#the rabbit water bowls are the worst to manage

[kitramune]

This is not my usual fandom posting so feel free to ignore it but in light of posting pics of my rabbits I've gotten a lot of other rabbit pics in my feed and I don't want to call anyone out, but education is always key, so... I'll just share my stance here: Rabbits do NOT belong in cages. Rabbits may seem lazy since they are crepuscular (like cats, meaning active at dawn and dusk) but they are extremely active when they are, and need space to roam and binky and run and hop. A cage is not that. Cages are also impractical af since they cost upwards of $100, whereas you can make much more adequate space by buying those puppy exercise pens for like $40. Save your friend, and save your wallet. Rabbits do NOT belong outside. Domestic bunnies have no way to regulate their body temperature and will very easily overheat or freeze if left outside. That's not even accounting for predators like neighborhood cats tormenting/scaring them or breaking in to get them. Rabbits do not belong on hard floors, nor do they belong on most advertised substrates. Rabbits do not have paw pads. Just fur and bone. A hard surface can cause sore hawks (open wounds on the feet) at best, and permanent splayed legs at worst. Many substrates are also toxic or hazardous for them to ingest. Rabbits can't vomit like a dog or cat, so if they ingest something bad, they are very at risk for blockages or toxicity build-up. Generally safe exceptions include recycled paper bedding or baked pellet bedding, in their litter box. For flooring, I recommend an area rug that they can't dig or chew up. Speaking of litter boxes, those little corner ones that come with cages? Ditch 'em. (Spayed and neutered) Rabbits are exceptionally clean animals, but they do poop constantly throughout the day due to how their digestive system works. Those tiny boxes are going to fill up even if you manage to make them comfortable for the bun, and then the rabbit is forced to get feces and urine all over its paws, or it's going to say "screw that" (understandably so) and eliminate all over its space. Preference for hood vs no hood etc is going to vary depending on the rabbit, but go with a large cat litter box and clean it every 1-2 days depending on the bun or your own tolerances. Get a large, heavy dog water bowl. Rabbits on a healthy diet drink a LOT more than you'd expect. Elowen is only like 4lbs and I have to change her huge bowl every day. I say heavy cuz rabbits like to throw their bowls. Those little water bottles for cages are also pretty garbage. Not only are they bacteria traps that are ridiculously hard to clean, they don't give enough water and your bun is at high risk for dehydration. Drinking out of a bowl is far more natural for the lil guys. Brush them and clip their nails! They will groom themselves but rabbits have very heavy sheds and because they can't cough up hairballs like cats, it's a blockage risk if they have a ton of excess hair. Long nails in a rabbit will also increase their risk for splayed legs and other health issues. That healthy diet I mentioned? It needs to be about 80% grass hay. Make sure they have a steady supply, especially in their litter box (rabbits have an "active gut" meaning they eliminate while grazing) If you have a hard time with Timothy Hay because of allergies or dust, I recommend good quality orchard grass or oat hay. Pellets should be given only at mealtimes measured by the rabbit's weight. More is liable to make your rabbit overweight. Pellets should be 19% fiber MINIMUM. Untreated or washed leafy greens are also important. (I get those pre-washed baby spring salad mixes for Elowen cuz I'm a big dummy lazypants). Fruits and veggies should be treats only, due to the sugar. (Yes, the carrot stereotype is a LIE. I know.) Hay naturally keeps their gut healthy and their teeth filed. If you notice a rabbit not eating for a few hours, take it seriously. G.I Stasis is no joke, nor are overgrown teeth. X_X

#animals #rabbits #bunnies #pets #care #I doubt this will get shared much but if anyone asks I'd be happy to include resources and stuff #tumblr got mad at the length so I had to delete the last point about GIVING THEM LOVE #rabbits are social animals you guys

[thebakerbuns]

What's In My Rabbit Emergency Kit

Today I wanted to share with you what I keep in my emergency kit for my buns in case they get ill or if I need to do any grooming at home. If you are struggling to put together your own, hopefully this helps give you some ideas.

It's always handy to keep items like this on hand in case your buns get ill or if you need to do any grooming at home. Most of my homemade emergency kit is made up of left over medicine that I've had from when the buns have been poorly but it's great to have it on hand just in case anything comes back as medicine isn't cheap. Here are the other items that I have included in my kit.

NAIL CLIPPERS

I normally take my buns to the vet a couple of times a year to get their nails done as they can be so tricky and it only costs me £12 per rabbit but I do have nail clippers at home just in case.

BRUSH

I have the fur buster brush which is great when I need to groom the buns during malting season. Zaya recently suffered from stasis, I think caused by the heatwave we had here in the UK and some fur that was stuck in her tummy, so I always try to keep on top of their brushing. Malibu has the worst fur that is really fine and it literally gets everywhere. I was thinking about getting another kind of brush to help which I may leave until next year.

METAL BOWLS

I don't use these very often but if I ever need to give the buns any food with medicine or critical care in a bowl I would use these as they are easy to wash and I don't mind them getting ruined.

BODY SUITS

I have a few body suits which were from when Zaya got spayed but even though they are XS, she still managed to wiggle her way out of them. I haven't used them since but I thought they could be handy for something if I ever needed them although I don't think they would fit Malibu.

SNUGGLE SAFE

I have picked up a couple more snugglesafe's to add to my collection so I can put them in different places. I put them under their water bowl to stop it freezing and some in spots where they like to sit.

F10 GERMICIDAL OINTMENT

When my buns went for a check-up at the vets, my girl Zaya has a small development of a sore hock from when they were on the concrete patio (before I moved them onto horse matting) and my vet recommended picking up some F10 Germicidal ointment in case it progresses which luckily it hasn't but it's always handy to have on hand.

PRO & PRE BIOTIC POWDER

My buns went through a phase of being quite poorly with Zaya going through stasis and having an infection around her mouth and Malibu having the snuffles, being medication quite a bit it didn't really help their stomachs and they needed to build up the friendly bacteria in their stomachs again so I picked up some Pro and Pre Biotic powder to put in their water to help them.

LEFT OVER MEDICATION

I keep all of the buns left over medicine in my emergency kit just in case an illness comes back especially stasis or a weepy eye. Rabbit medicine isn't cheap so I really don't like throwing it away when I can keep it on hand until I've used it up or it goes out of date. Luckily most medicine lasts a couple of years. I have Isathal eye drops (for weepy eyes or infections in the eye), Metacam/Loxicom (pain relief), Enrocare (antibiotic) and Metoclopramide/Emeprid (gets the gut moving - GI stasis), Sulfatrim (antibiotic - for snuffles) and Bisolvon powder (clears the respiratory system) in my kit just in case.

CRITICAL CARE

I have two different pouches of Critical Care just in case the buns aren't eating and need something to pacify them or if they go into stasis and need force feeding something. If you don't have critical care, you can always mush up some of their pellets with some warm water so it turns into a watery paste and feed it to your bun(s) using a syringe.

SYRINGES

I have a big variety of syringe sizes (1ml, 3ml, and large one for critical care) for different things like giving medicine or feeding the buns critical care. I save these when the vet gives them to me or if they come with medicine and wash them out until I can't use them anymore like if the measurement markings start to rub off. I keep them in a zip lock bag to keep them clean and protected.

Q TIPS AND COTTON ROUNDS

These come in really handy if you need to clean a wound or to clean their scent glands which I haven't needed to do yet. If their eye is closed up from gunk, I run the cotton round under warm water and hold it over their eye until it opens up and I can give them some eye drops.

ADHESIVE BANDAGE TAPE

Luckily I haven't needed to use this yet but it's handy to have it just in case. My buns are lucky to not have any serious injuries yet (long may that continue) but I wanted to keep it in my kit just in case.

