpiece whenever she wanted to intimidate or punish.

“Nobody knows where she came from,” Bersi continued.

“What do you mean? She’s a Celtic thrall. She came from out there.” He pointed towards the ocean.

“You don’t know.” Bersi smirked, drawing out the words as if enjoying the power a little knowledge gave. “Neinn, of course not. It was about a month after your father died and you’d left for your first raiding season.”

Esben ground his teeth, clenching his jaw as an inkling of the truth tickled his mind. If the raiding party had been at sea when Frea arrived then who had brought her to the settlement? He shook his head, dismissing the accusations. Alf could have easily traded for her, or maybe she’d been captured during a local war with another settlement. He side-stepped Bersi and headed down an alley between two houses.

“You must have heard the rumours,” called Bersi after him.

“Must I have?” Esben kept walking, but slowed his pace. The weasel obviously thought the information was worth something. “Get on with it then.”

“I’m not sure—”

Esben turned and withdrew his battle-axe in one smooth move. “Perhaps we’d better continue this discussion in a more civilised manner.”

Bersi touched a hand to the hilt of his sword, his eyes wearily taking in the largeness of Esben’s weapon. He was out matched and they both knew it.

He raised his hands to show he held no weapon but his eyes sparkled. “Nobody really knows the whole story, but I gather she arrived in the middle of the night, barely a scrape of clothing on her, and by morning Alf had welcomed her as his own household thrall.”

“It was dark magic,” said Dalla. She’d appeared as if from nowhere. “She’s a seiðr.” Sorceress.

The word seemed to reverberate around Esben’s mind. He blinked, pulling himself from the memory. Frea still held his hand in one of hers and he longed to pull it from her grasp, but she was wrapping a bandage around his hand, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in concentration.

He signed. What was he thinking? Bersi was an idiot and Dalla was power hungry. Until he saw actual proof of Frea’s supernatural abilities, he was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. He owed her that much, she was about to be sacrificed.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, leaning against the wall. It had been a long time since he’d slept in this bed. Hell with that, it had been a long time since he’d slept in any bed. He loved his life on the ocean but the bow of a longship wasn’t the same as a mattress. He peaked through his lashes, contemplating the roof. If he could remove the turf it would bring the outdoors in and he could experience the best of both worlds.

Then everyone really would think he was mad, just like this mother.

Frea’s hands tickled the sensitive skin along the inside of his wrist and his breath caught. It had been a long time since he’s sat beside a woman. A flush of heat flooded his blood, sending his heart pounding.

He wriggled on the bed, suddenly uncomfortable, then opened his eyes to stare down at her. Frea had no idea what she was doing to him, she was completely absorbed in her work and for the first time she seemed to have momentarily forgotten her predicament.

Bersi might be an idiot but he’d been right about one thing. Esben didn’t really know anything about Frea. She’d arrived in the village after he was at sea and they’d barely spoken on his return visits.

He studied the lines of her face, marvelling at the fact that he’d never really looked at her before. How could he have missed such a beauty? Her hair was dark, like most people of Celtic heritage, but her eyes were big and green, almost hazel. She blinked, and her long, black eyelashes flickered. The heat from the fire had caused a light flush to colour her face in a rose gold glow. He swallowed audibly as his eyes were drawn to the collar of her woollen kirtle. Her sleeve had slipped to the side, revealing a slither of creamy white shoulder. But then the fire spluttered and the light caught the hollows in her cheeks. She was too skinny, he realised, too under-fed.

As though she’d read his thoughts, she looked up and caught sight of his stare. He couldn’t look away and the shadow of a smile crossed her lips. That fleeting movement gave him a glimpse of the woman she must have been before the sea-warriors snatched her away. Considerate. Passionate. Feisty. Beautiful. Extremely beautiful. His mouth went dry and he lent in closer, his face almost touching hers. There was a small indent on her temple, about the size of freckle although it was more like a burn and dangerously close to her eye. Had she been injured when Alf had caught fire?

He brushed the imperfection with his fingertip, revelling in the silky-softness of her skin. She froze, but didn’t pull back. Unable to help himself, he lent in and touched his lips to the corner of her eye.

Her lashes fluttered, and it was like the kiss of an otherworldly being. She could have been a decent of the gods.

