#night so now we have no flatbread and I had to run back there and put them in the warming drawer to defrost and we lost an order bc I had

[blackknight-100]

AU: Abhimanyu does not die: Fic II (kind of happy-ending?)

I'm not very sure what is happening here, so if the text looks weird, please forgive the formatting. Part I here.

1. Karna taps insistently on the side of Duryodhana’s chariot as Arjuna's son and – Surya curse them all – his nephew, barges into the chakravyuha.

“What?” Duryodhana snaps. “The boy!” Karna hisses back, just as waspish. “We can capture the boy and bargain with the Pandavas.” Duryodhana turns to him and sneers. “And why should I bargain with my dearest cousins? My army is greater, my commanders wiser, and my victory undoubted. I will not grovel before them.” Karna takes one deep breath, then another. ‘Calm now,’ he tells himself, ‘speak not thoughtlessly.’ “You have far more chance of winning than they do,” he acknowledges, after he is certain he will not lash out. “But war is unpredictable. And they will go down fighting. They will kill at least several of your peoples – your brothers, teacher, uncle and their sons. Even Lakshmana. We can avoid that and win just by taking Abhimanyu captive.” Duryodhana blinks thoughtfully at the young warrior who has, by now, lost his chariot. Kumara is running towards him, whether it is to fight or to catch up with him no one knows. Karna sighs ruefully. “Lakshmana,” he calls, “come here, child.” Kumara breaks course and comes over to him. Surya knows, Karna loves this boy. Duryodhana stares intensely at them, then turns to Guru Drona and commands, “Take the boy captive.”

2. It takes them half a day, and eight tested warriors to take down Abhimanyu. Karna looks at the spitfire youth and feels something that is not quite pride, but close enough. Jayadrath has miraculously managed to keep the Pandava brothers at bay, but he has also forgotten to let Yudhisthir in – and he gets a long tongue-lashing from Guru Drona when he reappears. ‘Yudhisthir would have made a strategically better captive,’ Karna reflects, when he settles down to guard Abhimanyu for the first prahar of the night. ‘At the very least, he would be less troublesome.’ For Abhimanyu had not ceased his rebellion when they had come off the field. As soon as he realised that they were taking him captive, he started trying to kill himself – first with a small blade hidden on his person, next by strangling himself with the tent rope, and finally by trying to hold his breath. It is as difficult a task to keep him alive as it was to capture him. After their paltry meal of rationed flatbread and pickle, Duryodhana sends an emissary to the Pandava camp. They return half a prahar later, and report that the Pandavas are willing to bargain. “They weren’t going to,” the messenger says, “but the Lady Draupadi refused to see her son dead, and Dwarkadheesh said that further war would not be in their favour.” Duryodhana smiles grimly, vindicated.

3. The first day of negotiation dawns cloudy and dull. Karna – who has no intention of ever being in the same room as Kunti again – volunteers to look after their charge. Duryodhana does not protest, but gives him a sharp look that makes it abundantly clear that they are going to talk about it later. Karna sighs. Abhimanyu is not a bad captive as long as he is not trying to send himself to an early pyre. He does not taunt unless taunted, and usually listens to whatever is asked of him, provided it is sensible. Karna gets bored of poking at him before the hour runs out. He is almost glad when Duryodhana rushes in a prahar later, seething with rage, until he realises he is coming for him. His friend hauls him up and off his feet by his shoulder, slams him against the tent pole (which shudders dangerously) and wraps two hands around his throat before he can even open his mouth. “Wha-" he begins, but Duryodhana shakes him by the neck, hard, and he falls quiet again. “When were you going to tell me?” Duryodhana demands, face close to his own. “Were you going to tell me at all?” “Tell you what?” Karna asks, concerned. He is not particularly afraid of Duryodhana, even now, but it is unlike his friend to throttle him, and alarm bells start ringing in his head. “DO NOT ACT INNOCENT,” he roars, “you… you…” Duryodhana flounders, and Karna? Karna knows. He feels something startlingly like betrayal. “The Dowager Empress said she wouldn’t tell,” he whispers, and Duryodhana shakes him even harder. “She didn’t,” Duryodhana says bitterly. “She got Uncle Vidura to do it.” ‘Of course,’ he thinks with a sinking heart, ‘of course.’

+1. Duryodhana comes to visit him on the second day of his… captivity? He is in a huge room in the guest wing of the Hastinapur palace, and while no one has told him he could not leave, Karna thought it was rather obvious. Duryodhana stands at the threshold and stares at him. Karna stares back wearily, thinks about his wife and sons, and prays for them. “Do you know what happened?” Duryodhana asks, almost kindly, and Karna shakes his head. “We were discussing about their surrender,” he tells him, moving forward to take a seat on the couch. “I said they had to go back to the forest, or some other place, that I would provide residence as long as they swore oaths to cease stirring up trouble for me. Bheema said he would rather fulfill his oath of breaking my thigh, and Aunt Kunti said she was unwilling to see anyone but the rightful king on the throne. I told her I was the rightful king. Uncle Vidura told us that you were.” Karna stares at him after the speech, watches as he picks a thread on couch-cushion. “I’m not,” he says. “Emperor Pandu could not have known of my existence, and Adhirath baba adopted me in all ceremony. I am no Kuru.” “And is Aunt Kunti not your mother?” Karna doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says instead, “Radha maa is my mother.” Duryodhana shakes his head wryly. “You did not tell me. They said you knew before the war. You made me look like a fool, Karna.” Karna’s eyes burn – 'so stupid'. “I didn’t think I needed to. You didn’t care before. I wanted to see you on the throne, and no matter what you think, I wasn’t going to betray you. I don’t want to be king of anything beyond what you have already given me.” “I know,” Duryodhana says, softer. He gets up from the couch, walks over to where Karna sits on the bed. “I’m giving back Indraprastha to the Pandavas, with the condition that Vrishsena becomes king after Yudhisthir.” Karna gapes foolishly at him. “What?” Duryodhana laughs. “You think I will let my enemies rule the neighbouring kingdom for generations? Pfft. Vrish is in our team, and their nephew. Let them put him there.” “You…” Karna begins, but then words fail him. Duryodhana rolls his eyes and tugs on his hand. “Come cousin,” he teases, “let’s go and put some ice on the bruises on your neck, and then you can go tell your brothers what we discussed.” Karna gets up, and follows him outside.

#mahabharat #hindu mythology #mahabharata #karna #kauravas #duryodhana #duryodhan #abhimanyu #gratuitous karna duryodhana content #friendship #3+1 #3+1 fics #boo writes #written for an ask

[a-krogan-skald-and-bearsark]

People you want to know more about

So I was tagged in this AGES back by @temerairemybeloved, but it is a thing known that I am shit at remembering to do these things, and also I have been much boat of late.

I'm tagging @sweetroll-stolen, @the-odd-aardvadillo, @eiriee and @gumshoesniper

no worries if you never get around it. Took me long enough.

favourite colour: Green. really bright deep green. The shade of green the Scottish Baronial Guard of Historia Normannis used to use, back in the days I was one of them (They might still use it, but they’ve changed the heraldry at least once since then)

favourite food: I really like these sort of square flatbread pizzas I get at my local grocery store. Either the barbecue chicken and caramelized onion on or the cherry tomato and arugula one.

song stuck in your head: The most recent one was “The Old Black Rum” by Great Big Sea. Has a hold on me, like a dog wrapped round my leg. They was playing it in the restuarant I went to for supper last night.

last thing you googled: Sarna. I was trying to get to the battletech wiki but hit enter before I’d typed in the dot com so it googled the damn thing.

time: I’m partial to dusk. And also the 9th to 12th centuries. 

dream trip: I would start in Nuuk, Greenland. From there I would travel, ideally by boat, to Reykjavik, Iceland, then Orkney by way of the Faroes and Shetland. A walking tour down the west coast of Scotland and into Wales, with a visit to Inis Mona, Anglesey if you’re wanting to use the English word for it. From there, to Norway, Birka in Finland, and thence to Estonia where it’s a river cruise down the Dneipr and Volga rivers until we reach Constantinopolis. Istanbul if you’re willing to admit the last 600 years have happened. I blame the White Crow of Hungary. 

last book you read: There was a novella in the latest episode of Shrapnel, the battletech fic magazine. If we’re not counting that or fanfic, Trollslayer by William King

last book you enjoyed reading: Trollslayer by William King. It’s definitely pulp, but pulp has it’s place.

last book you hated reading: If I don’t like a book, I don’t finish it. This has been my policy since I finished education and people could not make me read books any more. So, it was probably Orwell. Either Animal Farm or 1984. If I want to be depressed I’ll go read the news. Reading fiction I do for fun.

favourite thing to cook/bake: I don’t do much baking these days. I like cooking seafood. I work on fishing boats, so folks are always giving me recipes.

favourite craft to do in your spare time: I'm more a “I do the craft for the end result” type guy. I paint tabletop wargaming figures. I do a bit of leatherwork and am trying to teach myself tanning.

most niche dislike: IT WOULDN’T BE FUCKING ISTANBUL IF THE DAMNED WHITE CROW HAD BACKED VLAD TEPES LIKE HE PROMISED INSTEAD OF BUYING HIS FUCKING CROWN BACK OUT OF HOCK.

opinion on circuses now and in history: They used to be exploitative and inhumane. It’s my understanding not much has changed.

do you have a sense of direction and if not what's the worst way you got lost: debatable. I will tell people I have a great sense of direction. I define this as always knowing where I am in relation to where I want to be. Whether or not I know the way to get there is a whole other thing. This is how what should have been a thirty minute hike along the trail turned into two hours of trekking across the moors once. Because I’d decided to go off-trail and run along a ridgeline for a few hundred yards, and EVERYBODY FOLLOWED ME.

And I was the only one physically fit enough to get down without turning back. Well. @eiriee and Tom might have managed it. But everyone else would have fallen to their doom, or at least minor injury. So I figured we’d just go round rather than going back. Woops.

[manonblaqkbeak]

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work #thank u!!

[xpeachesncream]

could i ask a request? an aiko drabbles of she seeing reader and taehyung together. please? thank you!

perfectly wrong | drabble [9]: when you and taehyung run into aiko at the movies and she’s still bitter.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, miss sassy pants y/n and we love to see it cause tae can handle his baby

"Tae!" You laughed loudly as he carried you on his back, galloping like a mad man as you both made your way from the garage to the movie theater.

"I told you it was faster that way." You drop down from his back as you both come into full view of the theater box office.

"Look at you, all tired and shit now."

"I don't know why you're complaining when you didn't have to do any work, missy." You laugh as you playfully shove him to the side. Tonight, you and Taehyung decided last minute that you both wanted to head out and watch a late night movie at the new fancy theater nearby. This new and fancy theater was the kind of movie theater that served you food and drinks right at your seat, with the added bonus of comfy, reclining chairs.

The sweet, sweet life.

"What do you wanna watch?" Taehyung's puppy eyes are glued to the board with all the movies and times listed. There was a good mix of new and older movies showing.

"Moana." His lips are sealed into a fine, thin line.

"What do you actually wanna watch?"

"Did I not just name a movie?"

"Rise of Skywalker? Nice!" He says, raising his hand for you to high-five. You return the high-five simply because he was your boyfriend, but you continued to shake your head.

"Let's watch Knives Out." He nods in agreement.

"Actually, I'm down for that one. I'm a fan of Chris Evans." You laugh.

"Yeah, same." He looks at you with a blank expression.

"Mm, actually nevermind." You playfully hit him as he realizes that you'd be gushing over Chris Evans during the entire movie.

"Oh quit, I'm obviously not the only one who'll be gushing over him."

"Look young lady, if I hear one word about how big his muscles are, you're leaving and I'm staying." You laugh.

"Go buy the tickets, Taehyung." You stand aside, waiting for Taehyung to buy the movie tickets. The theater wasn't too crowded, either because it was still too new or because it was a little later in the evening than most people would like - either way, you were okay with it. You didn't have to talk to people from campus or run into anyone you or Taehyung knew.

Except, you realize you've spoken too soon when you look around and realize who's standing a couple of feet away from you.

Aiko.

She's standing around with two other friends, but it looks like she had spotted you before you spotted her. She's keeping her gaze on you as she talks to her friend, her friend trying to slyly look back at you but failing miserably.

Girl, I really wish you would try me.

You for sure haven't forgotten the way she came at you during Jin's party, like you were the sole reason as to why her world came crumbling down on her.

"Uh?" Taehyung furrows his brows as he holds out the tickets. "Babe, you alright? Why do you look so annoyed?"

"Ohhhh, it's nothing." You smile through the annoyance she had brought onto you.

"Funny that you think I don't know you well enough." He turns to follow your gaze, watching Aiko start to strut her way over. He sighs when he returns his attention to you and squeezes your hand to try and relax you. "Come, let's just go inside."

"Hey guys, nice seeing you two here." Aiko says, batting her eyelashes at you and Taehyung innocently.

"Uh, hey." He turns to you. "Y/N? Let's go."

"Aiko." You flatly greet her.

"Happy to see it's actually working out between you two."

"Thanks." You copy her tone and scrunch your nose, hoping she'd catch on to the attitude making its way through. Honestly, Aiko was still bitter about how things went down. She's bitter because for awhile, Taehyung made it seem like she was the one who could change him. He made it seem like she was the one he was dropping all his stupid games for. She thought this was going to her. That's why she was so quick to leave Jin because Taehyung was so fucking good at woo'ing her and making her fall head over heels for him. Just down to the way he touched her and fucked her. The familiar, over-used sweet nothings he'd tell her.

Aiko's bitter. She's triggered. She really hates the fact that she had to run into you both, together.

Yeah, and you hate thinking about it. You hate thinking about the time your man had spent with her and what that was possibly like.

It made your skin crawl.

"Y/N, the movie." Taehyung says, no longer saying another word to Aiko. They were treating each other like long time exes, almost like how he was with Hana. Maybe this was just Taehyung's way of pushing people out when he didn't know how to deal.

"Okay." You respond as you give Aiko one last look before you and Taehyung are walking off to head inside.

"You know you don't need to be like that right?"

"Like what?"

"Little miss sassy pants."

"She didn't have to say anything in the first place. No one was looking for her." You looked at him, confused. Truly. Why did she have to look at you like that? Why did she have to talk to you to her friends like that? Girl, you don't know me. This was not your problem to deal with.

"Baby." Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. He wasn't even surprised, he knew you always had this fire in you and there was really no way to put it out. "Not even worth the energy." He grabs your hand and leads the way to the theater.

As you both sit down and take a look at the menu to order some things, Taehyung leaves you alone for a second to use the bathroom. You were texting your friends when you had seen Taehyung's phone light up next to you. Typically, you don't really care what's going on in Taehyung's phone. You weren't that girl. However, your eyes drifted towards the screen for a quick second only to see a Snapchat notification from Aiko and a text.

You didn't even know he still had her name in the books like that.

"Baby, the bathrooms here are—" He proceeds to sign chef's kiss, but then realizes you were just staring at him. "Huh? What is it?" He looks down at his phone and checks the screen.

"I didn't even know you had her number still."

"I wasn't gonna go out of my way to delete it." He catches himself. "Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, after everything happened, it wasn't necessarily first on my list." You understood what he was saying but you just shrugged it off anyway.

"This must be important, being that she was just mad as fuck at you." He sighs and quickly opens the app to check the snap with you. He presses the notification, only to show her in a very seductive selfie photo. Cleavage in full view, biting onto a finger and hair all arranged to look semi-messy?

"Beats me." He lets go of the box to remove the snap. "I just feel like things could have worked out better if we had a proper conversation." He reads her text out loud.

"She really wants you." He swipes left to delete the text from his inbox before smirking at you and putting you in a gentle headlock.

"Mm, but I want this lady right here." You giggle as he showers your face with tons of kisses. He had let you free once he realized the flatbread you ordered was coming your way. He clapped happily and began to dig in.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Whatever you want, love."

"Were you really interested in her?" He shrugged.

"For a minute, I really didn't think I would be able to work things out with you. I really, really wanted to be with you before Aiko even came in the picture, but I was scared and the whole thing with Jungkook at the time was making it hard for me." You nodded.

"I'm just curious."

"So, I guess that's why she's mad. I kind of did give her that false hope." He chuckles. "But also, I mean, it's me."

"Taehyung, shut the hell up. You caused so many issues." You chuckled as you bit into your flatbread piece.

"Yesssss and I apologized, right?" He elongates his yes. You simply nod and take a sip of your cocktail. "Okay, then all is well. We're past this and she isn't in the picture. You are." He was right, there was really no use of being bitter or getting sassy about it. No matter what Aiko tried to do or say, he wasn't here with her. It was you.

Aiko was just gonna have to deal.

A couple of days later, you were working a shift at Jin's café with Jungkook. It hadn't been too busy, but there was a moment where things picked up and all three of you were busting your ass to get orders out. As time went out and things settled, Jin was able to fix whatever he needed to in the kitchen, while you and Jungkook held the fort down at the front.

"Who uses snapchat anymore?" Jin comes out of the kitchen, fiddling on his phone.

"Why?" You and Jungkook were rearranging the pastries.

"Aiko sent me a snapchat."

"Funny, she sent Taehyung one a couple of days ago when we ran into her at the movies."

"You ran into her?" Jungkook asks, taking the tongs out of your hands. "How'd that go?"

"Kind of awkward? She came up to us out of nowhere just to be like waaaaow so happy it's working out between you two." You mocked her tone again.