SUPPLEMENTS

My bun Zaya went through a rough patch were she had an infection around her mouth and chin area and we weren't sure what caused it, but my vet recommended picking up some skin and coat supplements from Oxbow to help keep their skin and coat healthy. They are high in fibre and are formulated with beneficial ingredients including palm oil, canola, chamomile, and essential Omega 3 and 6 fatty acids to support a healthy skin and coat in small pets. You should give your rabbit(s) around ½ to 2 tabs a day depending on their body weight.

HAND SANITISER

And finally I have some hand sanitiser in my kit for me for when I handle the buns, their medicine or when cleaning out their litter boxes.

#care

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 6

Live up to your own Legend

The pink has largely faded from his hair and Legend is ready to put that humiliation behind him.

He is.

But the problem with sharing your secrets with others is they constantly remind you that they know. Oh, they are subtle about it. For all that Sky and Twilight are earnest and open, they can both clam up with the least social of them.

A smirk stretches his lips as, despite himself, Legend recalls the 'incident' if it could be called that.

The whole group was there, sitting by the campfire, digging into one of Wild's stew. The blend of herbs, potatoes and meat had been one of those hearty dishes for calm evenings after a weary day of traveling. It was quite tasty, and Legend was content to fill his stomach with hot food. It was more than he had been able to do on many, many evenings during his adventuring days.

It had just so happened that some of the others agreed, and were much less silent in their enjoyment.

“Man, Tetra wishes we could eat that well on the sea,” Wind said, waving his spoon around without a care for the splashes of sauce. To be fair, neither Hyrule or Wild seemed to be bothered either.

“Yeah, it's great, Wild,” Hyrule agreed. “What is it?”

“Rabbit.”

Sky's mouthful sprayed out of his mouth in a dramatic cloud of sauce and half-chewed meat. And because someone upstairs had decided that Legend had suffered enough, the person sitting directly in front of Sky at the time had been Warriors.

The ensuing chaos had given Legend time for his stomach to settle, and he suddenly had the answer to a question he had never meant to ask, but he would, indeed, have made a delicious meal if the monsters of the corrupted Sacred Realm had ever caught him. It truly was just like Wild to provide that kind of answer to Life's hidden (and for good reasons) secrets.

The Goddesses love a good joke at their heroes' expenses, didn't they?

Yet, the worst part might just have been what he had realized afterward. Twilight, chillingly, hadn't reacted much beyond a chuckle at Sky's reaction and a pat on the back to a confused Wild. He'd also finished his bowl despite the incident happening before he had.

Legend wishes he knew how to feel about that. Even today, he has mixed feelings on Twilight's non-reaction. Above all things, he is not a rabbit and the rancher is not a wolf. That's the reflection of their inner light when shrouded in shadows of dark magic. It's a curse. Twilight can make use of a curse all he wants (he can't judge, what's with Ravio's bracelet), so long as he doesn't let that shadow crystal near him again.

Unfortunately, he can't exactly put it out of his mind when Sky took him aside during the morning and apologized, both for the scene and, well, you know. Sky, sweetheart that he is, mentioned that he told Wild some tall tale about it being sacred in Skyloft or something. Wild would try and avoid rabbit meat from now on.

Legend's words of gratitude come out through a curtain of heavy rain to his own ears, it feels like. The consideration is more than he knows what to do with. And... and part of him wasn't even asking for it. Heroes must stand on their own two feet.

So, yes, perhaps he is a bit more cautious than usual when traveling near Twilight or Sky today. Maybe he does slide over to the corners of their battle formations away from those two. He needs time to think, and he's no moron. He's not gonna let that affect his performance in battle in the slightest.

In fact, he was the one to land the killing blow on the hinox. Ice rods to freeze its feet, followed by a jumping great spin. Warriors lets out a low whistle upon witnessing it.

Legend's bow is only mildly sarcastic. That was damn fine fighting, if he says so himself.

They made progress today, and are nearing their objective, one of Wild's shrines. One covered in the darkness of a moonless, starless night at all times. But they do need to clean their scraps and maybe heal that concussion. Nasty hit, but Hyrule's is firm: Wild will be good as new after a few rounds of healing magic and a fairy. Which, for once, they have to spare.

Food, on the other hand...

“I've got some salted jerky,” Twilight offers.

“Ooooh,” Warriors feigns enthusiasm. “And with my goron bread and Hyrule's salted cheese, that'll be sure to finish the job.”

Hyrule's hands, which had been illuminated with the Life spell signature, twitch. “Hey! What's wrong with my salted cheese?”

There is hesitation, most of all from Legend, and then Four takes the dive. “It could give a family of plague-spreading rats a run for its rupees.”

Sad, but fair. Hyrule's cheese is a testament to his cooking as a whole. It might be edible, but Nayru herself wondered how.

Hyrule's back hunches a bit before he straightens and turns away from the other with a huff.

Legend's hands hover uselessly at his sides. He ought to say something. He wants to say something. Except he's not gonna lie and say the cheese is okay, because even Ravio wouldn't try to sell it. And then his chance is lost.

Time steps in. Strides right in the middle of the group, massaging his sore shoulder and running a hand through Hyrule's hair as he passes him by. “Alright, you've had your fun, but we do need to decide on a course of action for our next few meals. There's still plenty of mushrooms and fruits in Wild's slate.”

Sky offers himself. “I can whip up something. It won't be great, but it'll be filling.”

“Okay, but we can hunt too, can't we?” Wind jumps in. “Like, we're not in a malice-infested area or anything. I know I saw a couple of goats and deers earlier on the road.”

His stomach takes that moment to growl. And his mind wanders back to Wild's previous meal last night. His mouth even waters, before he remembers everything else about the stew and there goes his appetite.

“We've got plenty already,” Twilight says.

“Yeah...” Four gives him the side eye. “No offense Sky, but it'll be bland enough without some meat.”

It's one of those truly bizarre quirks. And Legend gets it. He hasn't survived this long without being able to understand different people. There's a... well, not certainty, but an assurance when it comes to food security and times of peace. He gets that farmers have dry years, chu-chu infestations and the likes, but Legend's known all his life to never pass up an opportunity for food, and he sees it even more pronounced in Hyrule.

It's their damned timeline. The whole thing is doomed to die.

“Let's skip another radish failure, shall we?” Legend snarks. It's only a fraction of the resentment in him, but it helps settle his heartbeat.

“I think you're outvoted, pup.”

A look of annoyance crosses Twilight's face, but he holds his tongue. Another way we are nothing alike, Legend thinks.

“We need people to forage, hunt and make camp. And look over the wild cub.” And so Time begins to pair them off, balancing them between skills and health. It's all fine and dandy, until the Old Man looks at him and Twilight, deadpan, and shrugs. “I've got a good feeling about the two of you working together.”

Sometimes, Legend just really wants to deck Time. He's certain others share this feeling. Even Twilight, for all he plays the dutiful son's part.

“Alright,” Twilight says, patting him on the back as he leads the way outside the camp. “Let's do this. Can't let Pretty Boy show us up, can we?”

Legend snorts. So, maybe they share one or two traits. But he's willing to chalk that up more to Warriors being ungodly annoying at times.

“Not gonna throw off my aim, are you?” Legend jeers. It's meant as a tease, but it comes off harsher than he meant.

Typical.

What isn't is the way Twilight just shrugs, his wolf pelts like a wave of black fur. Legend's not blind. He knows his sharp tongue used to burn Twilight's fuse. At some point though, when he wasn't looking, the whole thing had been replaced, longer and shinier than ever before.

And the way Twilight grins at him has the sort of familiarity he thought was only deserved by the likes of Time or Wild.

“You didn't forget where I grew up, didya? What do you think we do with goats exactly?”

The hook's too good not to bite. And, Ravio does say he has sharp teeth. “You'd wash my mouth with soap if I told you the truth.”