“Freyja,” he murmured against her cheek, trailing kisses down her jawline.

She seemed to melt into his touch and she pushed her cheek more firmly against his mouth. He smiled against her skin, lightening his touch, teasing her into submission.

“I’m not sure—” She suddenly pulled back, her face reddening. “We shouldn’t... I shouldn’t have—” She scrambled to her feet, moving to the far side of the room. Just as Frea had begun to show her wild, fiery side, she’d withdrawn.

Suddenly, he furrowed his brow. What was he thinking? He was supposed to be acting as her protector, not seducer. There wouldn’t be a next time. There couldn’t be.

“Bersi seems very friendly with Dalla these days,” he commented, trying to change to the subject to safer ground.

“He’s part of Alf’s inner circle.” She swallowed. “Was part of.”

“Bersi?” he spluttered. Alf had distrusted Bersi as much as Esben did. “When did that happen?”

“Right after the fire. He made the announcement a few weeks ago. Everyone was pretty surprised, except for maybe Dalla. Bersi’s her sister’s son, or something. Everyone seems to think she persuaded Alf to promote Bersi.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

She looked up at him, surprise written across her face. “I guess. Although...it was very sudden. And like I told you, Alf hated Dalla, he hardly talked to her so I don’t know when she had the time to convince him. My lord.” She added.

Esben tapped the head of his battle-axe. It didn’t make any sense. What had Alf been trying to accomplish? Bersi was a useless warrior and by no means an ideal confidant, so Alf must have been appealing to Dalla, for whatever reason.

He narrowed his eyes, examining Frea but she didn’t seem to be keeping anything back from him. Whatever Alf had been up to, he’d kept it to himself.

He tapped faster, beating out an uneven rhythm. Death was no mystery to the sea-warriors, everyone had experienced it one way or another, but he couldn’t help wishing Alf hadn’t died. There was so many things he wanted to ask about Bersi and Dalla. And Frea. Where had she come from? Why was she so timid when it was obviously not in her nature?

He sighed. It was more than that. Alf had been the one person Esben had trusted completely since his father’s death, and Alf had trusted him in return, despite the rumours of his mother’s illness.

When Alf’s older brother had been killed and Alf was promoted to chief of the settlement, he’d given Esben command of the raiding fleet. Even though Esben was seven winters Alf’s junior and had been one of the youngest and least experienced warriors, Alf had seen something in him worth believing in.

He rose, stripped off his weapons' belt and locked it in the trunk. Now Alf was gone the least he could do was keep his word. He’s sworn to protect Frea and he would, until the day of the funeral.

“Here,” he said, motioning for her closer. “You take the bed.”

“I...” She glanced out the window, staring up at the rising moon as though surprised night had fallen already.

Was she scared of him? Did she think him such a barbarian? He wanted to curse. “I’ll sleep in the chair,” he confirmed.

He sat and Frea approached. She hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ten winters, her position in Alf’s household hadn’t granted her that particular luxury.

She peaked at Esben, his eyes were closed and his head was tipped back against the headrest. One thing she’d learnt over the winters was that Norsemen could sleep through anything and at anytime. They probably had a lot of practice spending so much time at sea.

Quickly, she striped to her shift and folded her woollen kirtle. Leaving it at the foot of the bed, Frea climbed under the reindeer skins. Even under the covers, she felt exposed without her clothes but it was the only dress she owned and she wanted to preserve it for as long as possible. Slaves weren’t often given new clothes and if they got frost-bit during winter... Well, that was their own problem.

Alf had protected her from the worst of the cold, but new clothes each season was another luxury she hadn’t been allowed to indulge in. In some aspects, she really was not different from all the other slaves.

Still, they’d always resented her special treatment. They were all probably relishing in her death. A few days’ rest and strong drink didn’t make up for the fact that she was going to be killed.

She closed her eyes, but even in the darkness of her lids she could still see the locked door, barring her from freedom. Did Esben know what he was doing? Surely he could see her desire to live shining from her face each time he looked at her. Maybe not, she panicked. There was a small part of her that wanted to follow Alf, whatever the death journey might bring, whether it be Christian Heaven or Viking Valhalla, what greater gift could there be?

Frea, Alf would have warned if he could have heard her thoughts. You have a life of your own. Live it.

And she drifted into sleep.

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