"At least she said she's happy about it." Jin joked in typical Jin fashion.

"What's the snap she sent you?" Jin presses down on the box to show the same exact photo she had sent Taehyung.

"Yah! Look!" Jin laughed, Jungkook going around to look over his shoulder.

"She has nice boobies."

"Oy! Inappropriate!" You bop Jungkook on the head before quickly leaning over and taking a look again. "She sent the same one to Tae."

"Should I send her the eyes?"

"No, no. Don't. Send her a thumbs up since that's all you ever send people." Jin and Jungkook start cracking up, making you walk away from their chaos.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong #perfectly wrong drabbles #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff

[jaxsteamblog]

Cherry Blossoms

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

For dinner, the family stayed in the large estate near to the village. The festival had attracted the Air Nomads for years, and this time they brought along the workers from the oilrig for a well-earned reprieve. All that meant Katara and Zuko couldn’t always be out in public or else they’d be swarmed.

And Katara wasn’t keen on getting attacked or kidnapped again, especially when she was in such a good mood.

“So what do you think of the festivities, Zuko?” Malina asked as she and Hakoda brought out large platters of food. Sokka followed after them with a covered tureen that still couldn’t contain the smell of seaprune stew.

“It’s been amazing. I have a weakness for festivals like this though.” Zuko replied.

“The kind that won’t piss off the spirits if you do them wrong, you mean?” Sokka asked, setting the tureen down on the table.

Katara leaned over and plucked off the lid, breathing in the steam. It smelled right for once.

“Who made this?” She asked, looking around. Hakoda opened his mouth but, looking past her, quickly shut it.

“It’s Gran-Gran’s recipe, Kat. Don’t worry.” Sokka interjected, picking up a ladle and slopping a generous scoop into a bowl. She narrowed her eyes at him but took it.

“Do you have a favorite festival?” Suki asked.

“Does it have to be Fire Nation?” Zuko asked in return.

“No?” Suki looked confused and Zuko leaned over to look in Katara’s bowl.

“I only ask because my favorite is an Earth Kingdom one. But I do have one I like a lot in Caldera.” He said and started pulling the bowl. Katara shoved it over and returned to the tureen.

“Let’s hear the favorite.” Suki said.

“I can’t remember what it’s called because I only got to see it when I was a kid.” Zuko started, picking up a spoon. “I must’ve been really young because my cousin was…”

Zuko smiled sadly and focused on the seaprune stew.

“Anyway, my mother had taken Azula and I to visit my uncle and a festival was going on when we got there. My cousin took my sister and I out to attend, and it was a lot of fun. The cherry blossoms were in peak bloom and there were picnics and tea; I knew it was probably my uncle’s favorite festival too.

“But at night, the town had set up these lights under the trees and you could walk around this garden looking at them. When the sun had fully set, other lights went on and they made sculptures with them. It blew my tiny little mind.” Zuko explained.

“So, a colony.” Hakoda said.

Katara sat up, but Zuko nodded.

“Yes.” He answered and looked back at Hakoda.

“I think,” Malina said slowly, resting her hand on Hakoda’s arm. “We can all appreciate what Zuko went through to end up here with us.”

Hakoda looked at Katara’s face and grumbled.

“My favorite is Avatar Day.” Suki stated, loudly clattering food onto a plate. Katara relaxed, rolling her eyes.

“We’re lucky Thuy’s not here.” Zuko said.

“That’d only be a problem if Katara said it was her favorite.” Sokka corrected.

“Oh for sure.” Suki said, drawing out her accent for effect. “Zuko can never leave Katara or else Thuy will smack him down.”

“Like she did his dad.” Sokka quipped and Zuko burst with a laugh.

“What’s your favorite festival, Sokka?” Malina asked.

“Love Day.” Suki and Katara shouted together and started laughing. Sokka groaned with loud exaggeration and Malina laughed lightly.

“I don’t like most festivals if they have fireworks. Those bug me.” He did say, tearing his flatbread into shreds.

“I like the solstice stuff. I get a kick out of how serious everyone gets when in reality they’re talking about Yue and my bratty sister.” He said finally and Katara launched a seaprune at him.

“What about you, Malina? Hakoda?” Zuko asked.

“Anything with good food is the best in my opinion.” Hakoda answered gruffly.

“Mine is similar to Zuko’s, actually. But I lived in the northern part of the Earth Empire and I think what you were talking about is in the south.” Malina said.

“Cherry blossoms bloom all the way up there?” Zuko questioned.

“Not natively, but for a long time the trees were a common gift the kings would send to each other. You can find them dotted all over capitals but only in the south are they everywhere.” Malina explained.

“They’re really something.” Zuko said.

“Oh yes. They reminded me of the North Pole, or at least, how my parents talked about the North Pole.” Malina said in a rush.

“Flowers?” Zuko asked.

“What about them?” Sokka snapped.

“How are they at all like the North Pole?” Zuko asked, bewildered.

Sokka looked over and met Malina’s eye, making Katara frown.

“I mean, have you actually looked at snow?” Sokka asked, turning to Zuko.

“You are clearly Piandao’s favorite.” Zuko murmured and Sokka scoffed.

“My parents would always talk about the North Pole when it snowed. Maliq and I would go crazy seeing how little it snowed inside Ba Sing Se, and how quickly the snowplows would come through.” Malina laughed and tapped Hakoda’s arm. “We were not prepared for coming back home.”

“Did you know that some places pickle cherry blossoms and make tea out of it?” Sokka asked and Zuko choked on his soup.

“Oh spirits what.” Sokka croaked.

Katara patted Zuko’s back and shrugged.

“Apparently it’s a wedding sort of tea and Iroh gave it to Zuko and me a while back.” She said.

“I was trying so hard not throw myself at you at that point too.” Zuko said, wiping his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Hakoda interrupted sharply and Malina snorted.

“Well, turns out you’re married by swamp standards so we should probably go pick up some more.” Sokka said.

“Excuse me?” Hakoda repeated.

“We have to get married before them, really.” Suki said, looking at Sokka.

“We should probably elope then, because at this rate they’ll be married twice over.” He said.

“Now hold on…” Hakoda leaned over the table and Zuko put his arm around Katara.

“We’re going backwards through the Avatar cycle. We just have to figure out which temple Aang was born at so we can get hitched there.” He said.

“No.” Hakoda said firmly, and everyone turned to him. “Both of my children are getting married in the South Pole.”

“Dad, we were just kidding.” Sokka said.

Hakoda sighed and leaned back.

“I know.” He said.

“And Suki and I are getting married in Kyoshi.” Sokka added.

Hakoda sputtered and even Katara turned to stare at Sokka. Her brother took Suki’s hand and stared down at their rings.

“I hate being in the Poles.” He said softly.

“What?” Hakoda and Katara shouted.

“O-kay.” Zuko stood up, jostling the table. “I’m taking Sokka to show me the penguins.”

“I can fight my own battles!” Sokka protested, but Suki also stood and the two of them grabbed either of his shoulders.

“I love you man, but I am trying to keep my future wife and father-in-law from hating my guts.” Zuko muttered as he and Suki started dragging him out of the room.

“That’s not my problem! Hey wait the stairs guys wai-” Sokka’s voice was cut off by the sound of chaotic thudding.

“So, Katara, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Malina asked.

Katara lowered her face into her hands and groaned.

~

“Cherry blossoms, huh?” Katara asked, laying on her back and looking up at Zuko.

Zuko’s long hair acted like a curtain as he propped himself over her. He was doing what he normally did when they were able to sleep together; trying to see which parts of her were ticklish as he lightly kissed her.

“They’re pretty.” He said with his lips against her shoulder.

“And very dainty.” Katara added.

“I’m not in love with cherry blossoms, Katara.” Zuko murmured, moving down to her collarbone.

“I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying. Though it would be nice to see you in a bath with some cherry blossoms. Seeing them stick to your skin.” Zuko laid himself on her and went back to her neck. “Mmmmm.”

“You just constantly run hot don’t you?” Katara said with a laugh threading through her words.

“You should have seen me as a young man.” Zuko said, pushing himself up to look directly at her. “And when I was plagued with thoughts of a very mysterious spirit.”

“You’re still a young man.” Katara retorted, putting her hands on his chest.

“Did you ever think of me?” Zuko asked.

“The Blue Spirit?”

“Yeah.”

Katara paused then, trying to recollect. Her memory was shoddy at best, and some events were warped by time and trauma.

She remembered her first kiss with Haru before staging a prison break to rescue his father. She remembered seeing Yue in the moonlight and knew love and heartbreak in the same moment as she saw Sokka’s face. She remembered digging her nails into Jet as if she could mold him into something else.

And she remembered the vigilante that she could never figure out.

“I used to dream about running into you over and over again in the war. We’d fight the same villains, we’d tease each other because we are always suspicious, and you would unmask yourself while proclaiming your eternal love for me.” Katara said.

“Funny, I always imagined the same thing.” Zuko said.

“I would never have unmasked.” Katara scoffed.

“There’d be no need.” Zuko said with a smile and then lowered himself again. “I told you that you sweat your stripes off.”

“Zuko!”

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #the fic that prompts built #zutara month 2021

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Fourteen

Link to Masterpost

Another day, another chapter! These words have been fighting to get onto the page for so long they’re just flying by now that it’s their time. I hope you enjoy.

~*~*~

“So, let me get this straight,” Aedion drawled as he watched Whitethorn pace around the room.

He had to fight a grin as the warrior growled. “What could possibly be so difficult for you to comprehend?”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that you visited my cousin in the night, knowing full well she had already promised herself to someone else.” He knew, of course, that Aelin had ended things with Dorian weeks ago, but watching the color leave Whitethorn’s face was well worth the lie of omission. Before the warrior could say anything in his defense, Aedion carried on. “You have some sort of interaction with her you won’t discuss further. You leave in a hurry, but return to her room later, and she and her belongings have mysteriously vanished.”

“Yes,” Whitethorn snarled.

Aedion bit back a laugh as he watched Whitethorn resume his pacing. “And what, precisely, do you intend for me to do about it? Sounds to me like you’ve created this situation yourself.”

“You’re being too hard on him,” Lysandra called from the next room.

“Am I? He’s admitted to having some sort of late night encounter with my dear cousin, and botching it to the point that she runs away. I don’t think I’m being too hard at all.”

Whitethorn growled at him, exposing elongated canines before opening his mouth to speak, but Aedion simply lifted a hand to demand his silence. “Luckily for you,” he continued, “I have information that you don’t.”

He finally laughed as he watched the warrior freeze. “What information?”

“It doesn’t feel nearly as good to be the one without all the details, does it?” Aedion grinned.

“Play nicely!” called Lysandra.

Aedion sighed and shook his head. “First of all,” he revealed, “I know that Aelin ended things with Dorian almost three weeks ago now. The prince is due to make it public today.”

Whitethorn’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“She did. I’m not certain why she didn’t see fit to tell you, other than the fact that she’s been complaining to my mate about you avoiding her.” A pointed accusation to be sure, but Aedion had to admit he wasn’t feeling especially generous. They had bonded to an extent, certainly, but the male in front of him had just admitted to hurting his beloved cousin. He wasn’t going to make it easy for him to win back her affections.

The guilt that crossed Whitethorn’s face brought him some satisfaction in that regard. “I had orders, though that isn’t much of an excuse.”

“The second thing I know,” Aedion said instead of directly addressing the remark, “is that Aelin never intended to marry Dorian in the first place, nor he her.”

That particular fact wasn’t especially relevant to the current situation, but Aedion had to admit he was reveling in seeing such shock on Whitethorn’s face. It wasn’t every day that someone got to surprise a centuries-old blood-sworn fighter of Queen Maeve’s, after all.

Whitethorn’s shock faded to a contemplative frown, and Aedion knew the warrior would be piecing together any evidence he happened to have witnessed. Before he could get too far, though, Aedion had one final piece of information to reveal. “The final piece of information I have and you don’t is Aelin’s current location.”

Green eyes turned to him in a fierce glare. “You’ve known where she was this entire time,” he growled.

“Yes,” he admitted. “And my task was to stall you long enough that you couldn’t stop her, which I’ve done splendidly.”

“Stop her from what, exactly?” A part of Aedion noted Whitethorn’s obvious anger with a thrill of fear; the male was a highly capable warrior, after all, and with his magic as well Aedion wasn’t confident he could actually win a serious fight between them.

That being said, another part of him was delighted that he currently held power in the form of information, and that he had the ability to rile someone so famed for his foul but consistent disposition. With that in mind, Aedion launched one final barb. “I’m certain you could figure it out, if you took your time. Unless, of course, there’s more than one thing you know she could do that you would feel… compelled… to stop her from doing.”

The word was a hint that was far from subtle, and Rowan Whitethorn was no fool. As Aedion watched, he sat down hard in a nearby chair, eyes wide. “She’s going to Maeve.”

It wasn’t a question, but he responded regardless. “She is. Lysandra is to go back to Orynth in her place, disguising herself as Aelin until she reaches the border. I’ve sent letters ahead of us to Terrasen, to let the regent know of Aelin’s side trip. I am to follow behind her, now that it won’t raise suspicion and now that we’re unlikely to catch her before she reaches Doranelle.”

“And you let her?” Whitethorn demanded, incredulous. “Are you insane? Nothing good can come of the two of them meeting.”

“Yes to your first question, the second is debatable. And Aelin seems to think something good can come of it.” Aedion finally relented, letting his own expression soften. “But she can’t do it alone. I’m to follow her on the next ship to Wendlyn. Are you coming with me?”

“Of course I’m coming with you,” Whitethorn replied, no hesitation in his voice. “But before we do this, there’s something you should know. I don’t want your surprise to be a hindrance should a certain situation arise.”

“What is it that you think I should know?”

Aedion frowned as he caught a glimmer of regret in Whitethorn’s eyes. “I know who your father is, and we may come across him on our way to Maeve.”

Aedion’s world came to a grinding halt.

~*~*~

Aelin slipped off of the ship and into Wendlyn with a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been overly seasick on the journey, which she supposed was a relief, but she had kept to her cabin regardless out of a desire to remain as anonymous as possible. After all, Aelin Galathynius, Crown Princess of Terrasen, would attract undue attention.

Celaena Sardothien, the eccentric assassin, however, was someone from whom everyone kept their distance.

It was just as well, really. Aelin didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone on the voyage anyway. She had to maintain her focus on her plan. Instead, she had focused on the physical fitness drills Aedion had taught her so long ago and on sharpening the knives she had brought. If the other passengers thought her distant and cold, well, that was so much the better. The wildfire running through her veins was not intended for them.

Varese was several days’ travel from the port at which she’d landed, but some quick negotiations bought her a horse and food enough for the journey. She kept the hood of her cloak up for the entirety of the trip, both to maintain relative anonymity and to keep the hot rays of the sun away from her face.

She had heard that this land, the land of her mother’s family, was far warmer than the mountains to which she was accustomed. She had presumed it would be roughly equivalent to the summer days of Rifthold, if she gave the matter any thought at all. She had been terribly mistaken; the heat and humidity threatened to overwhelm her at the height of each day, forcing her to veer away from the road and seek shade and water for herself and for her mount.

It might have been easier to simply turn south and ride for Doranelle directly. It certainly would have taken less time. However, she had a favor to ask and a message to ensure the royal family of Wendlyn received, and so to Varese she went.

As she neared the city walls, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, she reminded herself, and I will not be afraid.

She reminded herself of this again as guards surrounded her at the city gate.

For all her nerves, though, the Ashryver line was well-loved in their own capital city. One look at her face and at her eyes, the turquoise-and-gold shared across most of her maternal line, and she was quickly ushered into a side room. “You’ve been expected,” a guard told her as she was left in a room with wine and some sort of flatbread.

Several minutes later, the door opened, and Aelin turned her attention to the room’s newest entrant.

But for their eyes, it would have been nearly impossible to tell that Galan Ashryver was of any relation to her. His dark hair and olive skin were far better suited to the climate of his homeland, whereas her pale complexion and golden hair fit her mountain home. But the Ashryver line produced turquoise eyes ringed with gold in most of its heirs, and when her gaze met his she saw the shared heritage.

Aelin stood and bowed slightly, wishing she had thought to bring finer clothes than her riding leathers. “Cousin, it is a great pleasure to meet at long last.”

Rather than stand on formalities, Galan pulled her into an embrace. “Well met, cousin, though I wish you had better news to bring me.”

Aelin smiled thinly. “There is hope yet,” she said. “I bring the proof I mentioned, along with confirmation that the Havilliards stand behind my actions thus far as well as those yet to come. I did not have time to hear from the Queen of the Wastes or the royal family of Eyllwe before my journey to you began, though I am certain that if you were to converse with Prince Dorian Havilliard he will have confirmation soon.”

As she watched, Galan skimmed through the papers she produced, brow furrowed in thought. “This certainly does seem compelling,” he murmured. “Though it concerns me that this was forgotten so long ago, if it is indeed true.”

“My greatest wish is that I am proven incorrect about the worst of my suspicions, though there is certainly much that needs to be answered regardless. I ride south to speak to our dear aunt, as quickly as possible.”

“You plan to ask her directly?”

“I do. If she can answer to my satisfaction, there need not be further action. And if our worst fears are realized…” She called one of her flames to appear in her hand, twining around her wrist like a bracelet before disappearing. She grinned up at her cousin. “I can take care of myself.”