And there it is, the tick and twitch of Twilight's ears. Warriors is the only one that constantly manages to bring it out. But, well, Legend aims for greatness, doesn't he?

“Tch, ain't ever seen a Gordonian Oat up close, have you?”

In two strides, Twilight has broken the gap between them.

“For starters, they're tall.” Another step closer. “Grow up about the size of Epona. But less even tempered.”

Legend stares, resisting the urge to back down as he realizes that Twilight towers over him, and at this angle, the setting sun cast his face in shadows.

“Hu-uh.”

“More importantly, they've got horns,” he says, putting his hands up in some poor imitation of the real thing. “Can knock down a man charging. And they will. Males have a foul temper.”

Then, as if nothing happened, Twilight pulls back and knocks his bow over his shoulder.

“Besides, it's needless hunting that gets my goat.” – Legend snorts despite himself and subsequently hides away from Twilight's grin. – “I could never resist one of the Cub's meat skewers.”

Is it him, or are Twilight's teeth a bit sharper than a Hylian's should be?

“I don't think you can resist any of his cooking,” Legend snarks, smacking Twilight's stomach. “Guess you gotta fuel those muscles of yours with something, huh?”

Said big and strong hero proceeds to pout. “Like you're any better.”

Legend shrugs. “Never refuse a meal you don't think is poisoned, is my motto.”

There's the beginning of a frown, but Legend is not up for that.

“Come on, I'm not letting Pretty Boy outdo us.”

Twilight hesitates, then shakes his head and starts forward. “Do aim for the throats, if you can. I'd rather not deal with the screams.”

The screams.

Legend falters then accelerates to catch up. Screams.

Animals don't... they'll thrash, struggle, make noise, but it wasn't...

The thought lingers well into their travel, when they've passed the turn of the road and shadows burst out of Twilight's necklace.

Wolfie bounds into the undergrowth, his dark tail vanishing behind some leaves.

                                                     ***

The first prey they come across must be a rabbit.

A shy thing gnawing on leaves in the grass. Crouched low and near invisible in the dale with its brown coat. But Wolfie's senses detected it with ease. With that help, Legend sees it too.

The arrow is held tight in his hand, notched but not quite ready to fly.

Twilight glances back.

Sky would take the hard decision out of his hands and chase off the rabbit.

Twilight waits for him to choose. No matter which, Twilight'll go all the way.

They're both considerate in their own ways.

It makes Legend want to curl up in shame. To be able to at least pick how he wants to treat that secret. But he doesn't know. He spent years not thinking about it, and surprise, that did not prepare him anymore for when it blew up in the open.

Zelda would scream the mother of all 'I told you so' if she ever caught wind of this. Which is why he'll spend a lot of time ensuring he never does.

Which is another way of saying he'll run away from his problem.

Shy, nervous thing.

One cracked twig has the rabbit tense up, then scamper back into its den.

Legend lifts his foot from the twig and glares.

“You good?” Twilight asks as he emerges from shadows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Legend snips. “We had rabbit yesterday. And it's hard to hit the throat of the little buggers.”

Twilight nods sagely like that wasn't pure bullshit. “Fair enough.”

By the Goddesses, Legend must be ill because he suddenly hates the idea of getting away with it. “You know you can call me out, don't you?”

“Don't really see the need to force you to talk. Either you do or you don't. It's not like I know what you should be saying anyway.”

Well, there goes one of his hopes. Twilight looks and acts so comfortable in his skin (both of them) that Legend is a bit jealous.

“Well... what's it like, being a wolf?”

Twilight turns his head to the sun disappearing between the hills. To the darkness seeping into the sky. His gaze looks miles away from him.

“Dangerous.”

Funny, Legend would have said the same of being a rabbit, but, he suspects, for different reasons.

“Wolves aren't loved. And there's a good reason for that. They're powerful beasts with powerful senses. Sometimes, I find myself sniffing for scents I couldn't possibly catch as a Hylian. Thinking of sinking my teeth into something. You wouldn't believe the meat cravings I get sometimes. Farore, the faces my ma made the first few meals we had together after I got back.” A faint chuckle. “It's a good thing Ordon's not just harvesting wheat, 'cause I would be a miserable man in there.”

What do you think we do with goats exactly? Raise them, protect them.

Eat them.  

“Still better than turning into prey.”

Twilight's smile is smaller, but it feels more real. “Yeah, maybe, but if you ever reflect what you are on the inside, then you'll be soft, cuddly... loved.”

Legend hears everything his brother doesn't say. What would happen to Twilight if he ever let loose completely? If he gave in to his inner self?

He has a feeling his brother knows. That he felt it already.

For a second, he thinks to place a hand on Twilight's shoulder, but... he can't quite bring himself to do it.

“... Want to get back to it?” Twilight hints at the trails he was following as a wolf. “We still haven't caught anything, and I can hear Wind's accusation from here.”

Yeah, he can too. The sailor would ask him if Twilight was being a sore loser, and the others might believe it. Legend might have done that in Twilight's shoes. He's spiteful like that. Nothing like a bunny.

Twilight clutches his necklace and goes down on four legs again. No hesitation to it.

One of them embraces the shadows, the other flinches at them, and now he wonders if they aren't both stupid.

The animals they come across next are the slow grazers, the desperately hungry or the uncautious. Those that thrive in dusk, right before the nocturnal critters make the fields and woods their own.

They hunt in a silence filled with cacophonous thoughts. It doesn't affect Legend's aim. He could strike an enemy sleepwalking at this point.

And true to his word, Legend did shoot the deer dead in one hit. No struggling. No... screams.

He's about finished butchering most of it and filling his inventory with carefully wrapped pieces when Twilight comes back from his circling watch (monsters are always a concern). Judging by the bit of dark blood on Wolfie's collar, it was a successful scouting trip.

The excuse was often bullshit, but it never meant Twilight was leaving them to dry. It's a comforting thought. He's always taken a big brother role to them the way the Old Man slips between commander and father to a bunch of bokoblins.

“Hyrule talks, you know?” Legend says, softly.

Twilight plops down next to Legend's bags and makes a curious 'bork'.

“He showed me his new collection.” Legend recalls the mile-a-minute explanation, and how warm his successor's happiness had made him feel. “It was like you hung the stars in the sky. Thank you.”

There's a big dog-like grin on Wolfie's face. It's too similar to the one on his Hylian face for anyone with a brain not to link the two together. Twilight's always wearing it when he pulls Wild up, when he gives Wind a piggyback ride (and the sailor calls him a trusty steed with the thickest pirate accent Legend has ever heard). It's his grin for little siblings he's so proud of.

“How do you do it?”

Twilight tilts his head to the side, like he doesn't instantly get the question. (Maybe he doesn't, whispers a small part of Legend, maybe it's natural and it's only him that struggles with connecting to his fellow heroes.)

The words don't want to come, but he's a Chosen of Courage. He never could back down from anything.

“The big brother act,” he says. “Hyrule. I don't know what to do with him. How to be around him. I like him, he's more tolerable than most of you meddling bastards.” – A look of offense crosses the wolf's face, and it's properly ridiculous. – “He's sweet, earnest, resourceful, heck, he even has manners despite growing up in a cave! What does he see in me?”

Twilight moves a paw over the middle of Legend's chest.

But he doesn't think that's right. It can't be that.

“I... I don't get why he chose me to admire. Sure, I'm the sucker that went on the most quests, but he's gone on two himself. It can't be my charming personality. I'm a stubborn jackass who doesn't know when to quit and that cuts just as much with my wit as with my arsenal. Is it just... being his predecessor?”

A crossed look passes over Twilight's face. His ears go flat on the sides of his head, his eyes narrowing. It's a little silly, knowing Twilight, but there's also that familiar pang of fear that helps Legend survive so many quests.

His instincts prove their worth when Twilight lunges and knocks him to the ground quick enough that Legend only realizes what happened a second later.

“What the-? Get off, Farmer.”

He could. And Twilight knows he could. Twilight's just relying on the knowledge that Legend won't.

Legend resigns himself to a moment of lying on his back with a fifty tons wolf crushing him to tiny pieces. That's it, that's the only reason he doesn't whip up his high-level strength bracelets to throw off the overly affectionate wolf on top of him.

Even if he has to fake the annoyance.

“Urgh, you stubborn a-” he doesn't complete the thought.

It's like an electrified chu-chu ramming into him.

By now, every one of them has seen Wolfie wrangle Wild around the camp at least once. Has been witness to their unorthodox brother sighing and huffing about his mentor forcing him into rest. Grumbling something about hard-headed mother cuccos and joykillers.

And the next day, the two of them grinning at each other over the battlefield. Wild seeking approval like he hadn't pulled his tongue at the rancher earlier.

“... That's not the same thing.”

Wolves don't have the right to look this fucking smug.

That manipulative goat-minder!

“It's not!” Legend protests, even knowing that, yes, it is indeed the same thing.

Words unspoken drift between them from the force of Twilight's gaze. Self-deprecating things, faults and flaws and fights, the sort of things Legend cringes at the thought of, but has to acknowledge. Wild admires Twilight, and it's not a matter of perfection.

Being smushed under a wolf has a way of making you accept that, no, that brother of yours isn't that great a person.

“Even so... ”

The rumble is a question.

“That doesn't tell me how to do it.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you mean to tell me I should sit on Hyrule until he feels the love.”

A laughing bark.

Legend smirks to himself. “Yeah, didn't think so.”

And a distant, experienced and – maybe too – cynical part of him starts to understand what Twilight is doing. Why he is not shifting back to Hylian form. Even knowing the truth, knowing that the sacred beast is his dull, dutiful brother does not get through to his subconscious. Knowledge does not weigh as much as the wolf splayed over him, does not warm him the way the mantle of soft fur does. He can't build up his walls fast enough. No, not quite. He can't bring himself to build his walls fast enough.

He missed this. Someone to watch over his shoulder, someone safe, that'd step in so that Legend wouldn't be needed.

He believes in no goddess, be they the Three, whom he knows are the object of his Princess' devotion, or even that Hylia that Sky mentions sometimes. He's long since gotten into the habits of cursing the Heavens, whoever resides there. It was only fair, after they cursed him with the world.

With the Windfish.

But just this once, being protected and smothered in ways that remind him of stormy nights when his uncle was still alive. The sort of stubborn strength that held in the face of the night, of monsters. Everything.

Twilight, Legend realizes, has a mind like a bear trap. Unassuming until it springs. Then, it never lets go.

Stubborn. He hates the part of him that likes it.

“We're not the same,” he hisses.

Because Twilight's friendly, personable, easy to talk to. Because Twilight is one of those bastards that's hard to hate no matter what he does. That wins you back with a couple of words and a steady hand during a difficult time.

Legend would sooner stab you once and be done with those messes.

And Wolfie's blue eyes are this shade of cloudless sky, clear, so frank. It's impossible not to see how Twilight doesn't believe him.

Legend's heart comes ablaze.

“None of your decisions have doomed a world!”

The wolf in Twilight whines. A low, pitiful noise.

“That's how I lost her. By destroying her world and everyone that lived in it.”

Twilight nuzzles him, something a bit desperate to the force of it.

Near misses, he thinks. It worked out. But some part of Twilight probably thinks it shouldn't have. Legend knows that madness. That jump of faith through the insane traps of ancient temples and half-baked schemes in the middle of a boss fight.

Near misses, they don't count, but they're the last steps before the cliff opens up below you.

And Legend has been falling for a long time.

Telling Zelda was a second's respite clinging to an unexpected root pooking out of the earth and rock.

Now he's found another.

He's strangely not bitter that he was the only one to go through this. To triumph in the destruction of a whole island. The closest to experiencing failure on that scale would have to be Wild, who was neither subtle nor all that quiet about his conviction in his perceived flaws.

And this must be what he receives when the feelings overwhelm him, when he needs the wolf instead of any of them. Quiet, unwavering support.

The lack of words coming from Twilight is half the healing balm.

Legend's not looking for words at all. Not some magic words that'll make the turmoil die out at any rates.

He couldn't bear to hear a platitude. To hear any variation of 'it's okay' or 'it was not your fault'. It was. It had been his decision in the end. The choice sucked, but he picked one anyway. Because he is the Hero.

There had been no one else. Just him.

“What's my next decision going to bring?”

The warmth and fur shifts over his body, but still Twilight doesn't talk. With the tighter, smaller posture against his chest, Legend would guess he feels some guilt over forcing that confession out of him. It's worth a grimace, maybe, but he is too tired to give a fuck.

Legend takes a moment just staring upward. He's forgotten which Hyrule this is, how far from home he is. But the stars haven't changed. He'll bet good rupees that the constellations are nothing alike between one kingdom and the next.

He points to a cluster of lights. “That's the 'Fairy Spring'. And right next to it, 'The Raging Lynel'.”

Twilight makes a noise like a noble being shown a peasant. Oh, he must never say that outloud for fear of being punched with those moblin arms of his. Though, he had thought Twilight didn't have lynels in his era, the lucky bastard.

More names come to him. None of which trigger recognition in Twilight, but his brother listens all the same, attentive, patient. This is nice. Better.

His eyelids start threatening to droop.

A gentle, concerned whine ring to his ears, and a paw scratches his tunic.

Right. Right, they are too far from camp for him to nap. It's already a long walk, for a Hylian.

Legend suppresses the pang of envy in his chest at Twilight's cursed form. He shouldn't! But what does it say about him, the boy grown in a world always threatened by dark forces, when his inner self is a harmless bunny? What does it say about Twilight, grown through an era of peace, when his inner self is a dangerous predator?  

The successors of the Hero of Time, ladies and gentlemen!

The real shame, though, is probably that he misses that softness.

I used to love saving people... he thinks, and only notices the tear when Wolfie nuzzles him.

He knows there and then that their earlier conversation was wrong. Even if Twilight lost himself in the shadows, there'd still be something to love about him. Because Wolfie is a beast, but the others aren't wrong when they call him a gift of the Goddesses.

“Urgh, don't try and be physically affectionate with me,” he says, pushing off the cold nose.

What about me? Is there anything loveable about me, besides saving a couple of countries?

Would Uncle still be proud? Would she be able to love me as I am now?

“Why am I like this?” he asks, and is grateful for the silence.

The answer, he's known for some time.

It's when I realized no one would save me. When it comes to saving the world, I'm it. No second chances. No one to pick up the torch. If I fail, that's it. There's only me.

Wolfie's soft barks bring him out of his head, and pull a smirk out of him. He deliberately ruffles his brother's head, rough, because it wouldn't do to have him think he's gone soft that easily.

But his fear just isn't true anymore.

Twilight would save him. Hyrule would. Sky would. Any of the others would. And he'd jump in front of a sword for them just as easily.

He hasn't let down the walls long enough to

… Maybe he could try.

Leaves suddenly rustle and bushes part to let another Hylian through.

“Legend?” Hyrule's eyes flicker to the tear tracks on his face. “... This isn't the direction we saw that river, is it?”

Legend sighs and pushes Twilight off. “You're off by thirty degrees.”

Red blooms across Hyrule's cheeks, his gaze lowering to the ground.

Damn it! He isn't prepared for this! If he had just a minute to gather his wits beforehand...

“Why didn't you tell me he was coming?!” Legend hisses, resisting the urge to smack Twilight on the nose.

He prefers his fingers unnipped, thank you very much.