Galan’s eyes widened. “So the reports of you inheriting Brannon’s power are true,” he remarked, “though your control is far better than reported.”

“I’ve spent a great deal of the past months improving my control,” she replied. “I’ve ignored my heritage for far too long, it would seem.”

Her cousin sighed and set the papers aside. “As you certainly know, I cannot give you the full approval of the crown of Wendlyn. That honor resides with my father still.”

Aelin nodded; she had suspected as much.

“However,” he continued, “I have full command of Wendlyn’s armies. I hope they will not be needed in this situation, but if the need arises I will aid you however I can.”

She smiled and stood. “Then you have my thanks, my dear cousin.”

“Will you need rooms here, to rest before carrying on with your journey?”

“You’re too kind,” she replied. “But no, I’m afraid I cannot delay. One of her blood-sworn warriors follows me, and I have already lingered too long.”

“The one you mentioned in your letter? I believed you to be friendly, from the way you spoke of him.”

“A blood oath does not recognize friendship beyond that of the sworn to his keeper. If she commands him to prevent me from arriving, he will be unable to do anything but comply. I wish to avoid placing him into such a situation if at all possible.”

“I understand,” Galan replied. “Do you wish me to attempt to detain him?”

“You will not be able to, though I appreciate your offer. No, it is best if Wendlyn remain neutral until it is absolutely necessary. Though with all luck, we may yet be able to avoid an incident we would all come to regret.”

“I certainly hope so. Go, then, cousin. Go with our blessing, and with our hopes for as peaceful an end as may be achieved.”

Aelin smiled and embraced him once more before they went their separate ways, him to report to his parents and her to continue her journey.

~*~*~

Aelin rode for Doranelle as quickly as she could, and soon she was once more within a forest. It was both hotter and more humid than those she called home, but it was still at least somewhat familiar.

Slightly less familiar and more unnerving was the continuous sensation that she was being watched. Obstacles she had spied along the path seemed to clear themselves before she could reach them, and occasionally she could swear she saw eyes peeking out from behind branches.

It wasn’t until the night before she reached her aunt’s borders that she finally faced some of the creatures that had been watching her, and she wasn’t certain whether to find it relieving or unnerving to discover that it had been the Little Folk watching her all along.

She had encountered their kindred in Terrasen, living quietly in the Oakwald Forest and preferring to remain largely unseen. If she lingered in the forest they had a tendency to leave small gifts along her path, little trinkets or particularly beautiful flowers.

These faeries had done more than leave an individual flower, though, for as she watched several of them placed a crown of beautiful red blossoms on a stone before her.

She could not name the flowers they had chosen. They appeared to be similar to the kingsflame that graced Terrasen during times of peace, but the blossoms were slightly larger and a different shade. Still, it was a crown that was all too appropriate for the Heir of Fire, and it both warmed her heart and made her nervous to realize that these faeries recognized her heritage just as readily as those who lived in the land she called home.

Deciding that politeness was the best way to proceed, she lifted the crown with a smile. “You have my thanks,” she murmured to the few who lingered. “This is a beautiful gift indeed, and I will treasure it as long as it lasts.”

The remaining Little Folk fled; either because of some noise in the forest she had not heard, or because she had called attention to them, she couldn’t be certain. She placed the crown of flowers atop her head regardless; it would be rude to thank them for their gift and then proceed to cast it aside.

The sun finally rose enough for her to see the path once more, and Aelin continued onward, wishing for the hundredth time that her secondary form was something more useful than a human shape. If she had been a bird like Rowan, she could have already completed her journey.

Aelin frowned. Perhaps it was best not to think of Rowan. Not now, when she was so close to her aunt’s territory and she needed to keep her wits about her. It was difficult to avoid thinking of him, however. How much had Aedion revealed to him by now? Had he followed at all? If he had, was it to fulfill his blood oath to her aunt and stop her, or was he going to attempt to help her however he could?

With a sigh, she realized that she had far too little information to speculate on his future actions. The only thing she could be reasonably certain of was that he would not directly harm her unless he was specifically ordered by Maeve to do so.

Depending on when exactly he caught up to her, the likelihood of her giving such an order was relatively high. Her aunt was known for many things, but her kindness and forgiving nature were not among them.

Perhaps it was for the best if he didn’t follow. She would have to alter significant portions of her plan, but he would be kept safe. Even as she thought it, though, she knew he would never be content to remain safe while others endangered themselves. No, he would come, to whatever end. All she could do was hope that she could make that a happier end than it would’ve otherwise become.

Resolve strengthened, she carried on along her path, and soon she was met by the calling of wolves.

These wolves, she knew, would be no ordinary creatures. No, these were sentinels for Maeve herself, loyal only to her. If her aunt wished it, these wolves would turn her away. If she pressed onward regardless, they would tear her apart if Maeve gave the order. No one outside of Doranelle was certain of the exact means of her control over these creatures, or even if they truly were wolves. Aelin supposed it didn’t truly matter. All that mattered was that they allow her to pass.

As two of the wolves approached her, she dismounted from her horse and walked out to meet them. It wouldn’t do to spook her mount unnecessarily, and it seemed wise to be as respectful as she could manage. “Greetings,” she called, and the wolves inclined their heads toward her.

She allowed some of her fire to manifest in the palm of her hand, twisting it around her fingers and wrist as she had done for Galan several days prior. “I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she said, “Princess of Terrasen. Heir of Brannon and of Mala Fire-bringer. You may know me as Aelin Fireheart, or perhaps Aelin of the Wildfire. I have come to meet with my aunt, Queen Maeve of the Fae of Doranelle.”

As the wolves looked on, she allowed her eyes to glow with the wildfire of her determination. She would not be stopped. She would see her aunt, and make her answer for all Aelin had learned.

Finally, the wolves moved to either side of the path, bowing their heads. Aelin simply walked back to her horse and swung herself into the saddle once more. She would be allowed to pass, and the wolves knew it.

Aelin smirked as she rode on, knowing the wolves were following her every movement now that she was truly within Maeve’s territory. It wouldn’t be long now. She would have her answers, and Rowan’s freedom, and perhaps even her own happiness.

All she had to do was fight for it with every ounce of strength she had within her.

~*~*~

“We’re less than a day behind her,” Rowan relayed to Aedion after meeting with the wolves that guarded the edge of Maeve’s territory.

The other warrior only nodded in reply. He had been remarkably quiet throughout the journey, and Rowan wasn’t certain whether it was the absence of his mate or the revelation of his heritage that had given him so much to think about. Perhaps it was both.

The male was taking it remarkably well, all things considered. He had occasionally asked quiet questions about what Gavriel was like, and Rowan had volunteered stories of his mentor and friend well into the night. He had been avoiding one question in particular, though, and it was this question that came forward as they began to move again. “Does he even know I exist?”

Rowan sighed. “I’m not certain. If he knows, he hasn’t told any of us. And that is certainly the correct decision if he does know; none of us would have been able to hide your existence if asked.”

“Because of the blood oath you all swore.”

It wasn’t a question, but Rowan nodded regardless. “She would use you against him at the slightest opportunity, as she uses anyone and everyone one of her blood-sworn holds dear.”

He had known, of course, what manner of female Maeve had been when he had sworn himself into her service. He’d known that she could be cruel, and merciless, and vindictive. He hadn’t cared, then; he’d welcomed it, even. Some part of him, the part that cried out for a mate that was no longer there, had relished it. It was, after all, no worse than what he deserved.

Doubt had begun to enter his mind when she had recruited Connall and then Fenrys, the Black Wolf and White Wolf. The way she had gone about it, and the way Fenrys in particular struggled against the oath constantly thereafter, were further indications of Maeve’s unique cruelty for anyone who cared to look. Rowan hadn’t, then, still convinced it was what he deserved. They had made their choice as much as he had; perhaps they’d had their reasons as well.

His doubts hadn’t truly manifested until he had explained his story to Aelin, and felt nothing but relief as she accepted all of him. He still believed that he deserved his fate; however, she deserved far better than to be entangled with such a dark court. If all had gone according to Maeve’s plan, he would have reported everything to her and Aelin would never have been safe again.

Rowan shook his head. It was pointless to think about; if there was a way to break a blood oath that didn’t result in death, he wasn’t aware of it. This was to be his fate, and he only hoped that Aelin could win her freedom from this life.

If she managed to free him as well, somehow, he would savor every moment of it and follow her to whatever end.

A ray of warm sunlight pierced through the clouds and he felt a strange sense of comfort, as though the goddess that had so blessed Aelin with her gift of fire had heard his thoughts and deigned to answer. Almost involuntarily, his eyes slid closed as he enjoyed the moment of warmth and peace. Too soon, however, the ray of sunlight passed on, and Rowan was left with only his divided thoughts once more.

Aedion was evidently only too happy to add to those doubts. “Did you know, when you swore to her, that she was like this? Did he?”

“We all did,” he said wearily. “We all had our own reasons for swearing the oath. What Gavriel’s were, I do not know. But we were under no illusions, if that’s what you ask. Every one of us knows what Maeve is capable of doing to those who cross her, as well as the rewards she bestows on those she grants her favor.” Both, of course, were twisted in their own way, but he wasn’t attempting to draw this conversation out any longer than he had to. If Aedion wanted answers to the questions he was actually asking, he would need to confront his father. “We should keep moving,” he said to cut off yet another question. “We don’t have long, if Aelin’s plan is truly for us to catch up to her as Maeve welcomes her.”

The journey into Doranelle was thankfully swift and free of obstacles, and soon they stood before the stone walls of the city that he called home but that felt like a cage. A tugging sensation near his heart, one that had been present since he had learned of Aelin’s departure, strengthened as they passed through the gates. It seemed that, though she had given no further explicit instructions, the blood oath demanded that Rowan act regardless.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to come.

It was too late to turn back now, though, and so instead he quietly led Aedion through the streets of the city, drawing ever closer to a palace made of stone at the center of the city built on the rivers. With each step, he thought another silent plea to whatever god or goddess may have cared to listen. For Aelin. For himself. For the warrior beside him. For the father who had never known his son. For the twins who had ensnared each other in Maeve’s grasp. If he was going to entertain desperate prayers that were unlikely to be realized, he might as well include Vaughan and Lorcan as well, though if Lorcan was somehow set free he was as likely to curse his liberator as he was to thank them.

He slipped them through a side door into the palace, down familiar halls and up familiar staircases. All the while, he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what they would face when they reached the room Maeve preferred for audiences. He realized quickly that it was futile, however; he couldn’t predict what Aelin would do, or how Maeve would react to an unknown force.

He especially couldn’t predict the words that froze him where he stood as they reached the door to Maeve’s audience chamber.

“So tell me,” Aelin was drawling, “how long have you known that you held the mate of the future Queen of Terrasen in a blood oath?”

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

#haven writes #rules of engagement #rowaelin

[ink-splotch]

Wangxian + 45 (gift)

Five Times Wei Wuxian Was Hungry + Once When He Was Not 

1 

It was Wei Ying’s favorite spot to scrounge. The morning’s cook cut the vegetables carelessly-- there was always a good few mouthfuls to gnaw off the cabbage and radish ends, the onions and peppers. He remembered having roasted potatoes before, with his mother and father, but it was hard lighting fires. And as soon as things started smelling good, other people came, or dogs. 

Raw potatoes though-- they were barely sweet, crisp, and grainy. He chewed them more for entertainment than because they filled him up. He’d gotten a good instinct for which mouthfuls went the longest ways. Some things stuck to the ribs. 

Wei Ying curled up in a different hollow each night, a different rooftop or alley or meadow or tree, and ran his fingers over the curved ridges of his ribs. He counted them and thought of his mother teaching him arithmetic, moving little twigs and stones into place beside a fire. 

2

“Dinner was delicious.” 

Wei Wuxian managed not to flail off the roof. “Jiang Cheng, you’re so mean.” Past his brother’s ugly face, the moon was setting low over the wide, still ponds of Lotus Pier. 

“Well, dumbass, don’t piss off mom next time.” Jiang Cheng scooted slowly down the roof tiles. One day, they would have this down to an art, play light-footed games of tag at midnight. One day, they would huddle on these same tiles and watch their parents bleed out, holding hands. Wei Wuxian dropped down onto the wooden pathway, reaching up a hand to help, which Jiang Cheng ignored. “I tried to sneak you out some bao, but First Uncle caught me.” 

“So you do love me!” Wei Wuxian grinned at him, all of twelve and gangly with it. 

Jiang Cheng shoved him. “If you starve to a skeleton, who will be around for me to beat at swords?” 

“Who will be around to beat you, you mean--”

“Both of you!” 

At the hiss, Wei Wuxian latched onto Jiang Cheng’s startled flail of his arm. The ponds past them were still, painted with moonlight and pockmarked with lotus. 

Jiang Yanli waved at them from the open door of her room. “Come on, in here. You both tiptoe like elephants.” 

“It’s Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian explain, slipping into the room behind her. “I mean, he ate too much at dinner and now he’s going to bust through the floor into the lake.” 

“Sit down, sit down,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’ve been waiting for hours, listening for you.” 

“I was going to head down to town,” Wei Wuxian said. 

“No need for that,” she said. She lifted the lid off a clay pot on her desk. Light pork flavor wafted up and Wei Wuxian’s stomach grumbled. He poked at it, betrayed. 

“Have as much as you want,” Jiang Yanli said, reaching for the ladle. Her voice was soft, but it was always soft, even when they weren’t sitting in the dim light listening for creaks in the hallway. 

“What about me?” Jiang Cheng demanded. 

“You, too, A-Cheng,” she said. “If we run out, we’ll make a brave expedition to the kitchens to acquire more mission materiel.” 

Her eyes sparkled even in the low lights. Wei Wuxian liked this so much better, the slyness in her eyes as she teased her brother, than the way she sat quiet in the daylight, peeling lotus seeds with shaking fingers, while her mother rose up like a bonfire. 

There was a creak from the hallway. Wei Wuxian would have counted it for a mouse in the night, but Jiang Yanli’s head shot up. “That’s mother, coming to check up on me. Quick, both of you, out the window. Sorry, I-- quickly, now.” 

That night, Wei Wuxian lay in bed with a still empty stomach-- an old feeling, a familiar one. He’d last til morning, easy, he knew that. 

But this was unfamiliar, even now: his palms still felt the ghost of heat, of a warm bowl cradled in them, smuggled through the darkness and meant for him. 

3

“Ai, Lan Zhan, you didn’t think to pack anything to eat? So thoughtless. Even those Qishan bao would be acceptable. I mean, I know I told Nie Huaisang they tasted burnt, but that was mostly lies. And if we’re stuck here much longer, I’d even eat that terrible bitter Gusu soup!” 

Lan Zhan’s head was tipped back against the rough stone of the cave, eyes closed. Firelight played softly over the ridge of his jaw, the column of his neck. He didn’t respond to Wei Wuxian, not even to the bit about the soup. 

Wei Wuxian sprawled where he could, trying to find a comfortable bit of ground while keeping an eye on Lan Zhan. “I ate every bowl I was given, when I was there,” he told Lan Zhan. “So I know what I’m talking about. Your clan doesn’t know how to eat. One day, I’ll take you to Lotus Pier, and you’ll see.” 

4

At first the noise distracted him from the emptiness-- from the hunger, yes, but also from the quiet lack where his golden core once had been. It felt silent inside of him, that void under his belly, the way he hadn’t felt silent in years. 

Spirits called for vengeance, for justice and fury, for freedom and power. Beneath the black cloud of that rage, there were quieter voices too-- asking for rest, for remembrance, for respite. 

Beneath it all, though, he still had a body, however empty. He found water dripping down the cliff face. He dug up roots and caught rats. He lit fires to roast them. He figured that everything that could scare him already knew how to find him. 

He remembered how it felt to wither, day by day. He watched his body shrink and hollow, familiar.

The spirits called for vengeance and he agreed. The spirits cried for justice and he promised it. His body begged for sustenance and he told it to wait. There were more important things. 

5

Lil Apple reached out his neck, trying to snap his big ugly teeth at some greener grass growing off the path. “Ah, yeah, you hungry, you spoiled beast?” Wei Wuxian said, trying to tug him forward. “I gave you my last bit of melon this morning.” 

Wei Wuxian managed to drag the donkey a few strides further before he gave up, sagging against a tree while Lil Apple waded out into greener pastures. He brayed again and Wei Wuxian hoped it was joy, but suspected it was something a little more vengeful. 

“You’re lucky you can eat grass,” he called after him. 

They’d left a town with a water spirit problem five days ago--well, a town that had previously had a water spirit problem. They’d given him a bag of apples, a stack of flatbread, and a big meal before he’d left. He rolled the memory over his tongue-- creamy eggplant and salted fish, spicy enough even to satisfy him. 

It was days ago now, and that old familiar ache was curling under his heart. But there’d be a village around any corner now, a farm with a blight, or a merchant caravan looking for some peace of mind. 

Even if there wasn’t, he could go far longer than this without a shake to his legs or to his smile. He had. 

Even if the land was barren for miles, at the end of it he’d wash up in Caiyi town in time for loquat season. He’d climb the mountain by foot, palming the jade pass in his sleeve, and there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he arrived. 

But for now, the crickets were calling from the grass. Heat beat down from a wide, clear sky and Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. 

His body whispered for sustenance and he told it wait, wait, but this time it was a promise cradled warm and soft in his palms.

+1

“You’re not busy, are you?” Wen Ning said. 