“Are you okay?” Hyrule asks, fidgeting. “Weren't you with Twilight?”

“Oh, huh, he went scouting ahead.” Farore! Now the rancher's stupid excuses were infecting him. Why was he the one to share that secret?

Hyrule nods. “Ah, makes sense.”

Some crows above caw.

It's the only noise in the woods.

Legend stumbles when Twilight headbutts his rear end. “Oi!” he says, turning a threatening glare at his idiot brother.

“Oh, hey Wolfie,” Hyrule says with a timid wave.

Right. Hyrule's most frequent experiences with Twilight's beast forms revolve around him being herded back to camp after another ill-fated self-appointed scouting mission. Worse when the Champion got involved and the two got into their heads to have an adventure whilst on a supply run.

Got to have fun...

He glances between Hyrule, trying to look steady in front of him, and Twilight, who is staring back at him intently.

“You don't need to be so nervous, you know?” he hears himself say.

Hyrule blinks in surprise, as does Twilight. But, well, Legend committed. He might as well go all in.

He lands a hand in the scruff of Twilight's neck, scratching through the fur. “He's a big softie.”

That would normally get him a warning growl or a painless bite. Except Twilight can't very well protest and undo all his hard work over petty jealousy, can he?

“Come on,” he tells Hyrule. “If he gets snippy, I'll bonk him on the head whilst you make your daring escape.”

“I wouldn't run!” Hyrule says, hotly. “I mean, I don't know if Life works on wolves, but I'd have to try, knowing your strength bracelets.”

It startles a laugh out of him. There's their wanderer. Ready to get in the thick of it with a sword or a spell. That's the man that'll succeed him. That's the man he has the luck to meet. And teach.

“Interesting question. It sounds like something we should test in a safe environment.”

And he jumps to the side, avoiding the fangs aiming for his buttocks. So predictable!

“Oh dear, he's gone feral!” he croons, clicking his heels to activate the pegasus boots. “No two ways about it, time to book it.”

“Wait, what?” Hyrule, the poor man, has no time to register the turn of events that Legend grabs him by the sleeves and starts to drag him away from a barking wolf.

“By the way, have I told you about that time I escaped from a pair of lynels on top of Death Mountain?”

“No!” Hyrule shouts, wide-eyed with both awe and a little fear. “Is that really the time?”

He skids to a halt just in time to avoid a blitzing Twilight bursting out of a bush. The barking rings to his ears. His heartbeat has picked up from the thrill, and he knows he will win this.

“Feels nostalgic for some reason!”

“Talk away then! Oh, and jump!”

Hyrule's hand pulls him upward, makes him weightless as if he'd done his magic cape. They launch into the air, and scramble up on the higher branches of a large oak tree. He's chuckling, a little awed by Hyrule's arsenal of spells.

And then Twilight lands on the branch next to them, hackles raised and honestly a little scary. The wood winces ominously, shakes, but holds.

“Wolves can't do that!” he yells.

“I don't think he cares, Legend!” Hyrule hops to the next tree.

And Legend stops thinking about his next move. He follows, he lets his instinct and experience guide him into this impromptu chase game. Marvels at Hyrule's tricks sometimes, preens when his gets Twilight to crash into a boar that only mildly appreciated the tackle and gets to tell the entire story on the way back to camp.

He's got a skip to his steps. He won. They both know he won this time and nothing will change that.

But, just in case, Legend will sleep with one eye open. He's seen Time's and Wild's pranks so far. And in that chain of Heroes, Twilight is both the apprentice and the master. There's no way Twilight isn't capable of their very worst.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Legend #LU Wolfie

[aquagirl1978]

Today @violettduchess gave me the most wonderful gift - she wrote me Sevastian fic (with a bit of Geralt tossed in there for good humor). I was in tears - it was so sweet and funny and just a really great story. I loved it so much she gave me permission to share this here. 

EDIT - I loved it so much I made this quick doodle to go along with this special story (scroll to the end of the story to see the image)

Inside the snow-kissed cabin, Sevastian leaned back, savoring the feel of the soft linen bedsheets against his skin. He was nude, of course, and he wore his nudity the same way he wore the silken garments of the Prince Consort: easily, effortlessly.

Outside the snow lazily made its way down, circling this way and that, dusting the tree branches and foliage with frosty kisses before eventually finding a final resting place to settle, adding to the blanket of white that was steadily growing thicker.

His pale eyes were trained on his wife as she knelt by the stove, poking at the fire. He admired the way her loose mane of auburn hair drank in the light, as if it too wanted to be as close to her as possible. With a practiced hand, she shoved the iron poker into the softly glowing pieces of wood, the remnants of the logs he had carried in earlier that evening.

“You’re staring“, she said, without turning around, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Can you blame me?“, he answered, his lips tilting up in a grin. “Not many in the Kingdom are treated to a glimpse of their Queen like this.“

She leaned back, satisfied with her work before closing the oven door and setting the poker back into its iron-wrought holder. Turning, he was met with the familiar smile he cherished above all other things.

“Their Queen stoking a fire?“ She made her way back toward the bed, matching the grin on his face with one of her own. She perched on its edge, her gaze warming him more than the glowing embers as it ran over the length of him.

“Their Queen”, he said as he pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching out to touch the soft ends of her hair, “disheveled”, his hand skimmed its way up her arm to her shoulder, “and love-bruised from her husband’s adorations.” His fingers, cool and gentle, traced over the love-bites above her collarbone. She laughed, his favorite sound, catching his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers as they curled around hers.

“You have been a most attentive subject”, she said, her voice laced through with affection. “This respite from royal duty was certainly one of your better ideas.”

He smiled, soft and certain as he reached for her, tugging her toward him as he fell back. “Then come here and continue to thank me for my cleverness”. His hands were already pushing the soft, sage green dressing gown off of her shoulders as she braced herself above him, her red hair falling over them, curtaining their faces as she kissed him. He was struck by the feeling of

how familiar her kiss was and yet how a kiss from her always felt like the gateway to something new, how it never failed to breathe life to the spark inside him that burned only for her.

“My Queen is stoking something else”, he breathed, his whole body alight as she pressed kisses to the pale skin of his neck, his own hands moving over her as if they had a life of their own, desperately trying to touch her anywhere and everywhere at once.

He nearly had her out of that blasted, heavy robe when a loud knocking cut through the sounds of their whispered sighs. Their eyes met. Only a select few knew they were here and they had been told only to disturb them if things were truly dire.

She pushed away from him, off the bed and the cold in her wake felt like it was seeping into his very bones. With a soft curse on his lips, he swung his long legs over the side and made quick work of pulling on his leather pants and white tunic. His wife was belting her robe tightly about her waist. She started for the door but he moved faster, stepping in front of her.

“Allow me”, he said softly. Her eyes dropped to his hand where he was already grasping the hilt of one of his silver daggers. Only the thin press of her lips together showed her annoyance at not being allowed to answer but she was a Queen, she belonged to the realm as well as him. However the loss of certain

freedoms still vexed her.

Sevastian opened the door and his silver eyes traveled up until they met gold. Specifically a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes the color of the gilding on the throne. His white hair camouflaged the snow, but more of it had settled on his black cloak. The wind whipped around him as he took a moment to size the prince up. His gaze lingered a moment on the dagger held so casually in Sevastian’s hand.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you but the lights from your cabin were visible through the trees. I was hoping you might have a place for a traveler where I could wait out the worst of this snowfall.” 

Sevastian kept his expression schooled as he looked over the stranger. He was a fighter, that much was clear. Even the dim light from inside the cabin, struggling to illuminate the stranger in the grey, snow-filled gloom, couldn’t hide the way he held himself, the square of his shoulders, the cautious way his golden eyes were taking in what he could see of the cabin’s interior,

assessing.

“Ah fuck”, the man muttered. “You’re here with your partner. I’m sorry. I’ll go and—”

“Nonsense”.

Sevastian fought back the cringe that threatened to break his cool expression as his wife walked over, pulling the door open wider and motioning for the man to come in. “It’s cold out there and you need shelter. We’re happy to accommodate you.”

The big man glanced at Sevastian who merely stepped aside, though his hand was still gripping his dagger, tension running through him like currents of water.

She was already pulling out a chair at their small dining table, setting down a wooden bowl and spoon.

There goes the remainder of their rabbit stew, he thought with irritation. The man had removed his cloak, revealing two swords strapped to his broad back. As if sensing Sevastian’s gaze, he reached back, removing them as well and leaned them against the wooden wall.

“Thank you”, he said, his voice deep and, admittedly pleasant to listen to. He wondered if the man would recognize the Queen or even himself, but his face remained unaware, relaxed even as she spooned some of the warm stew into the bowl.

“Thank you?”, he turned, looking from her to him, searching for ways to address them.

“Sev. And this is my wife. Bunny.” No need to give her real name. No one should know the ruler of the kingdom was esconded away in a secluded cabin in the wilds.

She shot him a Look, her eyes widening ever so slightly, enough for him, who knew her face as well as any astronomer knows the stars, to see her surprise. The corner of his mouth tilted ever so slightly up.

“I am”, the man spoke in-between hearty spoonfuls of stew, “Geralt. Of Rivia.” He paused. “I’m….uh….a bard.”

Her eyebrows shot up and he knew his own face matched hers. The name of the land was unfamiliar to them both. And no bard he knew travelled so well armed. Sevastian slowly moved away from the wall, setting his dagger down on the table where it could be seen. A silent reminder. A warning.

“I have not heard of Rivia.”

Geralt swallowed, the muscles of his neck looking to be as strong as the corded forearms that were resting on the table.

“I….do not doubt it. Let’s just put it this way. Don’t piss off a sorceress.”

His wife settled herself into the chair beside him, amused. Sevastian could see she was burning to ask the stranger more but the tone of his voice was a portcullis, clearly not welcoming any inquistions. He lowered himself into a chair next to hers.

Once his bowl was empty, the tension in Geralt’s body began to slowly unspool itself as he looked around the small cabin, his strange, golden eyes curious.

“You a woodsman?”

Sevastian bit back a snort just as his wife kicked him not so delicately under the table.

“Of sorts”, he managed, biting back a grin.

Geralt’s gaze landed on the dagger, still lying openly on the table. “That’s fine craftsmanship for a woodsman’s blade.”

His eyes met Sevastian’s again, gold on silver. Neither one completely trusted the other.

As always, she knew what to do. Clearing away his bowl, she gestured to the two massive swords leaning against the wall. “Your blades are equally impressive, sir…..for a bard.”

He grunted, looking back towards Sevastian. The Winter Prince was watching him closely, still seated. His posture looked relaxed, almost lazy, but underneath tension coiled through him, ready to move the minute he sensed danger. Geralt stood up slowly, stepping away from the

table. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Sevastian stood slowly as he walked to the door, watched as Geralt slipped his swords back into their scabbards strapped on his back. His wife came over as well, holding something small, wrapped in a piece of linen.

“Some bread and dried meat for your journey. May you find your way home, Geralt of Rivia. “

Geralt took the bundle gratefully. “Thank you Bunny.” His tone was serious, sincere. Sevastian hid his grin behind his hand, biting down hard on his lower lip.

With one strong push, Geralt opened the cabin door. The snowfall had ceased and the world was enwrapped in soft white snow and darkness. The light of the full moon found its way through the trees, the snow glittering wherever it touched.

The stranger pulled his black hood over his own white hair, the snow clinging to his boots as he made his way through the trees, walking away until he was eventually swallowed by the darkness.

Heading back inside, Sevastian met her gaze.

“I sensed no danger, despite his blades.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “Neither did I. He truly seemed….lost.”

Sevastian glowered for a moment as he looked over at the empty pot. “He did however finish what was to be my next helping of dinner.”

She scoffed, pushing the chairs back into the table. “We can catch another rabbit in the morning and make more. Or maybe visit Rosie and dine there –“ She trailed off as her husband slowly made his way towards her, gleam in his eyes, his hands settling on her hips, enjoying their softness.

“Yes?”, she asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“If I cannot have rabbit stew”, he said, his voice low and teasing, full of promise, “then perhaps I shall dine on some other Bunny.”

Her laughter filled the cabin, warmer than any fire, as he swept her off her feet and carried her the short distance to the bed, playfully nipping at her neck with every step.

“Sevastian!”

#lovestruck #fanfiction #reigning passions #sevastian of the winter #fanart

[wordsturnintostories]

show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?”

word count: 27.8k (strap in, guys) note: wow sorry for not uploading here. i uploaded on ao3 but forgot to put it on my tumblr blog. which probably doesn’t matter... unless there are still people reading this fic on here. If that’s you, have fun.  ✨ warnings: graphic depictions of blood and wounds

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight ]

When Namjoon exits Bang Sihyuk’s office, head heavy and heart low, the coolness of the hallway air is the first thing he notices. It’s a refreshing change to the tension that had lingered in the office and kind of added an uncomfortable pressure to every breath, to every thought. The second thing he notices is that Yoongi is sitting on the leather couch, on his phone while holding up Jimin against his neck. The little cat sleeps comfortably. Even from over here, Namjoon can see the little belly rising and falling with every breath.

“Hyung,” he whispers, not wanting to disrupt the sacred peace.

Yoongi looks up from his phone and scoots to the side so Namjoon can sit comfortably beside him. Jimin’s tail flicks once but the kitty just sniffles and sighs against Yoongi’s throat.

“He sleeps so well,” Namjoon comments.

“Fell asleep right away. Such a cute little baby. Even with paint all over his fur.”

It’s a hidden question and Yoongi’s natural way of asking for what had happened when he doesn’t want to accuse or cast blame or make anyone feel bad. When Namjoon just hangs his head low, he’s got his answer.

“Do you think we’ll get it out?”

“Am I Min Yoongi or not?”

Okay. It’ll all be okay, hyung will take care of it. Yoongi is good at repairing things, has fixed almost as many things as Namjoon has broken - which is a lot, needless to say, and not even half of it has been captured on camera.

“So, what did Pdnim say?” “He said that we can’t tell the members about this.”

When Yoongi doesn’t say anything in return, fingers quietly curling up into a fist on his lap, Namjoon doesn’t need words to understand the storm inside his hyung.

“Not ever?” “Just for a while.”

“Well,” Yoongi snorts, “good luck with that. You’re shit at keeping secrets.”

“Hyung. I always do my best-“

“You always blurt out secret stuff. You’re the worst out of all of us.”

“That’s not true.”

Yoongi turns to look into his eyes, looking highly unimpressed. It’s a little unsettling how much it resembles Jimin’s look from this morning, when Namjoon’s elbow had accidentally pushed over Jimin’s little bowl of tuna right after he had filled it up. It’s pure disbelief and annoyance in one glance.

“Okay,” he admits, “maybe it is true.”

Satisfied, Yoongi sits back, checking in on Jimin gently and brushing his fingers through the fluffy fur, which earns him the sleepy beginnings of a purr.

“In any case,” he begins, “we don’t have to worry about keeping secrets if Jimin doesn’t turn back soon anyway.”

And yes, that’s a good point. And strangely, it’s got Namjoon thinking. In the beginning of this, he’d hoped for Jimin to turn back as fast as possible but now? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he’d stay a cat for a bit longer, just long enough for the members to find out (because Pdnim had only made him promise to not tell the members, and not to hide Jimin from them) and then turn back so they are able to prepare for the comeback. Yes, that would be perfect, even if he can’t imagine how it must feel to be a cat for Jimin.