Wei Wuxian glanced up from gnawing on the end of his calligraphy brush. It wasn’t an old bad habit of his, but he thought it might have been one of Mo Xuanyu’s. Also, the first time Lan Qiren had caught him doing it, he’d gone red in the face, so Wei Wuxian had rather leaned into it. 

“We don’t want to bother you,” Wen Ning went on, bobbing his head. “I know you’re doing important work…” 

“If I haven’t figured out how to balance this talisman yet-- and I haven’t,” Wei Wuxian said, wrinkling his nose at the crumbled papers beside him, “then it’s not going to happen tonight.” He leaned back, elbows on the wood floor of the inn. “What’s going on, Wen Ning? You and Sizhui get into trouble in the market?” 

“No, we had some good luck.” Wen Ning stepped finally through the door. “If you could come down to the…”

“Did you find something on the case?” Wei Wuxian leapt to his feet. 

“No, no,” Wen Ning said, following him down the stairs. One of the inn staff caught one look at Wen Ning and threw himself backward into an open room. “We just, I mean, I hope it’s not overstepping.” 

Down on the ground floor of the inn, Lan Sizhui looked up and smiled to see them. He rose from the table where he’d been laying out four bowls. “Wei-qianbei." 

"What's this, now?" Wei Wuxian said, glancing over the table. 

“Wen Ning has been telling me stories of when I was little,” Lan Sizhui said, settling his hands gently on the lid of the pot. He did most things gently, that kid, and it didn’t come from Lan Zhan, who was deliberate in every movement but rarely soft in the public eye, or Lan Qiren. It certainly didn’t come from Wei Wuxian. 

Wen Ning settled down opposite Lan Sizhui at Lan Sizhui’s encouraging nod, and Wei Wuxian realized-- it was his uncles. It was the way Lan Xichen had used to move quiet and kind through a crowded room. It was the way Wen Ning was so careful with his strength. 

“He told me about a day when he carried a little bowl of soup miles home from Yiling, so I could try it. It was cold by the time he got there, of course, but… I don’t remember it really.” Lan Sizhui pulled the lid from the pot, the rich scent rising up. “But helping Madam Wang in the kitchen, the smell-- I think I do remember, a little.” 

“We found lotus root in the market,” Wen Ning said. “And pork ribs, and the landlady here has a cousin from Lotus Pier. We thought…”

Wei Wuxian dropped down into a seat at the table, heavy and silent. He closed a hand over Wen Ning’s wrist, softly. 

“Have as much as you want,” Lan Sizhui said, reaching for the ladle. His voice was soft. 

-

When Lan Zhan got back to the inn, he found them still there, leaning over empty bowls and laughing about radishes. 

He paused in the doorway to take in the sight-- Wei Ying with his head thrown back; Wen Ning waving his hands while he talked, like he'd forgotten to shrink himself down; Lan Sizhui soaking it in like he had years of family to catch up on. 

Lan Zhan crossed the room to join them, Wei Ying spotting him when he got close. He was smiling already, but he smiled wider. "Ai, Lan Zhan, you're here! Sit down, sit down. We even saved you some soup." 

[soundwavefucker69]

Baby Tal'ika: cuddles with Fox

☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Let’s do this

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

The Jedi had, in fact, pulled away from Coruscant, and taken basically the entire GAR with them. Fox was pretty sure no one had expected that from them. He certainly hadn’t. The idea of the Jedi not being on Coruscant felt practically sacrilegious. But, here they were, on an uninhabited planet in the Inner Rim, building their own temple around a Force Nexus point, whatever that meant. Alderaan and Naboo had gone above and beyond to lend a hand to the Jedi, but everyone had been actually shocked at how self sufficient the Jedi actually were with their Service Corps. The AgriCorps alone were beasts, literally building the temple out of forcing literal trees and plants to grow in some strange way to form proper insulation and structure.

The temple finally had its living quarters, including the creche, built. For the past several months, Fox had been enjoying Tal’ika living in his hastily constructed home. Obi-Wan had been preoccupied with darting around the galaxy putting out fires, and while Fox, as a Commander, could have definitely been useful out there... He had a few months with Tal’ika in comparison to years spent with other people raising them.

Mace had assured him that he would still see them, and see them a lot. Jedi were partially rearranging their protocols regarding family separation, mainly because now that they were far removed from politics, there was a little more leeway in worries about outside influences. Jedi Initiates in the creche could have familial contact, instead of working up to contact once they were padawans. And, well, Fox was going to be working with the Jedi. A lot. Probably more than he should, but he was a workaholic, and it was probably a problem, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

In any case, tomorrow they would start moving the little ones into the creche, and Fox was going to have his hands full getting all of the cadets and babies from Kamino settled in the ‘barracks’, because they were going to start getting shipped in in the next week. The logistics was going to be a nightmare. And Tal’ika was going to be gone, off in the creche with the other Jedi babies, and he was no longer going to be waking up with a warm weight in his bed that should be in their own damned bed. He wasn’t going to be making breakfast for two, wasn’t going to be helping them with their education modules, wasn’t going to be coordinating childcare with the crechemasters and other clones that had volunteered to help keep the Initiates in line until they could keep them all contained. He wasn’t going to be hounding them to make sure they brushed their teeth, or struggling over the braids he had learned to make, or having running conversations in a mix-up of Basic and Mando’a with a kid who still couldn’t reach the floor with their socked feet when they sat at the kitchen table. He wasn’t going to be carting them off to work, wasn’t going to be wrangling them to eat their vegetables, wasn’t going to be blatantly ignoring their abuse of the Force because it was the Jedi’s job to get after them for having fun, not him.

Tal’ika probably wouldn’t be moved in until the end of the week, but it was still hurting. The loss. He had really gotten attached, but he also had to be incredibly honest with himself. The constant stream of the chip being activated in his brain had fucked him up on several levels. He was trying his best. He really was. But memories of what he had been forced to forget were slowly and steadily filtering back in, and he wasn’t handling it well. He was keeping it together as best as he could, for Tal’ika, because he only had a few months with them before they went to people that didn’t need to see a mind healer on a daily basis for the foreseeable future, but Fox was also well aware that he was in no position to raise a child. He still had nightmares of control being ripped away, watching his body murder his own child with no way to stop it. An unwilling spectator to hell. A failure of a father.

No, he needed to work this shit out away from Tal’ika, because his kid was a goddamn empath and could tell sometimes he was terrified of them, and that just wasn’t healthy for them. Or him. He wanted to be selfish and raise them on his own, away from the Jedi and a life of monastic servitude, but they wanted it. They craved being a Jedi like a Quarren craved the sea. He couldn’t just make the decision for them, and he had to admit that the structure of being a Jedi was probably for the best for a child that had been genetically engineered to be slightly unhinged.

He wasn’t enough for them, and it kind of stung. Not enough a sting to not be happy that he was giving them the best possible chance in life while still getting to be their buir, but it stung. Obi-Wan was going to be getting back from mop-up operations on Toydaria tomorrow, and they were going to be spending time together with Cody, and Fox’s time alone with Tal’ika was coming to an end. Tal’ika, the perceptive little thing that they were, knew he was getting worked up. He’d cooked their favorite meal, a flatbread kind of dish piled high with trash like cheese and cured meats and sauce, and bullied them to go take a damned shower, because they had taken a tumble off a hill today and were utterly drenched in dirt and leaves, and a change of clothes had done the bare minimum to spare his little house. He was going to have to clean. Now, while they were washing off in the fresher, he was alone with his spiraling thoughts and dishes, up to his elbows in the water as he scrubbed the excess that had built up over the day.

Soft feet padded down the hallway, and he scowled at the bit of lunch that was stuck on the pot, refusing to budge under his scrubbing. Tiny hands wrapped around his waist, and Fox froze as a little head thunked right in the middle of his back, wet hair pressing into his shirt as Tal’ika ground their face into his back.

“What’s up?” He asked, and their arms tightened around him.

“You’re upset,” they mumbled, and Fox swallowed.

“You’d be pretty upset if you were scrubbing this pot.”

“Then let it soak,” they grumbled, and he dried his hands, peeled his arms off from around his waist as he turned around. Undettered, they smacked their face right into his gut and clung to his stomach.

Ah. It wasn’t the empathy. They were upset, too.

With a sigh, he bent down to pick them up and carry them into the living room, flopping down on the couch and nabbing the blanket thrown over the arm. Without another word, they curled up in his lap, and he lifted and maneuvered them around so he could wrap them in the blanket.

“Did you brush your hair?” He asked, already knowing the answer, because the brush was sitting on the end table where he left it last night.

“No,” they mumbled, sounding utterly miserable, and he shifted them around so they were between his thighs. The brush was gathered up, and he started to work through their damp hair.

“You know you’ll still see a lot of me,” he reminded them, and they let out a huff of air.

“I know.” They didn’t sound convinced.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” he promised, though that wasn’t strictly true. They would be able to get rid of him, very easily, because as soon as everyone got everything functioning, he’d be fulfilling his duties as Minister of Education, which meant that he was going to be busy. Extremely busy. At least he wasn’t going to be Senator. They had offered him the position and he had looked Cody dead in the eyes and informed him if they let him into the Senate chamber without the threat of decommissioning looming over his head, there were at least fifty Senators that weren’t going to be making it out alive.

Rizz was going to be Senator. Fox thought they were the superior choice, personally. The Senate wasn’t going to know what hit them. One look of disappointment from Rizz would leave a shiny in tears, so it was probably going to be very effective in the Senate.

But.... Even so.

Tal’ika was glaring at the wall, which was basically just their way of showing that they were sad, and he sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to the back of their head.

“We agreed on this, remember?” He murmured, his hands stilling, and Tal’ika tugged the blanket a little tighter around their shoulders.

“I know,” they muttered, but they didn’t sound happy about it. Was this what it felt like to send off your kid to boarding school?

“C’mere,” he said, deeming their hair appropriately brushed, and shifted them around so they were sitting more firmly against him. Tal’ika curled into his warmth, huffy and upset, and he leaned over to flick on their favorite holofilm.

“I think we can ignore your bedtime tonight. Obi-Wan isn’t here to get mad, is he?” He murmured, and Tal’ika snorted before wriggling around so they could watch the irritating holofilm he had memorized at this point. 

“Obi-Wan doesn’t get mad. He gets disappointed,” they mumbled, and he snorted as he wrapped them up tight with as much love as he could put into his embrace.

“That he does,” he agreed smoothly. “That he does.”

Tal’ika’s attention flicked back to the holofilm, and Fox resigned himself to dramatic collapses on fainting couches and high end Core accents and ridiculous hairdos and pointless gestures to offset the jewelry dripping from their fingers from actresses having the time of their lives being as dramatic as they could. Why they loved these weird glam murder mysteries was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t a musical.

Tal’ika mouthed along to the lines they had memorized, and slowly and steadily, they started to relax in his grip. By the time they got to the torrid and helpless kiss in the rain that Fox knew for a fact was ruining the fur stole and silks the titular actress was wrapped in, they were a useless lump in his lap, and his mind was drifting back to the dishes abandoned in the sink. He still needed to finish them, but...

Something wet and slimy hit his neck, and his eyes locked on the wall as he realized they were definitely asleep and definitely drooling on him.

Well. Maybe a little longer. He knew as well as any clone that if he blinked, they’d be too big to do this again.

Just a little longer.

#realityhoudini #red fox comes running #shrooms is writing #tiny!tal'ika

[bokutos-eyebrows]

It’s a Match! pt 2

Part two of my asahi college au <3 Read Part 1 here

Asahi Azumane x Fem!Reader

College AU

Warnings: light cursing

Word Count: 2,099

You finally come in contact with the tall, long haired, cutie in your class! Will the conversation be as good offline as it is over text?

Hey stranger, how’s your spring break going :)

You stared at the tinder message from Asahi in complete shock. There was no way this was actually happening. 12 minutes had passed since he sent the message and you scrambled to find the words to text him back. 

It’s going a lot better now :3 I hope you’ve been enjoying the time off!

You cringed at your message as you read it over but decided to be bold(ish). I mean worst case scenario he gets creeped out, unmatches me, and I drop out of school out of pure embarrassment right? You hit send and tossed your phone down onto your bed, dancing around out of excitement and anxiety to see how the situation played out. 

Hahaha! That’s good to hear. :D I stayed on campus to work on some projects I really needed to finish.

Asahi had texted you back immediately, causing you to nearly choke on your own spit out of excitement. The conversation was flowing super naturally. He told you about his major and what classes he was taking. You found out he shared your passion for manga and anime, even having some of the same favorite series. 

Before you knew it, it was nearly dinner time, and you had been chatting with Asahi the entire day. You wondered what to make when you saw his latest message.

Hey, since we both dorm, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place for dinner? No pressure or anything :) I’m cooking carbonara and flatbread!

You froze in panic. A date with Asahi? Well not necessarily a date just hanging out over dinner but still.. Before you lost your sudden burst of confidence, your fingers started typing frantically.

Wow that sounds amazing I would love to :)) What time should I come?

It’s getting darker out so I’ll come pick you up and walk you to my building around 7 if that works with you? Also do you have any dietary restrictions I should know? :) 

You smiled at your phone. “HOW IS THIS MAN SO CUTE?!?!? AND RESPECTFULLLLL!” you yelled out loud while typing up a response to your soon to be date. You had an hour and a half to get ready and while it felt like an eternity, it also felt like not nearly enough time.

You tried on multiple outfits, stressed about whether you were under or over dressed for the occasion. Finally, you settled for a pair of tight, ripped, light wash jeans, a form fitting floral top, and your favorite oversized cardigan. As you put the finishing touches on your hair and makeup, your phone lights up with a new tinder message.

I’m outside your building! I didn’t want to cause a disturbance by coming in or knocking! Take your time to come out :)

Your heart swelled as you read the text. He is such a considerate and kind person I can’t believe this is even happening! You told your roommates where you were headed and stepped out to meet Asahi. 

“Y/n!” He waved to you, flashing you a smile, “It’s so nice to see you!” He was dressed in a fitted pair of dark denim jeans and cream turtleneck sweater, with his hair up in a loose bun. It took all your self control not to blurt out every compliment that was going through your mind.

“Hi Asahi!” You shared a semi awkward hug. “Thanks for coming to pick me up!”

“Of course! It may be a short walk but, I’d prefer making sure you were safe!” He was beaming, “I really like your outfit!” 

You blushed slightly, “Thank you! I actually really like yours too! But that’s such a compliment coming from you Mr. Fashion Designer!” The two of you continued with the light banter until you made it to Asahi’s dorm apartment. 

“My rowdier roommate, Nishinoya went home for the break, so it’s only me, Daichi, and Sugawara, my two good friends, here tonight.” Asahi mentioned as he unlocked the door and held it open for you.

“DAICHI THEY’RE HERE.” You heard a yell in the apartment as a gray haired boy came running to the front door to greet you. “Oh my god she’s even prettier than the pictures.” He blurted out.

“Suga, please shut up.” Another boy appeared behind Sugawara. “Hi y/n, I’m Daichi! Please ignore this idiot.” 

You laughed as Daichi scolded Suga and turned to Asahi. “So I take it you showed them my profile?” You smirked, silently enjoying making the 6’2, soft boy squirm. 

“W-Well it’s more like they took my phone and looked for themselves.” He stammered. 

Sugawara covered his mouth with his hands to hide his laughter as an annoyed Daichi dragged him back away with an “It was nice meeting you, have fun!” And you were left to enjoy your dinner date.

Asahi plated the meal beautifully. Jesus he’s hot, respectful, and can cook?!? You mused to yourself while taking a picture of his carbonara and flatbread dish. “This is going on instagram.” You stated, your seriousness making Asahi laugh.

“I’m honored, y/n.” He smiled, “I didn’t know if you drank alcohol so I didn’t get a wine to pair or anything but help yourself to anything in the fridge!”

“Actually I make really good margaritas!” You light up suddenly feeling bold, “If you want, you can come to my place tomorrow and have drinks with me!” 

Asahi’s cheeks were tinted pink at the prospect of seeing you a second night in a row. “If it’s not a bother I would love to, y/n.”

The two of you continued dinner, chatting away about your hobbies and interests. Neither of you mentioned the elephant in the room; your shared class and the incidents of the previous class meetings but you didn’t mind. That was a chat for another day. 

After you ate, Asahi suggested you both move to the balcony to enjoy the starry night sky while you chat. You still couldn't believe you were really in his apartment, on a casual date with the man you’d been ogling all semester. 

“You’re really cute, y/n. I hope that’s not too forward.” Asahi giggled after you had said something that made him burst out in laughter. You beamed at him, “You’re really cute too, Asahi. I’ve always thought so.” 

He scooted closer to you so your shoulders were touching as you continued your conversation. Occasionally he would grab your hand and play with your fingers. The night grew colder so you made your way inside. It was approaching midnight but you were hoping the night wasn’t over for you and Asahi yet.

“Do you want to start a new anime together? We have some common ones on our watchlists.” Asahi sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. You purposefully sat as close as possible, thighs touching Asahi’s. “Yeah! That sounds good!” 

The two of you decided on an anime that was currently airing, there were only 5 episodes out so far. Asahi put his arm up on the top of the couch behind you, avoiding actually putting his arm around you. He’s so sweet. You mused, leaning into him as if to give your permission to hold you. Asahi smiled and draped his arm around your shoulders. The two of you stayed like this snuggled up, your hand intertwined with his. 