“Anyway, I’ll be in the studio,” Yoongi says and just gets up without even waiting. “Slow Rabbit-hyung sent me my beats back, so I’ll work on that. Don’t worry about getting take out, I’ll cook tonight. Just text me when you and Sejin-hyung are done shopping.”

“Kay, hyung. Thank you.”

“Don’t forget the rubbing alcohol.”

Namjoon signs that he understands and sits back, rubbing his face. He really wishes he could be as stoic as Yoongi. Sure, the guy has a hot whirlwind of emotions on the inside, emotions that tear deeper into his heart tissue than he lets on, but just the fact that Jimin has been able to fall asleep on his chest is a huge testament to the calmness he radiates. Namjoon knows that he will probably never acquire that level of calm that Yoongi has. Most of the time, his fingers and brain and motor skills just don’t… line up and that resulting clumsiness flows into his aura and disrupts every inch of serenity he could even build up. Maybe that’s why Jimin loves to be scooped up by Yoongi. Why he rests so peacefully in Yoongi’s arms instead of wiggling around like he does in Namjoon’s.

Finally, Sejin comes out of the office as well.

“Ready to go?”

After their first couple of hours of treading through a couple of stores and ticking off a couple of items from Sejin’s list (even the rubbing alcohol), Namjoon feels like he’s swallowed a stone. Worry presses into his belly like an unremovable weight, inducing a stomach ache and a wandering mind. There’s so many things going through Namjoon’s mind that he doesn’t even pay attention, just strolling after Sejin, careful enough to not get lost but otherwise unresponsive to the world. He’s got sunglasses on, a good enough disguise to avoid showing people the storm in his eyes. They walk and walk and by the time they finally sit back in Sejin’s car, two shopping bags in the trunk, and drive on, Namjoon has created and dismissed a good six plans of action that seemed perfect at first and then turned out to be either impossible or unrealistic. He really doesn’t know what to do and coming back to his first issue - not being allowed to tell the members - almost drives his mind into overdrive.

How on earth does Pdnim expect me to take care of Jimin when I have to hide his secret identity? Because in the end, Namjoon is convinced that that’s exactly what it is - Jimin turning into a baby leopard for days counts as having a secret identity. And Yoongi was right - Namjoon is terrible at keeping secrets from the public. From the members? Even worse. Multiple scenarios run through his mind. He spills the tea in all of them. It’s just not- Namjoon just can’t imagine living with Jimin and practically raising him, experiencing the highs and lows of a developing character, of a developing person, celebrating first successes and mourning losses together and then not telling the members. It’s almost like the universe had heard Namjoon’s wish for a child of his own - and then given him a child he can’t show to his members. In some way, it’s ridiculous because he knows with all his being that he would have never managed to raise any of the maknaes without Jin or Hobi. The only relief is that Yoongi knows. Pragmatic Yoongi who can do anything he tries. That’s the only relief, Namjoon thinks.

All this rumbling discomfort inside his head makes Namjoon want to focus on something else, something outside of himself. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the ugly feeling of being alone - I am not alone. I will never be alone. It might take some time to dismantle all the lies that pop up in his head every now and then but not giving them the attention they cry out for is a first step. Namjoon’s fingertips tingle on the car window’s cold, wet glass.

Outside, Seoul has been dipped into an agitated grey glow that’s certainly thanks to the white clouds above, not a precious white, not a clean white either. It’s an old, used up white that reminds Namjoon of old carpets in need of thorough cleaning. Only a few seconds later, the thick clouds can’t hold their ugliness anymore and spill over with thick drops. It’s comforting, to see another thing burst out of their normal state - Namjoon feels the heavy rhythm of the water on the car and the relating echo in his soul. I wish I could spill over so carelessly too. But he can’t, he promised, so he just turns his consciousness back to the hazy grey of the world behind the window and sighs.

The more he focuses on the rain, the way that less and less people walk the streets, the thrum that tunes out everything else, the more he’s drawn to his memories with his members, almost as if the melancholy outside had snuck inside his head and drawn out memories of comfort.

Namjoon sees Taehyung sitting on his bed in their shared room. Yeontan lies halfway draped over his lap, napping with big hands carding through his fur softly. Outside, it is raining, inside, it is quiet that day.

“I want to write a song about the rain,” Taehyung says in a hushed tone, never taking his eyes off the window.

“What do you want to write?” 

Namjoon loves this about the younger boy - he can never really pinpoint what’s going on in Taehyung’s mind - Taehyung’s mind is a beautiful maze of creativity and emotions. Just inspiring - like listening to a new song for the first time and falling in love with it because it connects to something inside of you so deeply that not listening to it makes you feel like something is missing in your soul.

“The way rain falls - we think it’s sad because it’s water and water has so many purposes,” Taehyung pauses, “in summer, we play with it. We see it in the ocean, we drink it. But when it rains, the drops are reduced to falling, only falling helplessly. The fall must feel endless, the way we have nightmares of falling sometimes. Maybe that’s why people think rain is sad.”

Namjoon hums, trying not to let the intense amazement at those philosophical thoughts ruin their serene atmosphere.

“Do you want it to be a sad song?”

“No,” Taehyung says, “it should be comforting. Because water lives in a circle and falling means nothing if you know that your home is in the clouds, above the world and that you’ll always find your way back home. If you know this, even hitting the ground is not scary anymore. Rain is not sad - it’s a reminder that everything will be alright. Rain means don’t worry, you’ll be okay soon.”

Namjoon feels his heart swelling even now, even here in the car, as they drive through the streets of Seoul, passing taxis, business people, students and everyone else. No one knows this, no one else has shared this  moment with Taehyung, no one else thinks about rain just the same way. Not yet, anyway, not until the song has been finished. Namjoon loves these secrets that they have, these secrets and songs that are theirs to guard until it’s time to entrust them to the world. Not just once, he’s drawn strength from them. And now too, it makes him smile fondly. I love my members. I’d do anything for them. I can do this, too. Hitting the ground is okay, no matter how much it hurts. I will always find back home. Fighting, Namjoon.

Beside him, Sejin smiles. They pull up to the pet store.

Now, Namjoon is ready to stroll through pet store aisles with a pout on his lips and his shoulders hanging low, mind absently digging through his list of issues and his spiderweb of possible solutions. He is prepared to pick between red and blue and pink and green cat toys (which is stupid because cats are probably color-blind like dogs, right?) and to look for the fluffy stick-thingy Yoongi had mentioned. He’s ready to ask store employees for help when he can’t find litter boxes after half an hour of searching and yet suspecting that he’s run past them at least five times.

There’s one employee who’s keeping an eye on him (Namjoon can feel the gaze on his skin and wonders whether he’s starting to develop some sort of clairvoyant powers now that Jimin turned into a leopard) and whether it’s because she recognized him or whether he’s a suspicious customer, running through the same aisle five times, looking around helplessly and not even having one product in his hands despite having been in the store for half an hour now (yeah, that’s probably it). In the back of his mind, he still tries to figure out why in the world he would ever say yes when Sihyuk asked him if he would be okay on his own because he wanted to get something for his own dog as well. Sweat rolls down his back when his eyes go up and the employee has moved to stand directly in front of him.

“Hello, customer-ssi,” she greets, sweetly but with a flat tone, “how may I help you?”

“I, uh, I’m looking for uh, cat toys. For my cat.”

A shudder of as if that needed elaborating, Namjoon runs through Namjoon’s head and he knows that if Yoongi was standing next to him right now, he would facepalm and move away, stew in second-hand embarrassment from a safe distance. He smiles when the employee giggles softly and likes to think that just maybe, his stupid reply may have been a tiny spark of light in her boring work day, something to laugh about. It’s nice.