Asahi absentmindedly rubbed your hand with his thumb rhythmically as he focused on the episode. You felt him squeeze your hand when the action scenes got intense. God, he’s so adorable. 

The night crept on and you found yourself getting sleepy, your head nodding off on Asahi’s shoulder. You felt Asahi’s warm hand cup your cheek.

“Y/n,” he whispered gently, “I’m sorry to wake you,”

“Hmm?” You sat up, slightly embarrassed that you’d dozed off.

“I paused the show when you fell asleep so you wouldn’t be lost next time we watch!” Asahi laughed, “It’s getting late and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable like I trapped you here or anything.... I also was worried your neck would get sore if you slept like that too long, I’m sorry..”

“Thank you for caring so much, Asahi,” you hugged his side, “I appreciate you, I’ll get going now so I can sleep and have enough time to prepare our date tomorrow.” You stretched your arms. Oh shit did I just call it a date? You started to panic.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm, let me get you one of my jackets, it’s really cold out! I can’t have you getting sick before our second date.” Asahi squeezed you reassuringly and went to fetch the extra coat. You looked at your phone. It read 2:39 A.M. Time had gone by so much faster than you’d realized. It had felt like you and Asahi were in your own little world the entire night. 

Asahi returned with a black fleece sweater, blushing as you put it on over your outfit. “Y-You look really cute in my jacket.” He stammered, causing you to giggle at this cute flustered mess.

“Thank you for lending it to me!” You smiled and grabbed his hand. The two of you walked out quietly, so as to not disturb Suga or Daichi. Though the walk to your dorm building was short, you enjoyed every second of it.

Asahi stayed close to you to share warmth, finders intertwined with yours. You walked slowly to be able to spend more time with him, even if it was just seconds extra. He walked you all the way to the door of your dorm apartment. 

“Thank you again for walking me, you really didn’t have to.” 

“It’s late, and I wanted to make sure you made it home safely,” Asahi put his hand on the back of his neck, “And I wanted to spend a little more time with you, too.” He confessed.

You beamed at him, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, or should I say later today.” You laughed.

“I’m looking forward to it too. I also was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Could I have your phone number? I don’t really use tinder often, you’re the only person I talked to on there...so I figure...it would be easier...if we just texted?” Asahi blushed.

“You’re the only person I’m talking to on Tinder too,” You confessed, “I actually only made the account to try to find you. I hope that’s not weird?” 

“That’s a relief!” Asahi sighed happily, “I actually did the same thing. I didn’t know how else to approach you!”

You both laughed at your mutual awkwardness and exchanged phone numbers before Asahi took his leave for the night.

“Goodnight, y/n. I’ll see you later” Asahi pulled you into a tight hug. You breathed in his scent, enjoying the warmth his strong arms engulfed you in.

“Text me when you get back to your place okay?” You mumbled as you reluctantly let him go.

The two of you parted ways and you were greeted by your worried roommates.

“We were worried about you!”

“Y/n we were 10 minutes away from calling the police! Next time, text us!”

You giggled at them and proceeded to recount the events of the night. A few minutes went by before your phone buzzed with a text.

 I’m so happy we both swiped right :)

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

 Asahi closed his apartment door quietly behind him, leaning back against it and sighing happily. His moment of silent bliss was soon interrupted by the loud patter of footsteps running towards him.

“ASAHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” Suga yelled at the top of his lungs, Daichi chasing behind him. “Tell. Us. Everything.” 

Asahi jumped, spooked by the sudden yelling. “I could see you spying from the hallway, Suga.” He laughed, “I’m sure you know most of what happened.”

Daichi groaned. “Suga I told you not to do that...” he scolded.

“Okay but I know something must have happened when you walked her home right?? A kiss maybeee???” Sugawara prodded eagerly. 

“N-No I’m not a creep!” Asahi stammered. “But I did ask her for her phone number...and we both confessed we only talked to each other on tinder.....and she told me she only made her account to find me....” the long haired male mumbled.

“yeSSSSSSSSSS!” Sugawara yelled, earning a smack from Daichi.

“Well, it seems you two are a match made in heaven. I’m happy for you Asahi!” Daichi exclaimed, patting his friend on the back.

“Yeah, I think we make a good match too.” Asahi beamed.

NOTES: Thank you so so much for reading! Part 3 will come in the next few days! I hope u love Asahi as much as I do!

Tag List: @yeet-these-hoez

#asahi azumane x reader #asahi x reader #asahi azumane #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons

[broadstbroskis]

idk if you’re still doing t-swift prompts but if you are could I request brock boeser and mary’s song!! btw loved your matty tkachuk + wearing his name story💕

ahhh thank you 💜💜

here is brock and mary’s song (with some accidental paper rings vibes thrown in, oops sorry not sorry🤷‍♀️)

-----

The evening of your fifth birthday, after all of your friends had gone home with their party bags and the only people left were your family and your next door neighbors, your sister comes running inside to drag you away from your brand new paint set to bring you outside where she was playing with her best friend.

As older siblings of their families, Lauren and Jessica were sure they knew best and it’d was only the start of what was sure to be a summer of being pulled into their games and forced into whatever role they didn’t want to play. The ugly stepsister from Cinderella. The student in class. The worst Cabbage Patch doll.

Luckily, you had a partner in crime of your own. Jessica’s brother, Brock, was almost two years older than you but that still made him younger than the two of them, and in Lauren and Jess’ minds, that may as well have made you both babies, dolls for the two of them to play around with. 

Brock’s sitting on the ground, picking at the grass, looking grumpy, so whatever Jess and Lauren have planned, must be something he’s already been waiting for them to organize for a while. But your face lights up at the sight of your best friend and you happily go sit down next to him, content to just be near him as he continues to pick at blades of grass and see which ones are good for whistling with, while continuing to wait for your sisters.

Really, you’re always just happy to be near him. Brock hung the moon. He’s the best hockey player. He’s always so nice, including you in games with his friends or wandering over to your house after school or practice just to see if you wanted to do something. 

“Okay.” Jess claps her hands together. “I think we’re ready.”

Lauren shoves a handful of dandelions in your hand and pulls you up to stand in front of her and Jess. “Stop!” She shrieks, when you go to make a wish on your bouquet. “Not yet!”

Jess is in the process of man-handling Brock to stand across from you and he’s still grumbling, trying to pull his arm away from his sister, but once he’s standing in front of you, he smiles at you, like the two of you are sharing a secret or teaming up against your older sisters- the way things have always been really.

You and Brock against the world.

“Brock.” Jess signs long-sufferingly. “Do you want to marry YN so that Lauren and I can be sisters forever?”

He gives his sister a look. “Uhh, I guess?”

She huffs at him, annoyed. “You’re supposed to say I do!”

“I do!”

“YN.” Lauren addresses you. “Will you marry Brock so that we can all be related and stay friends forever and ever?”

Is that what this meant? Weddings made you related to someone forever? As if you’d ever say no to that! Lauren and Jess are glaring but it’s Brock’s hopeful look that makes you grin. “I do,” You say solemnly.

“Great!” Jess cheers. “It’s time for rings.” She hands you each a round piece of construction paper. “Put this on each other’s fingers!”

“Yours is purple and Brock’s is blue, because those are your favorite colors.” Lauren adds, matter-of-factly.

Brock is smiling as you slip the blue circle on his finger and then you giggle as he tries to find one of yours that the purple ring will fit on. He finally slips it on your thumb, and it stays, mostly, and the two of you look back at your sisters.

“What’s that thing…” Lauren trails off.

“What thing?”

“That thing!”

“Oh!” Jess cries. “Um. I now pron-prin-ce you man and wife! Kiss the bride!”

Brock gives you a skeptical look and you eye him right back, but he obliges and gives you a small kiss, both of you immediately wiping your lips afterwards. “What next?” He asks skeptically.

“We blow out the flowers!” Lauren says, excitedly. “And make a wish!”

It’s easy to distribute your bouquet between the four of you and then make your own wish. You can’t ever imagine a more perfect day than today, so you just wish for more of them.

-----

The day of your sixteenth birthday is the day that Brock is drafted by the Vancouver Canucks and instead of the Sweet Sixteen party that your friends have been dying for, you spend it sitting in front of a television, anxiously waiting for his name to be called.

When it finally is, you can’t stop grinning, and announce that cake can now be served. Your dad makes a joke that there are two things to celebrate now, but you had no doubts in your heart that there wouldn’t have been. Brock was going to be drafted; you’d always known it. It was just a matter of where he went. 

And well, blue had always been his favorite color. 

The Boeser’s don’t return until mid-week, at which point summer break has begun, which means you’re pulling yourself out of bed at midday right around when they’re pulling into their driveway.

Your dad opens the front door, without looking up from the paper he’s reading on his way back to his home office, and you know instantly what that means, running outside to go meet Brock, still in the short shorts and oversized tee (that originally had belonged to him) you’d slept in last night. 

Brock’s unloading the trunk of the car but he drops the bag he’s holding onto the driveway just in time, to catch you as you leap into his arms and spin you around. 

“I’m so happy for you.” You mutter into his chest, when he returns you safely to the ground. 

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” He says, into your hair.

“Best present ever.” You declare, ignoring that familiar fluttering feeling in your stomach that’s been popping up more and more often whenever he says incredibly sweet things like that.

“Yeah?” Brock laughs, squeezing you once. “Wait until you see what I brought you from Florida!”

“You brought me a present from Florida?” You gasp, teasing him. “You knew my birthday has been coming up and you waited until the day of to buy me a gift?”

He grins. “It’ll be worth it. Clear your schedule tonight, okay?”

You’d already agreed to go to a party with some of your friends, deep in the woods behind someone’s lake house, but you’re sure they’ll understand. “Okay.”

Brock returns the smile you send him with a grin. “Good.”

A few hours later, he’s leading you to your favorite ice cream shop and then laughing as he purposefully brushes some along your nose within minutes of sitting down. “Brock!” You laugh, twisting away.

“You missed a spot.” He teases. You pull a face at him, brushing at the side of your nose. “No.” He huffs. “Here.” He licks his thumb and then gently wipes the opposite side. 

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s so close, so close, so freaking close. “Thanks.”

Brock smiles back. “Anytime.” But this smile seems different than his usual smile, definitely softer and with this hint of something you can’t quite put your finger on, which starts to drive you crazy when that smile stays on his face for the rest of the night.

It’s late when Brock finally pulls your gift up onto the table, still sitting out on the patio of the ice cream shop and overlooking Main Street in your town on the extremely mild June evening that has plenty of people still walking around. “Big bag,” You joke, and then attempt to fall back on an old stand-by to try and ease the fluttering in your stomach that’s been in overdrive because of the smile on his face. “You sure there’s not a car in there?”

Brock gives you a look. “I got drafted, I didn’t sign shit yet.” You laugh. “But go on, open it!”

You grin at him and then reach into the bag, pulling out a flat object, immediately grinning at the driftwood “greetings from Florida” sign that will fit perfectly in with the aesthetic of your room. “Hey, sweet!”

“There’s more,” Brock encourages.

You reach in, fingers touching fabric, and hoping beyond hope for a kitschy Florida t-shirt, you’re shocked when you pull out a Canucks jersey. “Brock.” You breathe, looking up to see his expression, but he’s closer than you’d expected, and suddenly he’s so close…

You close your eyes, reach up for his cheek, and kiss him back. 

-----

It’s the first day of real spring in Vancouver and Brock convinces you that it’ll be a good idea to go and grab dinner and a drink at your favorite rooftop bar.

“It’s going to be crowded.” You whine at him. It’d been your least favorite thing about the city since moving in with him after you graduated college last spring. Everywhere was always packed the second the weather turned beautiful. 

“Come on,” Brock whines back, mocking you, easily pulling a grin to your face. “It’s so nice; it’ll be worth it.”

Brock’s never lied to you before and you have to admit that he’s right about tonight as well as soon as the two of you start walking over. The bar’s not even super crowded, surprisingly, and you two grab a table in the corner easily, starting to make light chatter as you browse the menu, like you’re not just going to get the same flatbread that you always end up getting.

Brock laughs as you place your order and then makes his own choice, before turning back to you. “So what’s new?”

You groan. “Lauren is driving me crazy.” There’s a sound from behind you and you turn to look, but Brock grabs both your hand and your attention back.

“How?” He asks, with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“These stupid wedding favors and this stupid bachelorette party!” Jesus, did he need you to go on? Your sister was a certified Bridezilla and everyone, including Lauren, admitted it!

“Well,” Brock says mildly. “I guess you never know what you’ll be like until you actually have to start planning a wedding.” Another noise behind you has you nosily turning to look until Brock follows his first statement with, “Are you ready to see what we’ll be like?”

You’re not even halfway turned to looking at the table behind you and you think you get whiplash turning back toward him. He did-what the-what did he say?

But sure enough, Brock is slipping out of his chair and onto one knee, holding open a small box to show off the most beautiful diamond ring you could imagine.

“You’re going to have to ask me better than that.”You somehow manage to get out.

He grins. “Will you let me replace the construction paper with a real one, YN?”

There’s definitely tears running down your face as you nod, you can’t even remember if you actually ever say the word “yes”, but there’s a ring on your finger and you’re kissing him through the tears and he’s running his thumb against your cheeks when he pulls back. 

Which is when you realize that everyone on the roof are your family and friends. Jess and Lauren sweep you into a hug, alternating comments about how “you’ll see” once you actually start planning and at the same time, squealing about their happiness. Quinn, Petey, and Jake, three of Brock’s teammates, start a ping-pong game with you, bouncing you back and forth between the three of them for a minute, sharing their excitement.

Over their shoulders, you see Brock is grinning at you as he’s wrapped up with your parents. And suddenly, you can’t stand not being next to him; it’s the hardest thing to wrap up with everyone congratulating you and push your way over to Brock.

“I love you.”

He grins back, somehow wider, even though the grin hasn’t left his face since he slid the ring on your finger. “I love you too.”

“No.” You try not to groan in frustration because how is he not getting this? He planned this whole thing for you. He is the world’s most amazing human, your rock, your idol. The person you’ve looked up to most for as long as you could remember. “I just- never mind.” You loop your arms around his waist, sure he won’t understand. “I really love you.”

“I’d hope so.” Brock teases. “Because I’m really serious this time. We might have just been fucking around with the paper, but this one’s for life.”

#brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fanfic #vancouver canucks fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #my hockey fics #hockey and tswift prompts

[not-bumbles-guthrie]

When The Beasts Run Wild

A weird choice for a first tumblr post but alas! I must undermine expectation! If you’re unlucky enough to be interested in reading this, here’s a little description:

In a deserted environment, brutalized by nuclear fallout, we find Cherry. She’s a quiet, nihilistic young woman plagued by the knowledge that she has lived her entire life in the remains of a society that no longer exists. The story follows her as her fellow survivors celebrate the Summer Solstice. Unfortunately, more seems to be at hand as it dawns upon Cherry and her lover that the world might be ending soon.

When it came to the explosion, no one imagined it would lead to the downfall of humanity. It would lead us to a return to order, an acoustic version of the world the humans had created. They would no longer be a part of it. It was a strange concept to grow used to as the days passed, and people were eaten at by the radiation. Of course, there were people that ran to the nuclear hostels, the ones hidden deep in the underbelly of Mother Earth. Yet, they talk of those places being overrun. One person says they were there when the President was found, slumped over. She’d also been killed by the radiation from the second blast. The person who told me this would die too in the coming weeks. Her face was bloodied when she took her last breath, shaky and demure. Then, with a flourish, she sucked in one last time, as hard as she could, and breathed out, “Fin!” While she didn’t have the strength for that exclamation point, I like to imagine her enthusiasm behind it is deserving of the emphasis.

Dogs run free now. If I had to take a guess on who ruled the expanse of land Mother left us, it would be them. She seems to have made them impervious to the air, to the invisible killer. Then again, we believe that she made us impervious to the same air. Perhaps we are just lucky, though. The dogs are destined. Eventually, we will die out. I don’t think the same can be said about the puppies, with their floppy ears and jovial smiles that cut through the particles.

I toss a piece of my flatbread to the yappy pup at my ankle. Her name is Annika, after Queenie’s grandmother who survived the first blast only to die because of the second one. She isn’t my dog; unlike most of the people here, I don’t choose dogs. They find me, visit me, and then they drift away either to their human companions or back to the dust and decay. Mother Earth would’ve blessed me with one if She wanted me to tend to a dog. They are Her chosen successors, after all. I’m merely here to die and be eaten by one of them when the time comes for my body to return to Mother through a dog’s shit that will hopefully make this land fertile once more.

Or maybe it won’t. Who fucking cares? It’s not like there’s a 9 a.m. office job to attend or a peewee football game to cheer on my snot-nosed kids at. There’s the dogs, the open sores, the radiation, and Mother Earth. That’s all. Those are the last things a human will ever know.

I used to ponder what the limits of humanity would be. I thought I would see the end of it, and that ending would be magical. We would finally know what the finality of the human brain was, what its capacity was. However, it’s become quickly apparent that in my eighteen years, nothing will ever show me that capacity. This is the capacity. The height of human invention and creativity? Its own destruction. How poetic. And to think, I was a baby and I missed it all.

It’s weird, living in a sarcophagus of time. I know everything about a culture that is dead. A species that is dead. Soon, I will be dead too. I’ve been told, by a doctor who lives in the camp, that most of us will only make it another 15 years. Maybe I’ll make it longer, he said, because I miraculously survived the first two blasts before the age of five. If I didn’t die then, perhaps I’m meant to last long enough to outlive the cancers and the ARS. Personally, I don’t think he was a very smart doctor. Even I know that’s not how radiation works. Put simply, I will be dead. It’s only a matter of when Mother Earth decides to reclaim me.

Father sits in The Temple when I return with Annika. The growth of what few flowers and vegetables can be produced in this climate surround him, billowing at his feet. His toenails were kissed by the vines of the potatoes, which had grown gnarly like his bunions. Father was a sight for sore eyes, with the fallout aging him past his years. He deserved to have a big, great white beard, but alas. All he had to show for his near two decades of turmoil was a small patch of growth on his face. He no longer had a full head of hair, and the sores on his skull near his neck opened daily with each movement. That’s what filled my vision as I walked towards him, as his head was bowed in prayer.

“Father,” came out soft and trembling. I cleared my throat. No need for that.

“Any news? Has Her Graciousness spoken to you?”

He spoke about Mother with a reverence that no one in the group possessed. He worshipped her. My mouth became dry, and its taste made me nauseated. There was nothing to report. Mother Earth had never spoken to me. She never spoke to him, why would that change with me?

“Yes, Father. She has.”

His eyes widened, pupils dilating as he took in more light. Blue rhinestones. “What did She tell you?”

I glared at Annita, nudging my head to snap back and tell her to kindly fuck off. The stupid animal simply sat there and stared at me. I rolled my eyes. “Stupid girl,” I muttered before looking Father in his eyes. “Mother Earth tells me that we will be safe for the coming Solstice.”

We had no idea if the Summer Solstice was close or not, actually. We assumed, based on the markings Monsignor Karl had kept for the past nineteen years since the first blast knocked out the power grid in the eastern hemisphere. He was the original Keeper, passing on the reins to Ingrid after he passed. It was hard to watch him go, as the cancer overtook him. For the last weeks, he did nothing but bleed from his mouth. Thanks to him, we are able to honor Mother. Kind of.

“That’s a good girl. Thank you, Cherry.”

I nodded in response, bowing at Father, before walking away. Annita followed me, yipping as we made our way to Camp. Ingrid acknowledged me with a demure nod as I passed her. She wore an ornate necklace, one that was found through scavenging when the Monsignor was still alive, that held a long-stopped pocket watch as its pendant. It was the Monsignor. It ran for the first few weeks following the Chernobyl incident, before the battery finally died. It was what helped him keep the time in the first days. Now, Ingrid wore it to simply mark herself as a special one. She could study sun patterns and tell you the approximate time of day, which made her invaluable, especially when it came down to times like the Solstices. These days, though, she seemed to be slipping up more and more. It made sense, given she was always awake when I woke up for my nightly leak. She had to be tired after being up half the night.

“Hey,” I called out before plopping myself down in front of her sundial.

“Hey yourself. Your shadow is fucking up my clock.”

That was all I needed before I was brushing myself off and moving away from Gritty. It was no matter; she was routinely not in the mood to fuck around. “Talk to you later, precious. Perhaps I’ll visit you on your nightly ‘stare at the sky’ session?”

“Fuck you,” came from behind me as I walked away. “Go concoct more lies.”

The last part came out quietly, as a small tease. My body froze up at first, with my back to her, but I could hear her chuckling in the annoying way she would. I flipped her off before turning into the tent that held our food. Dinner, it appeared, was served.

The small feast consisted of grains, including sunflower seeds, and bits of wild strawberry. For the group of ten people, it would barely make us feel full, but it was enough to satisfy the Itch. When your stomach lining is eaten away for so long, even a smidge of food does away with the Itch for a few. It would at least let us sleep until the Sun came up, flooding us with the blessings of Mother. Ingrid sat across from me, kicking at my shins when she caught me staring at her plate, which was empty but for a bit of juice stain from the strawberries.

“Perv,” she said with as much menace as love. Her smirk told me everything.

I rolled my eyes, playing with my ponytail, wrapping it around the ends of my finger. Perv. It rang over and over in my mind. So what? Was how I wanted to respond. I didn’t, though. My throat stopped me. My heart stopped me.

“Thank you for this blessed bounty, Mother Earth,” Father’s voice rang out.

“Thank you, Mother,” we whispered in a low baritone. Our heads were bowed over our empty plates.

“We worship you for saving us, Lover. Thank you for blessing us with eternal servitude to you. We will cleanse your Home, Wife,” Father continued with our heads dipping further towards our empty plates. There was a small clang as my glasses hit the edge of the ceramic. Gritty kicked at me again. I almost giggled.

This was my moment. I knew this. I had practiced this countless times. I raised my head to see the crown of Ingrid’s head, and I stopped for a minute. Her dark hair caught the last rays of the sun, and I was blinded. My voice cracked as I started us all in, singing, “Danke- Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen.”

“Thank you for all the joy you bring,” everyone started in on the second line, holding their hands out to each other.

Miss Fieri grabbed my hand. Her painted red nails scratched at my palm, and the old hole in the corner of her lip caught my eye as I faced her. Her face sagged, and her eyeliner was smudged. It was a miracle she had any. To my right, Monsignor Karl’s son, Vlad, sat though I had to reach out to wrap my palm around his amputated wrist. He smiled as he sang the lines, “Save those lies, darling, don’t explain.” It was strange to think about the fact that Mother blessed him with the stupid mustache the twinkled with as we sat there, singing. Yet, he was too stupid to become the next Keeper. That’s why we have Gritty.

Across from me, Gritty winked at me. She nodded at my hand on Vlad’s stump, and I knew what she was doing. Who’s the perv now? I thought. I relinquished my smile, giving her a disappointed nod. “Get your head out of the gutter,” I mouthed while Queenie fucked up the “Auf wiedersehen” despite the fact that her mother is from Germany. Dumbass. Gritty caught my look towards Queenie, smiling. She flipped her hair, impersonating the prima donna. I held in my laughter, smiling at her. I shook my head again, but this time in appreciation.

Then, I saw Father’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, brows furrowed so that the long spindly hairs were more apparent. His scar across his face was terrifying enough without the expression. I avoided looking him in the eye for a reason. My mouth formed a thin line in response. I bowed my head, and we finished the hymnal for Mother. We let go of each other’s hands to our lips, kissing our hands, and shooting the kisses towards the ground. Oppa and Kyle gave small whoops and hollers as the old woman and the young man hugged each other. I watched them closely, noting the miracle of their friendship.

“Thinking about the time you fucked him?”

“Fuck you, Gritty. It was four years ago.”

“We all know how formative that was for you.”

“You fucked him too. Shut up.”

“You know we’re supposed to fuck him again.”

“Yeah,” I whispered as we walked further from the tent. Oppa and Kyle went their separate ways, with the kind old woman heading to her tent, wrapped in her shawl she swears Stevie gave her. Kyle appeared to be more preoccupied with the new girl we picked up. Her name was Cola. Like the soda. She was his new toy. She was only fifteen, but she told Father she hadn’t lost her virginity yet. We were supposed to give her unto Mother soon because of that. I don’t know why she bothered to stay. I suppose the food alone is worth it, maybe the dogs. She’s only been here a week and she already found a little dachshund to be her companion. She’s taken to calling him Nilla. Gritty and I passed them, and I gave Nilla a little pat on the head as he came up to my ankles and pushed his nose against me.

“Do you think they’ll force us to do it when we hold the Ceremony for her?” I asked once we were out of earshot.

“Probably. Father is known for liking convenience,” She responded quietly. Her tone was melancholic.

We found our way out of the light of the camp fires. I scooped her hand into mine. “That’s true. It’s been too long since the last time.”

“I don’t know why we’re supposed to wait until the Solstice.”

“It’s because it’s spring. Fertility and all that shit.”

“Isn’t sex supposed to be sacred? What does the time period have to do with that?”

“I don’t know, man. Stop asking such stupid questions.” I let go of her hand, picking up a stick instead.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because you don’t want Mother’s babies doesn’t mean you gotta be a dick because I’m asking questions.”

“It’s not that, and you know it, Grit.”

“Then what is it, Cher?”

I rolled my eyes, facing away from her. “It’s easier to just do this shit than think about why it makes no sense.” It was as close of an answer I could give.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it kill you that Mother Earth says it’s just a sacred act but instead we treat it like this fucking parade that happens once a year. Sometimes twice, if Kyle doesn’t get his jizz in us.” Her head was cocked to the side as she studied me. We stopped at the edge of the woods like we always did. We knew no one could see us all the way out here. They just assumed we were playing in the woods, as we had since kids. Not questioning the basis of our existence. I threw the stick into the woods, hearing a small yelp from some animal. Probably a cat, from the sound. “I just…” I plopped on the ground next to a rock, resting my elbow against it. “It’s easier to not think about it instead of what we can’t do.”

“What is it that you want to do?”

“You know what I want to do,” I fire back.

Her mouth snapped shut. She came and sat down next to me. “You’re the only one stopping that from happening.”

“Existentialism doesn’t work when you live in a nuclear wasteland,” I responded as she put her head on my shoulder. “You’re looking for trouble,” I whisper as her hair tickles my ear.

“Maybe I am.” She shifted so her bicep rubbed mine. “Though, I suppose, you’re looking for it too.”

I stared out ahead of me, looking at the stars that peaked up from the line of mountains. The sun was sinking fast, so only a small blue line spread across the sky, and it only served to continue to illuminate the stars. They were twinkling, like the look in Ingrid’s eye or the way the last rays bounced off her pendant. I wanted to sink into the folds of her essence, even if that was the exact trouble she was getting me into. Her cheekbones were highlighted in the rising moonlight, eyes curled up in a smile. I flicked her black hair behind her shoulder, holding it close to my nose for a brief moment. Beauty incarnate.

“You’re right.” I sighed as I sat back to look her in the eye. “I don’t understand why things got so twisted around here, but they did. Perhaps Mother wants it that way. I can’t tell. She doesn’t speak to me. But you knew that, didn’t you?” I joked, tugging on the braid in her hair.

She smiled, poking my shoulder. “Yes. Perhaps She doesn’t exist at all, have you thought of that?”

My eyes widened, and I almost looked behind me to make sure no one heard her. “That’s not true, and you know it. Why else are we here?”

“Pure chance. Luck. Destiny.” She moved closer to me; her breath fanned over my face. “Have you considered why we’re here?”

I sat back, sitting upright. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Mother exists. Nietzche was right, but Mother isn’t God.”

“I think Father killed her, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“The words have been twisted. The principles have been twisted. Shit, we worship the Earth because of some age old religion that ruled the before times. Wake up, Cherry.”

We weren’t close to each other anymore. We both sat upright, rod straight. Her dark, arched brows captured my attention and I stared at them as she stared at the plains of my face. “It’s not like you and I can do anything to change that. Father rules over us, protects us. At least we have food. At least we’re living in the meantime.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be here for long.”

“I-” I stuttered, stopping. “Grit, what are you on?”

Her eyes were serious. Their brown expanse was narrowed for the first time in a long time. They were hard, determined to be taken for reality. She looked practically possessed. Her dark eyes were almost black. She didn’t speak for a moment. “Ingrid, please, tell me.”

The lost, yet determined, look in her eyes faded and she grabbed my chin, pointing my head towards the sky. “You see all those stars?” I made a noise to affirm yes. “Do you see that green one? Over to the left of the moon?” I made another noise. “That’s a new star. I don’t believe it to be a star, though.”

She let go of me, though her hand held my face still. “Oh,” is all I said. The world came together like a puzzle piece at that moment. That was why she was being so careless as of late. That’s why we were here now.

“You’re going to kiss me before the world ends, right?” I asked in a petite voice that almost broke. It was the only thing I thought of as it occurred to me that my prediction would be coming true sooner than I thought.

It was then that she tucked her hands into the base of my ponytail, anchoring herself to me as she pulled me forward to touch her lips to mine. They tasted of cherry chapstick, something she must have collected when she went out exploring to the local abandoned gas station a few days ago. My tongue instinctively reached out for a better taste, and she let me in. It was then that my hands were all over here, and she kissed me harder.

A week passed, and the Ceremony was upon us. Cola was going to be the star of the show. She was dressed in a red bridesmaid dress we found on one of the group explorations we went on. It fit her perfectly, and coupled with the dandelions in her curly red hair, she was fit to be the Solstice Queen. Kyle was also dressed in his suit that he’d worn for the past two years. Ingrid sat in front of her sun dial, dressed in her normal pair of jeans and a t shirt with holes. She couldn’t be convinced to dress up. I, however, was in a new dress Father had given me. It was a wedding dress like Princess Di’s. It was found in a thrift store, and he had held onto it for this Solstice celebration. It was poofy, and I was forced to wear the headpiece with it. I looked like a sullen bride, with my stained face and ratty hair. Queenie dyed my lips red with leftover strawberry juice. Gritty told me I looked like a pig to slaughter. She was probably right.

“Cherry,” Father called out in his quiet tone. “Come ‘ere.”

I shuffled towards him, passing Kyle and Cola, who stood whispering and touching each other. “Yes, Father?”

The sun was high in the sky, forcing Father to cover his eyes. “Will you get Ingrid in her dress? I know you two are close.” When he saw the light leave my eyes, he continued, “We have to prepare for our Solstice Queen’s first Outing.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I’m sure you can persuade her,” he said with a smirk.

My heart levitated, escaping my ribcage. I looked across the field, over Father’s shoulder, and made eye contact with Gritty. She was looking straight at me with a similar expression to the other night when she revealed to me the nature of the future.

“Yes, Father.”

I passed by Ingrid, nudging her shoulder with mine as I grabbed onto her and forced her to follow me. “Get your fucking dress on,” I mumbled as I led her to her tent.

“He knows, doesn’t he?”

“Probably. He’s acting funny.”

“How would he know?”

“You don’t exactly hide it.”

“Neither do you. You drool in my presence.”

I glared at her. “Bitch.”

“It’s just the truth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get dressed. It’s almost twelve. We have to get this show on the road.”

“Wow jeez can’t wait.” Her voice was saccharine.

I didn’t respond. I just waited for her to get into her flowy gown. It was peach colored, and it made her look washed out. Her hair stood out, at least. I played with the ends of it after I helped zip her into the dress. “You look great,” I said in an aimless attempt at flirting.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

It was a miracle she was here. Ingrid had the magical way of being everything all at once. She made me want to relive the artifacts of the past, to dive into that sarcophagus. It hurt knowing that the world was taking that away. It had taken away so much. Mother had taken away so much. I suppose someone has to pay for the sins of the humans past, but I didn’t imagine it would be me. The visceral part of me, in my heart, felt the pain of this realization. I was the penance for disrespecting Mother. This was my service. This was why we did the Solstice Outings. This was why Kyle, Father, and Vlad and the rest of them could fuck whoever whenever. It was why they called it fucking for them instead of an Outing for us. It felt wrong to call what me and Gritty did fucking. It wasn’t that. It was something sweeter, less one-sided. Then again, what we did is the sin that brought us to this aftermath in the first place.

“Is this the price we pay?” I asked as I braided her hair. “Forever damned to a lack of pleasure and to death?”

“I suppose.” She sighed, looking disjointed though connected to what I was saying. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We choose it to be.”

“There you go with existentialism again.”

“It’s not philosophy, my dear. It’s how things are.”

“I didn’t ask to be left to this world. To be forced into this stupid shit.”

“No, you didn’t. But you worship the people, the men, who made it this way.”

“So do you.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

I let go of her last braid, letting it come undone. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“What does being free mean to you, Cherry?”

“What are you? A cheesy sitcom? Let’s go.”

I walked out of the tent without looking back. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

The Ceremony lacked the pomp and circumstance that many of past Ceremonies would have had. There weren’t many flowers we cultivated beyond weeds. We made a bed out of hay, grass, and these pesky flowers. Ingrid and I held onto Cola as we walked her into the circle of people, which consisted of our tribe. Father stood at the head of the pack, with Kyle standing next to him and Oppa on the other side. She was the eldest in our bunch, so she got to be on his right hand side while Kyle stood on the left. Everyone hummed the Hymnal, while sometimes people sang a few of the words.

Danke shoen, darling. Danke schoen...

I wore the veil in front of my face while Gritty and Cola bowed their heads. Cola was only fifteen, from the looks of her, and I felt a pang in my heart as I remembered that Kyle was two years older than me. He was twenty. The difference sat in the pit of my stomach, sickening me, as Cola smiled so sweetly at him. We were by the bed of flowers now. The humming had stopped. She was pure, still. She was worth worshipping. That would change once this was over. She’d be expected to work the fields, collect things. She’d become withered and worn like the rest of us. She was no stranger to hard work, I knew that. She had survived for this long on her own when her mother died a few months ago. Her innocence was simply so palatable in this moment. Though, perhaps that was the problem. I boiled her down to this ball of naivety when she probably had seen more shit in her lifetime than I had. She was nomadic, built with “street smarts” as they used to call it. She was human. That was why the disgust laid heavy on me.

Father put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. He smiled in his robes, which were really just shawls we found and blessed him with. He stood with a glint in his eye as he spoke.  “Thank you, everyone. Mother Earth has blessed us with a new addition, and may we bless her unto the Earth and manifest Her bounty.”

We nodded, some people making a few grunts in affirmation. Gritty stood stoic, unwilling to do anything more than bow her head. I saw out of the corner of my eye a droplet fall from her face to the floor.

“Cola, darling, step away from your sisters and lay yourself upon our Mother.”

The human stepped forward, kneeling before Father, reaching up to touch the top of his toes from a praying position, before she moved to lay on her chest. From there, Kyle stepped forward, bowing to Father, and then he bent down to unzip Cola’s dress. The red peeled back to reveal white. It was like reverse bleeding. Instead of finding the depth of a person, we were finding the outer shell. Perhaps that was how one got through this.

From there, she was stripped. The dress fell from her chest, revealing her budding breasts, before Kyle pulled it down and off of her, revealing her naked body to the rest of us. He touched her breasts, cupping them roughly, before biting at them. She laid there still, waiting for it to be over. Or at least that’s what I presumed. She didn’t act enthused. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to be there, to pleasure him. Everyone started humming, though not the Hymnal. A different song.

I made it through the wilderness,

Somehow I made it through.

Thankfully, we didn’t sing the lyrics. We hummed. We hummed louder when she started to groan in pain. We hummed even louder when he covered her mouth. We hummed louder still when he finished. We stopped when she sat up. She covered herself again, walking to join us again. She had given herself unto the Earth.

“She gave herself unto him,” Gritty whispered.

I didn’t respond. The sun shined in my eyes, blinding me, as we walked away. Kyle wouldn’t be ready again for another five hours or so, leaving us to tend to Cola before it was my turn. Then, we would turn in for the night before it was Ingrid’s turn in the morning.

It was strange, having an appointment for something like this. It made it better, I suppose, than being shocked by it. Cola wiped at her eyes as we went to Ingrid’s tent. I offered her a shoulder, wrapping an arm around her as we all piled onto Gritty’s cot.

When the sun started to set, we were woken from our nap. Father stood at the opening of the tent. His hands rested on his hips, making dual triangles. His face read of disappointment.

“You silly girls,” he said with a jovial smile, the disappointment fading. “You know it’s inappropriate to sleep together.”

“Sorry, Father,” I started as Cola started to wake up next to me.

“Shut up,” his voice came out hard. He softened as he said, “Just don’t do it again, okay?” though he looked to Cola, not me.

“Sorry, Father,” she said quietly.

“Good girl,” he said back before walking away.

Funny how easy it is to become a pet if you let yourself. Though that was what Gritty was talking about. I chose not to judge Cola because of this.

We got up, picking at each other to make each other primed for another Outing. Gritty fixed my hair, sneaking a small kiss on the cheek before the tent door opened and Oppa came in.

“Let’s go, girls. There’s a shooting comet we see coming our way across the sky. We want to watch it when the sun goes down.”

Gritty and I looked towards each other, and she smiled. My Outing was on a schedule. My life was on a schedule. We knew what this meant. I looked Oppa in the eye. “I’m coming!” It came out happy, bright. It was filled with the last squeeze of life from my lemon.

I left the tent in a flourish. This was it. This was the end. I felt the joy buried beneath me come undone. The string has been cut! I am free. I walk quickly, with Cola and Gritty on either side of me.

“You’ve never looked so excited to be fucked like a stuffed pig,” She teased me quietly.

I looked over to her as we walked to the tune of the Hymnal. “It doesn't have to be like this, remember?” I smiled wide, aware that I looked a little unhinged.

“Yes, you’re right,” she whispered before I stepped away and kneeled down. I didn’t bother to touch the toes of Father before I laid down. In fact, I reached behind me and started to work my zipper down. Kyle murmured, “I got it,” but I didn’t listen to him. His hand stood close to mine as the zipper was worked down. The fabric billowed around me, squishy as I worked my way out of it.

“Cherry, this isn’t how the Outing goes,” he whispered quietly as Father stared down at us.

I didn’t respond. I finished my way out of the dress. I stood up, stepped out of it, and looked Gritty in the eyes. I was naked. Exposed. The stars were looking upon me, as was everyone else. I chose this. It was then that a hand pushed me down, hard, onto my knees. I saw Gritty freeze up, and Cola held onto her harder.

“Cherry,” Father’s voice came out cold. “This is not how the Outing is done.” He pushed me back onto the bed of growth. “Have your way, Kyle,” he said as I laid there, spread out like a plate of hors de o’deauvrs. The circle began to sing.

My fear is fading fast

Been saving it all for you

He bit me, ate my skin, before he fucked me. It was a blip in time. I looked towards the green star, the thing that was coming to destroy us. It was beautiful. I saw life in it. I saw the beauty in all things. I forgot that there was a boy fucking me, brutalizing me, making me his meal. His object. I didn’t care. I wasn’t his. I was this star’s. I was death impending. I was free.

When he was done, I didn’t wait. I plopped upright and walked away naked, forgetting the stupid costume. I wrapped an arm around Gritty’s waist before taking her hand and running off into the night. My bare feet pounded across the wasteland’s floor. The star was coming closer. It would be here soon. I knew this chapter was coming to a close. I was going to end it with her.

We made our way to the edge of the forest.

“Can I unzip you?” I asked Ingrid.

She nodded, smiling, as she turned around and pulled her elegant hair towards her front. It twinkled and wrinkled down her breasts. She was elegance, the form of death that I least expected. I pulled her close and kissed her, enveloping myself in her the way I needed to a week ago. I heard the sounds from the camp as the sun disappeared but the star came closer and illuminated the expanse of earth. I paid them no mind as I danced with Ingrid. Eventually, we became dizzy and fell.

Her hand laid on my bicep, and mine on hers. We stared up to the sky as we had a week ago when we kissed for the first time. The green of the meteor shooting towards us blinded me, but I kept my eyes open. I started to sing quietly as Ingrid’s fingers played at my skin, touching me. “Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen. Thank you for walks down Lover's Lane.”

My voice was awkward, and I didn’t sing in tune. Ingrid rolled into me all the same, shielding herself from the green glow. I wrapped her hair around my finger. This was death. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She was who I wanted to die with.

“This is what free means to me,” I whispered as she continued to hum the song, taking it for her own.

I could see the details of the rock now. The edges were curved, like the indents of her body. My heart left its cage. It floated above me, blocking out the death rock. This was what was coming to claim me. It sung the song of my soul, repeating back to me the song I had just been singing. It was mine. This was my choice.

The green became more intense. She wrapped herself closer to me. My heart sung louder. This was it. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

#lgbtq #gay #lgbtq romance #romance #apocalypse #chernobyl #end of the world #short story #my writing #creative writing

[martykatewrites]

The Sandstorm

Roma woke to the smell of meat cooking and the savory odor made her mouth water. She rose from her cot and ran her fingers through her short blond curls.

Ardeth was sitting under the awning, roasting a small hare. He looked up at her and smiled. "Have some dates," he said, "This hare should be done soon. I've made some tea but we don't have any sugar, do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind. But how...?"

"Have you forgotten what my father taught you? The desert is alive and now is the time when animals come out of their burrows to hunt and find food. I used my sling to kill the hare and found a dead tree and broke off the branches for firewood. The tea I made with the alcohol stove you brought along." If his smile was a little smug, she knew he was showing off and didn't mind-- too much.

"You're hired. I'm going to have some tea; dates are too sweet; I need something to wash them down with."

The hare was crisp on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside. Along with the dates, tea, and flatbread they had a good meal and were ready to travel. Ardeth checked to make sure the lead lines were secure for the pack camels then they mounted their own and began the night's journey.

It was still hot but had cooled down, a small breeze ruffled her curls cooling off the back of her neck. Ardeth was wearing his turban—how did he manage to stay cool in his robes? She had grown up in Egypt but at times the heat seemed to overwhelm her. It had been hot in Deir El Medina but it was not like this, not like the miles of sand that stretched before them.

Limestone cliffs lined the river in places and the heat seemed to reflect off them. In some places, they were dotted with caves, and she knew a few might contain tombs that had been carved in ancient times. She would like a chance to explore this place but not now.

Ardeth was trying to keep her mind occupied so she would not think of the burden they were carrying. He was pointing out Orion--the stars that made up the belt aligned exactly with the three pyramids of Giza.

"I knew that," she said irritably but tried to adopt a more conciliatory tone, "I always liked the story of the goddess Nut who gave birth to the sun every morning, how it was symbolic of the daily rebirth of the pharaoh. My favorite tomb decoration was always Nut the sky goddess surrounded by stars. How they painted the ceilings in the tombs has always amazed me."

"Well, look up and you can see that same sky." She did as he said and saw a myriad of stars, and the Milky Way overhead; it made her gasp in wonder.

"This is more beautiful than Deir El Medina," she said as she gazed at the sight surrounding her.  I used to go out and just stare at the stars, the sky was more beautiful than Cairo or even Luxor."

They continued to ride, not saying anything or needing to, until he broke the silence, saying, "Who is that archaeologist who is opening a tomb in the Valley?"

"Howard Carter? When I was in town, I heard that Lacau had come from Cairo to supervise the opening. Carter is an arrogant bastard, I'm sure he's going to give him the least amount of cooperation that he can. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe what he is doing is not such a good thing, maybe there are things in there that should not see the light of day."

"I understand, but better the archaeologists than the looters. I don't believe in curses, remember? And I would give anything to see the contents of that tomb. There are years of conservation ahead if the tomb contains most of its contents before it can be put in the Egyptian museum. I don't see how there is a curse, this is a gift that will enable us to finally see what a pharaoh's tomb looked like. If it's not empty that is."

"Are you curious about what we might be carrying for your father?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean I don't know—I'm afraid to know. Do I believe we are carrying something that might be evil, or have evil attached—maybe, but if that is true I would prefer to not know. I just want to get this stuff to Cairo and be rid of it. If he is doing something illegal, which I am afraid he is, he has made me an accessory and I don't like it. Can we please not talk about it anymore? Talking about curses during the day is one thing, but at night it frightens me."

"You are as superstitious as an Egyptian," he laughed and gave his camel a light tap. They rode until the night gave way to the colors of the desert dawn. The sky was tinted pink and gold when Ardeth called a halt.

"Why must we stop now?" she complained, "I want to get to Minya as quickly as I can and catch the boat to Cairo. It will be cool for an hour or more."

"All the more reason to stop," he replied, "I know you have worked in the heat of Deir El Medina, but you are not accustomed to the ways of the Sahara. It is best to stop now while it is still cool, we can eat and then get to sleep before the hottest part of the day begins. I wish there were some ruins we could take shelter in, but there aren't any." He raised his hand as she started to object, "Please listen to me, Roma, you will find out that I am right."

She dismounted from her camel, grumbling, but helped him set up the tent and hobble the camels. He brewed some of his strong tea and they breakfasted on flatbread and dates. It was too early for either to be very hungry, they would have their main meal when they woke.

Perhaps it was the heat that gave her the dream. She found herself in Deir El Medina with her father, looking for caches that the tomb robbers had left behind. She was about to lift a rock where she thought she had caught a glimpse of gold underneath when it was no longer her father by her side, but a man with a lion's head and claws. She began to run for her life because she knew if the lion-man caught her it would kill her and devour her.

Just as soon as she felt the hot breath on the back of her neck she woke, shaking violently. She put her hand over her heart to try to stop its rapid beating, taking deep breaths as she tried to clear her head.

It was no use trying to go back to sleep, she decided, at least not for now. She looked over to where Ardeth lay peacefully sleeping, why had he not wakened? The only thing she could think of was that she had to get out of the tent, the air was too close inside its dark interior.

Carefully she raised the tent flap and stepped outside, the hot sands burning her bare feet. She looked around, looking for what she did not know. The only things to see were only the hobbled camels trying to get what shelter they could from the tent's awning.

"What are you doing?" she heard Ardeth's voice behind her, "You need to come back into the tent."

"Not yet," she replied, "I can't," she finished, the helpless and resigned tone in her voice concerned him.

"Did you have another nightmare?" he asked and she nodded, "How often does this happen?"

"I need a cigarette," she told him, "And to answer your question, I almost never have them. It's like all my fears about Father are manifesting in my dreams. I don't care how tired I get tonight; I can't bear to go back to sleep."

He sighed, clearly not happy but understanding. "I am sorry this is happening to you. Let us sit for a while and maybe you can calm yourself enough to go back to sleep. It's too early for us to start, sunset is still some hours away. Maybe when we get to Cairo all of this will stop and you will be your old self again."

He sat with her, patient and understanding, for almost an hour then insisted she try to sleep again.

The heat was affecting her and sleep proved elusive. The best she could manage was to lie on her cot and just rest. Eventually, sleep returned and this time she had no dreams, just blessed unconsciousness.

She did not wake easily as she had the previous morning. Ardeth was shaking her, saying, "Come now, wake up, you were so eager to on your way yet you do not want to get up. Breakfast is ready and we must get going soon."

"Can't we wait a day?" she moaned although she already knew the answer. "I am so tired."

"Drink some tea and eat. You will feel better once we get going."

After their meal, she helped take down the tent and pack the camels. He offered to do it himself but the tent required two people to take it down and put it up. They packed it on one of the pack camels, along with the waterskin.

He checked the amount of water in the bag they were using. "Are you drinking enough? I thought we should have used more."

"I fill my canteen every day and drink what I put in it. I know how much water I need to drink. I do not dare become dehydrated, that would be dangerous. I do not know the Sahara, but I know how to live in hot weather."

It seemed to start innocently enough. A light breeze started blowing, gently ruffling the surface of the sand. Then the wind picked up speed and the expression on Ardeth's face told her that something was wrong.

"Sandstorm, a sandstorm is coming. We must head to the cliffs and find a cave to shelter in if we can, or at least an outcropping we can hide behind."

"I thought sandstorm season was at least a month off!"

"You can tell that to the winds that will be blowing the sand. Come, if we hurry, we will not get caught in it."

The pack camels could only go so quickly, but even they seemed to sense the urgency of their situation. Fortunately, the limestone cliffs were closer than they seemed and the time was just adequate enough to search for an opening large enough to admit them and their camels.

"Look, Ardeth," she pointed to a large opening that loomed just ahead of them, "Is that a cave or just a place in the cliff that has worn away?"

"It looks like it could be a cave, and a good-sized one that will fit us and the camels, come on." She followed as he hurried towards it.

There was indeed a large opening in the face of the cliff, but something made her pull back when she saw it.

He turned around and looked at her, "What is wrong with you, we need to take shelter now."

"This is not a cave," she said, "Look, can you not see it, this stone was worked. This is man-made, it was not carved by water, wind, or erosion."

"It does not matter," he said, "The opening is wide enough for us and the camels, we must go in, now." He lit a lantern and entered their shelter.

She followed him in with great reluctance. As she had suspected, this was no accident of nature. They followed down a large corridor of stone that bore the marks of many chisels. Whoever had carved it had intended to create a large passageway, but for what?

The corridor ended in a large chamber. She took her electric torch from her saddlebag and shone it around the walls, then cast the light down so she could see what was on the floor.

"Oh my god," she said, "What is this place?"

#Egypt #sandstorm #camels #Ardeth #The Mummy #tomb #secret tomb

[thatsouthernanthem]

I uh, got inspired to write something soft and baby-centric for Kassandra and Brasidas. It’s just...mostly an exercise to get back into the brainwaves of these babes. Anyway: 

title: for we are bound by symmetry  pairing: braisdas/kassandra characters: brasidas, kassandra, alexios, ocs, a baby

He’s enamored before he ever meets them. All he can feel is the swell of his wife’s belly, the push of a foot under the skin, the ripple of a flip when the child grows restless. All he knows is the groan of Kassandra’s discomfort as she presses her fingers into her lower back, desperately trying to stretch her spine; the tossing and turning as she tries to get comfortable now, in her last months of pregnancy. 

He’s never been happier. 

There are moments in his life, when he looks at the farm, at the helots turned mothakes that he trained in Messenia, on that fool’s errand of a mission in Amphipolis, that he is certain he should have died there. It’s a festering seed in the pit of his stomach that whispers to him as he surveys the good in his life, at the men and families around him in Helot Hills, that he helped free, a cold voice that tells him: you should be dead. Deimos wielded your spear and it should have been your end.

Even so, the flash of Kassandra’s smile, the murmur of love against his neck as she curls as close as she can in their bed, separated only by the growing child inside of her. Her hands chase away his fears, his worries, running them along his arms. “You’ve a tan,” she whispers, grinning at the swath of skin paler than the rest, where his chiton covered him. “A true farmer.”

He never thought he’d be anything but a soldier. He thought he would live and die for Sparta, and yet, this woman beside him showed him a world that was better: a world in which he could love, freely, and be loved in return. Where he could reap the benefits of what he literally sows: beans, pomegranates, wheat, vegetables. Where the people who work for him call him philoi, not kyrios. 

Overcome and unable to say what he means, Brasidas drags Kassandra closer, his hand possessive at her hip, his thumb stroking the swell of her stomach, and he kisses her with everything he has in him. 

“You should be inside,” Brasidas is telling his wife as he leans against the hoe he’s struck into the earth. He squints at her, the sun blinding and he refusing to wear a hat. Kassandra does, though, her braid swept to the side and the wide-brim of the straw hat shading her face. She’s tanner too, now, after months of readying and planting and perfecting the farm’s landscape. Sweat drips down her neck, another reminder of Lakonia’s scorching summers and he frowns as she shakes her head. 

“I’m waiting for Alexios,” she replies, her hand resting against her stomach and he can’t help himself--he reaches forward and covers her hand, his smile soft as their child presses against them. Kassandra turns her hand, capturing his fingers with her own. “He sent word earlier that he was coming by. I think he’ll be heading out on the Adrestia again soon.”

Brasidas nods, humming his agreement. Alexios has withdrawn from them again, as he often does before turning to the Adrestia in the middle of the night and asking to be taken away. He’d demand, Brasidas is sure, if Odessa would be swayed by that sort of talk. But the woman merely stares the boy down, and he relents. 

Now, if only Brasidas could master this sway over Alexios. It would save the time spent in awkward, stilted silences or the arguing. He tries, so hard, for Kassandra, but there is still an undercurrent of distrust between the two men--and who can blame them? For Brasidas, he faces his near death in the guise of brother-in-law, and for Alexios, Brasidas is a constant reminder of what if. 

He’s saved from answering, and pulled from his own mind as a figure appears on the road and the workers call out to him in greeting. Kassandra smiles, joy and relief radiating from her as it always does when she spies her brother. Brasidas can’t help but smile at her in return, her joy infectious. 

Alexios looks grim as he comes closer, his arms full of a bundle that Brasidas cannot discern from here, but Kassandra stiffens as her brother’s steps bring him forward. Then, with sudden clarity, Brasidas realizes: the bundle is moving, squalling. 

A baby. 

Alexios’ face is tight with anger, but his hands are gentle as he steps up to them, as he presses the bundle into his sister’s arms, pressing closer to kiss her cheek. There are words murmured between the siblings but Brasidas cannot hear them, and possibly, he would not hear them, for he is enamored and worried and terrified as he takes a look at the baby pressed into his wife’s arms. 

She is tiny, her little tan face reddened with the force of her cries, hunger and fear in every single wail she produces. Kassandra rearranges her, cradling her close and shushing her in a way that seems to frighten and shock her but she continues, bouncing slightly to calm the child. 

“Where?” Brasidas croaks, his finger brushing the tiny foot that has escaped the blanket she’s wrapped in. It’s softer than the lambs he raises, softer than silk on their bed. His heart skips a few beats. 

Alexios glances at his sister and then back to Brasidas, his jaw tight. “Let’s go inside. It’s hot and she’s uncomfortable.” 

Leaving the hoe struck into the ground, he follows Alexios in, stopping to let Kassandra pass before him, watching as she stares down at the infant in her arms, finally quieting when she lets the baby suckle at her pinky. His mind is blank, shocked perhaps, at the gift his brother-in-law has given them. 

Because, he already knows, staring at Kassandra as she lifts her gaze to his, that this child will be theirs, just like the one growing in her belly. 

She settles on the kline, murmuring to the child quiet nothings and Brasidas, at a lack of what to do next, moves into the kitchen, toward where he knows the former helot Arisbe will be. Maybe she’ll know how to comfort a hungry child. 

And it’ll give Alexios a moment to unclench. Perhaps it will be easier for him to tell the story of how he came to possess an infant if only his sister is there in the room. 

Arisbe is kneading dough for flatbread when he walks in, humming a tune he’s not heard before. She glances up at him as he walks in and he can see the process of her mind run across her wrinkled face: deference for her kyrios, remembering she is free and that Brasidas is not her master, then the schooling of her face into a smile that is warm and true. He wishes she could just skip to the end every time but knows the woman spent most of her life a slave and that the undoing of that torment may never happen. 

“Brasidas,” she murmurs, reaching for some spices to sprinkle across the dough before folding them in. “No snacking, I’m making dinner.” 

He grins at her, all of the tension and worry he holds within him disappearing at her joking tone. “Ah, if I were to snack, Arisbe, I’d do it in the fields where you cannot see me.”

She tsks at him, narrowing her eyes as her gaze flits over his face. “You’re burnt. You should wear a hat.” 

A constant battle, one he will undoubtedly lose one day, with both Arisbe and Kassandra on his case. But it can wait for today. There’s no easy way to ask, so he goes for it: “Arisbe, how does one feed a newborn when their mother is not around?”

Panic fills her eyes and then leaves as she rounds on him. “I assume this is not about Kassandra. I doubt you’d be standing here as you are if something had happened.”

“No! No, I don’t know what happened, but Alexios found--”

A cry rises from the andron, half explaining the situation for him. Arisbe moves to a lower shelf, pulling out a pitcher of goat’s milk from the morning’s chores. She fills a small cup and gestures for him to follow her. 

In the other room, only the baby makes noise. Kassandra is staring at her brother with a heat in her eyes that would spell out certain doom for anyone else. Alexios keeps her stare within his, his eyes filled with the cold fury that is his constant companion. The cold fury that turned him into Deimos, the cold fury that still haunts Brasidas’ nightmares at times. He shudders, moving to the side as Arisbe steps between the siblings, reaching for the child. 

Kassandra’s arms tighten instinctively around the babe, but Arisbe is resolute, tugging the child from her arms, rearranging the baby in her own as she sits on a chair, bringing the cup of milk up to the baby’s lips. It’s a messy, slow process, but the child quiets, gulping down little bits at a time. Arisbe glances up at Kassandra, then down at the swell of her belly. “You’ll be able to feed her yourself if you wish. I give it a day, maybe, before your body reacts to the cries of the baby, and readies itself to feed her.”

Her face pales even as Kassandra nods. His wife reaches for him, and Brasidas sits as close as he can to her, their legs pressed tight against each other’s. “Alexios found her,” she begins, her hand closing on his, “at the Taygetos foothills.”

Abandoned. Left for the elements. There’s plenty of reasons why any Spartan family may do so: deformity, too many mouths to feed, simply because she is a girl. Plenty of reasons and none of them good enough. Anger boils his blood, and when he makes eye contact with Alexios, the younger man almost flinches--a mere tightening of the skin around his eyes, but that is enough. 

“Despicable,” Brasidas spits, his voice harsh. It startles the baby, who hiccups and wails, and earns him a deserving glare from Arisbe. He aches to move, to stand and find whoever did this, to make it right, but Kassandra’s hand keeps him still. “We haven’t fucking changed a thing, have we?”

Kassandra moves her hand to his neck, a solid and comforting presence as she strokes his hair, the braid that marks him Spartan. A mark he wants to be rid of at this moment. She reaches her other hand out for Alexios, and he takes it, immediately, his hesitation only showing when she drags him closer to the pair of them on the kline. His hesitation to be nearer to Brasidas. 

“We will take her in?” Her voice lilts, in a question. 

“Of course,” Brasidas nearly snarls, his hands tight on his knees. 

In front of them Alexios sags, slightly, as if he was worried he’d have to find someone else to take the child. His eyes train on the baby, then out the window. “I’m setting sail in two days.”

“I know,” Kassandra murmurs. “I mean, I knew it would come soon.” She falls silent, fiddling with Brasidas’ hair before leaning into her husband. “At least we are prepared. You have built a bed for our child, and now we can use it for this one. We have cloths and blankets. Alexios--”

He turns to her, the cold rage in his eyes gone and replaced with a sadness that makes Brasidas shiver. Kassandra’s lips thin into a straight line before she pushes herself up from the kline to wrap her arms around her brother. He grips the back of her peplos immediately--his actions for his sister always immediate and without hesitation, as if he’s worried any pause will cause her to forsake him. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, just loud enough for Brasidas to hear. “For bringing her to us. She will be loved, I swear to you.”

Alexios’ answer is muffled in his sister’s clothing, but his fingers tighten at her back before pulling away and walking straight out the door. Through the window, Brasidas can see his sagging shoulders as he makes his way across the fields toward the little house they made him, the little house he calls home. 

Inside his own home, Brasidas watches as Kassandra takes the now silent baby from Arisbe, carefully arranging her in her arms. He watches as her finger strokes the bridge of the tiny nose, smoothing out the wrinkled brow. “She’s tiny,” she murmurs, moving to sit beside Brasidas again. “Perhaps they found her wanting in that regard.”

Anger, quick as lightning, flashes through him again. He takes a deep, calming breath in through his nose, eyes closed. They open again in a near panic when Kassandra presses the bundle into his arms and his breath catches when the baby opens her eyes to blink up at him. Her hair is wispy, golden--rare in Sparta where dark hair and eyes are readily found. Her eyes are dark blue, but Brasidas knows that may change--he’s seen enough barn kittens born in the last two years to know that, let alone his workers’ children. 

“What will we call her?” He whispers, smitten as the baby brings her tiny fist to her mouth, sucking on it. 

Kassandra hums, her hand smoothing her peplos over her belly. Idly Brasidas realizes they’re alone, that Arisbe has disappeared. “Well,” his wife murmurs, “we have names picked for this one, and that only took us the last four months to decide. So I assume we’ll have a name for her in the next year?” 

Grinning, Brasidas lifts the baby onto his shoulder, patting her back like he’s seen the women on the farm do. It feels right--it fills him with warmth that threatens to burst out of him. He can’t stop smiling. “Phaedra, I think.”

“Kretan princess, daughter of Minos, wife of Theseus,” Kassandra recites, then rolls her eyes at Brasidas’ raised brow. “Barnabas is rubbing off on me.” She falls silent for a moment, then: “Phaidros. It fits. She is a brightness, will be.”

Leaning forward, Brasidas kisses Kassandra, sharp and quick, careful not to jostle the child--Phaedra--at his shoulder. “Can we handle two children at once?”

“We’ll have to,” she shrugs. “Your newest strategic puzzle, strategos. Keeping two children and a farm happy.”

Carefully, he rises, walking toward the bedroom off the andron, the one he and Kassandra have made their own. He lowers Phaedra into the cradle he built, the wood sturdy and safe for her. She looks tinier in the bed--maybe with a sibling, she will look safer. Turning, he smiles tiredly at Kassandra. “And a wife. Keeping two children, a farm, and my wife happy.”

“That one is easy,” she moves into the room, grabbing his hand and placing it against her belly where his child stretches under her skin. “Just be you, strategos, and I am delighted.”

#homestead au #kassidas #kassandra x brasidas #brasidas/kassandra #kassandra #brasidas #ac odyssey #ac odyssey fanfic #my stuff #writing #oh man it's weird posting again lol #i hope y'all enjoy this random one shot #a week later kass gives birth to sophia #and welp there's the not twins

[foreverevanescent]

Nightmare from the Past (Chapter 4)

Nightmare from the Past (Chapter 4)

           “So wait, you and Danielle spent two hours after school in the library talking about some comic book?” Clover asked, with Sam nodding with her face covered in a deep blush and a love-struck smile. Clover was driving Sam to her date with James at his apartment with Alex sitting next to her in the front.

           “Yeah, since we were both there, Danielle decided to move our study date to after school, and it was amazing. We spent two hours together, and I was even able to talk to her…sort of,” Sam explained, holding the Demon Slayer manga with her arms close to her chest as if it was the most valuable item she ever owned.

           “That’s great Sammy, you’re making progress. It’s only a matter of time before you’re talking about your day in a nice little apartment while you two are waiting until after college to get married,” Alex responded, leaving Sam and Clover in a state of surprise.

           “How…did you know that’s what I’ve been wanting for a relationship with Danielle?” Sam asked, hoping that what she was thinking wasn’t the answer.

           “You talk really loudly in your sleep, and cover your pillow in a lot of drool,” Alex admitted, scratching the back of her neck while chuckling. Clover actually managed to hold in her laughter and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

           “Anyway, it’s really cool that you’re actually able to say something to her as opposed to hiding behind your purse. Now…you have to go with James,” Clover said with a grimace that matched Sam’s.

           “I know. God, this is one of the worse things Jerry ever had me do,” Sam grumbled to herself in the back seat of the car, lightly banging her head on the headrest of the chair. A few minutes later, they arrived at the apartment complex where James lived. It was a very lowkey apartment complex, which was painted beige with white patio fences, and each building was only three stories high each.

           “This is where he lives?” Alex asked, looking around to see whether or not there was more to the complex.

           “You’d figure that a villain like him would want to live in a mansion or something like that,” Clover thought to herself before Sam shook her head.

           “He’s such a cheap ass. He took me to cheap restaurants, and most of our dates were stuff we could do for free, like running, going to the park, stuff like that. I’m not surprised that he would get a place like this,” Sam answered with venom in her voice, bringing back memories that were worse than she originally thought.

           “OK Sammy, breathe. You need to last at least long enough to find something suspicious,” Alex said, rubbing Sam’s back. Sam took a few deep breaths before nodding and looking at the apartment complex with a determined look on her face.

           “You know Sam, imagining that James is Danielle would work too,” Clover teased in a sing-song tone, causing Sam to blush and turn to her with a glare.

           “I would never insult Danielle or her beauty by connecting her in any way to that douchebag,” Sam said, in a tone that was soft but venomous, glaring at Clover. Clover chuckled uncomfortably before giving her a couple of pats on the shoulder.

           “I was just kidding, Sam. But seriously, we’re here for you if things go to shit. We’re going to be at a department store across the street, so call us on your Compowder if you need us,” Clover said before she and Alex gave Sam a good luck hug, which Sam returned with vigor.

           “Thank guys. Well, I guess I might as well go inside,” Sam said before she took a couple of deep breaths and opened the door to the apartment complex in front of her, giving Alex and Clover one last wave before they walked to the department store. Sam went up a couple of flights of stairs to the third floor, and she walked to the middle of the hallway and stopped at a door on the right. Sam took a few deep breaths to stop herself from punching James in the face the minute she saw him and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, James opened the door and brightened up when he saw her.

           “Samantha! I’m so happy that you made it. I thought you had changed your mind,” James greeted, giving Sam a hug. Sam’s face twisted into a grimace, but she managed to twist that grimace into a smile.

           “Thanks…,” Sam said, trying to sound as sincere as she possibly could. James let her go and invited her into his apartment. When Sam went in, she was surprised by how…ordinary the room was. There was nothing really special about his apartment. The walls were still white, there weren’t many plants or pictures around, and the furniture was just simple black leather couches and wooden chairs and tables for the kitchen. “Did you just move into this place?”

           “Yes. It was a cheap place nearby, and I liked how it was away from the noise of the city, so I decided to move in here since it was only me,” James responded before walking up to Sam and putting an arm around her neck while holding a drink in his hand. “Unless you change your mind and decide to move in,” James flirted, which Sam responded to by rolling her eyes. She opened her mouth to tell him to back off, but took what seemed like her hundredth deep breath of the night, and relaxed.

           “We’ll see how the night goes,” Sam mumbled before she ducked down and moved out of the way of James’ arm. James simply smiled back and went back to the kitchen.

           “Would you like something to drink?” James asked.

           “Yes please, but I don’t want any alcohol. Do you have any Sprite?” Sam asked, looking around the house for anything suspicious, but there wasn’t anything that popped out to her. But maybe if she went to his room…

           “Of course,” James smiled back, before grabbing a Sprite bottle from inside the refrigerator and pouring its contents into a small glass with a couple of ice cubes. James gave her the drink, which Sam grabbed and looked at it.

           “Thanks,” Sam said, looking at the inside of the cup. It looked like just an ordinary amount of Sprite. There was no discoloration, no odd odors, nothing that would indicate a poison. While James was still in the kitchen, Sam pulled out her Compowder and scanned her drink for any poisons. However, the scan came back negative, so she put her Compowder away, and took a sip out of the cup. James came to the living room with a flatbread pizza on a plate and put it in the middle of the coffee table in his living room.

           “Samantha, why don’t you come here so we can eat?” James asked as Sam was standing by a support beam near the kitchen.

           “Well…uh…I actually have…to go to the bathroom,” Sam said, sweating a bit from nervousness, before drinking the rest of the Sprite in her cup, including the ice. James nodded and got up to point her in the right direction.

           “Of course, it’s the 2nd door to the right, right next to my room,” James said, pointing to the door to the bathroom. Sam nodded and walked to the bathroom, turning around when she arrived at the bathroom door, seeing that James had returned to the sofa in the living room. Sam moved away from the bathroom and went inside James’ room. When Sam did, she was surprised to see that the only things in there were normal; a bed with a green blanket, a couple of pillows with red pillowcases, a nightstand, a lamp, etc.

           “Hmmm…” Sam hummed, before looking at a closet. Sam knew that there was always more than meets the eye, so she opened the closet, expecting to find some plans to steal something valuable. However, what she saw in there sent a chill up her spine and made her feel sick to her stomach.

           What she found in James’ closet could best be described as a shrine to her. There were pictures completely covering a bulletin board, and all those pictures were of her. Most of the pictures were from their time dating, such as when they went to an amusement park, or when they went out running. However, as Sam looked through the bulletin board, she noticed other suspicious-looking pictures. Some of these pictures were of Sam not looking at the camera or barely in the range of the camera. However, what made her heart stop was a few pictures of her in the shower and underdressed. A couple of those pictures appeared to be taken last night, given she recognized the clothing she was wearing the night before.

           “Wh…wh…what the hell?” Sam asked herself, putting a hand over her mouth to prevent the vomit from shooting out of her mouth. Sam backed away from the shrine, still shaking as if she were in Antarctica completely naked. She pulled out her Compowder to try and call Jerry, but she felt a hand grab her Compowder.

           “Hello Samantha,” James said, looking straight at Sam with a lustful look in his eyes and a sick Cheshire smile on his face.

#cartoonnetwork #cartoon network #cartoon fanart #cartoon fanfiction #totally spies #totally spies alex #totally spies clover #totally spies sam #danielle #james #romance #love #friendship #drama #fear #shrine #nightmare #past #comedy #humor #cartoon network fanfiction #cartoon network fanart #totally #spies