“Okay, the cat section is here,” she leads him over to another aisle that - no kidding - Namjoon didn’t even see before. Despite the big sign overhead. Am I blind- “you were standing in the mixed aisle before, so you’ll probably have better chances finding what you want here.”

He blushes, because this is really embarrassing, and thanks her with a nod. She probably thinks that he’s cute, or handsome, or whatever the nation thinks about him nowadays, but then he dares to look at her eyes and realizes that no, that’s not it, she probably thinks he’s a poor customer who doesn’t have a clue about anything because then she has mercy on him, yes, that’s a recognizable spark in her eyes that Seokjin also has when dealing with the mess Namjoon is and makes, and she asks, “Have you filled out the questionnaire yet?”

And see, that’s another thing that makes Namjoon feel so damn clueless. How was he supposed to know there was a questionnaire? Does every customer here fill it out? Or just the helpless idols?

“Questionnaire?”

“Yes, well. You look a little-“ she pauses, has to pick her words carefully because he is a customer and she doesn’t want to upset him (but the way she smiles like she’s giggling inside really lessens the punch) “-like this is your first time buying stuff for your cat. The questionnaire might help you figure out what type of cat yours is.”

Oh. There’s different types of cats?

“No, I haven’t.”

“Haven’t filled out the questionnaire or haven’t bought cat necessities?” (For your cat, Namjoon’s brain adds, just to taunt him. He winces.)

“Neither.”

“Oh, no worries,” that sounds cheerful, “I can help you, if you’d like.”

He nods graciously, genuinely thankful for her help although he’d usually insist on solitary shopping. Normally, people recognize him too quickly and the rest of his shopping trip turns into a race (it really feels like that sometimes) to get through the store without causing too much of a mass revolt in the streets (although in Korea it’s better than in other places). The woman - her name tag says Lee Kyungmi in an elegant font - pulls out a sheet of paper from somewhere and leads him to a quiet corner with two armchairs that are so fancy that for the first time in the whole half an hour he’s been here, Namjoon realizes how high-end the store actually is. Of course Sejin wouldn’t just take him to any store - they had to go to the frickin’ best because well, customer service, right? Confidentiality. Anonymity. Quality. Like so many other instances in his life, Namjoon is grateful for Sejin’s clear head.

“Let’s start here,” Kyungmi and points to the first question. “Have you shopped with us before?”

He ticks the box for “No”. Back when his family adopted Rapmon, they had bought all the stuff for her in some store in Ilsan and when he says they, he means mostly his mother and his sister.

“Tick the type of animal you’re shopping for.” He ticks cat and moves on. “How old is your pet?” And that’s where it gets complicated for the first time but Namjoon pulls through diligently and writes, “a few months.” Because while it’s difficult to guess and it’s not like he can just ask anyone to find out Jimin’s age let alone ask Jimin himself, Namjoon has seen documentaries about leopards and Jimin is definitely not a one year old leopard yet. Thank God. “What’s your pet’s breed?”

Well. That answer takes a while but Namjoon doesn’t want to look any more incompetent in front of the staff who is so kind to order them both a coffee from the store’s café further in the back. Namjoon is aware that he clearly can’t write leopard, so he settles for mixed breed. Mixed. Leopard and human.

“Does your pet spend most of its time inside or outside?”

And like that, Namjoon spends a good twenty minutes on answering all the questions on his pet’s fur, the living environment, the food (he improvises a little because yeah, of course he’s feeding Jimin only cat food from the can, of course, he’d never let him have stuff from the table) etc etc until he stops at the end of the page, smiling like he’s just won an award because finishing the questionnaire really feels that way. Until he lifts the paper. And sees the back. More questions.

“There’s a back!? How much do you want to know about my, uh, pet? Isn’t this like a pet tinder?”

Kyungmi laughs more, visibly unable to contain her bright laughter that seems a little out of place in this reverently quiet store (which is not that different from most high-end stores Namjoon’s visited) and Namjoon’s heart blooms when he thinks about the fact that he can make people laugh like that even without his music and rap and stage presence. Even on his own, without the members next to him.

“This is definitely not pet tinder, we’ve got a register for that in the back for registered pets. The next questions will be about your pet’s character. Whether it’s energetic or calm or a little diva. This information helps us to find the perfect toys and equipment for your pet and also, mix some customized food for the little one.”

Namjoon is stunned. If Jimin even knew the lengths I go for him today… Namjoon is glad that they moved to the chairs. They are comfortable, like lounge chairs in waiting rooms in the backstage areas of broadcasting stations. Chairs to fall asleep in. He can see Sejin strolling somewhere through the aisles, probably making use of the situation to buy stuff for his children’s pets as well.

“What is your pet’s favorite activity?” Jimin had enjoyed chasing that frog - hunting?

“What sets your pet apart from others?” He’s not actually a pet- its cuteness?

“Does it enjoy cuddling? Does it have a favorite person?” Yes, yes, yes. Definitely. He loves all his hyungs. - Do pets even have hyungs?

“Does it tolerate other people or pets in its territory?” Loves people, loves pets.

“How does it react in critical situations, e.g. when it’s taken to the vet?” …

Namjoon huffs. All the questions make sense but he can’t help but feel like the helplessly falling rain drops on their way into the sewers. There’s only so much to know about kitty Jimin after three days and his mind doesn’t seem to understand that the questionnaire definitely only wants answers about cat Jimin. Ah, this is difficult. He’s not sure whether Jimin has ever been to the vet even as a human (and suddenly, his mind can’t stop thinking about the possibility of having to take leopard Jimin to the vet for an examination - and all the shit human Jimin will give him for it afterwards). He groans and maybe that’s a sign for Kyungmi to start speaking.

“If you can’t or don’t want to fill out everything, that’s fine too. I’ll do my best to help you nonetheless.”

When he hands the questionnaire over and she’s read the answers, Kyungmi gets up and starts walking towards the cat section. Namjoon does his best to keep up and follow. Like the competent store staff she seems to be, Kyungmi grabs products with sure eyes and quick hands and puts them all into a basket while she explains.

“First of all, keeping a pet is both a great decision and a huge responsibility and we are proud of you for adopting your cat”, welp, Namjoon thinks, I’m living a lie, but then again, it does sort of feel like he adopted Jimin - just maybe in a different way, 7 years ago… “besides food, you need a variety of items to make your pet feel at home and cared for. Since your cat spends a lot of time inside and outside, you’ll need to brush its fur not only to clean it but also to check for ticks and other little insects that could be hidden underneath. Now, you wrote that your cat is a short-hair breed, so this is our shampoo segment for short fur. We recommend this one, this is a scent-free shampoo from a brand that only produces vegan and pet-friendly stuff. If you would like to check out this product line over here, we can surely find-“

The first package in Namjoon’s hands says “all fur types” on the front in red, big letters. Namjoon can’t help but wonder - is it really for all fur types? Would those shampoo companies develop their shampoo for wild cats too? Do wild cats have the same fur as small domestic cats? Namjoon isn’t bold enough to ask. But am I really the only person with this issue? In his head, Namjoon browses through all his contacts. Sadly, all the people he knows either have no pets or have never mentioned any pets and there are no shifters Namjoon knows other than Jimin. Suddenly, a thought pops up. I have seen wild cats before - at the zoo! Surely zoo employees would know which fur products are adequate for leopards, right? But... do we know anyone at the zoo? If not, can we just call them and ask? Is that a normal question? Do they have a hotline for desperate pet owners? It sounds… unlikely but Namjoon reminds himself that he’s an independent rain drop falling helplessly that only needs to find its way back home. He calls Yoongi.

“Namjoon? You alright?”

Yoongi sounds sleepy. Yoongi would never be bothered to worry about falling from the clouds. Namjoon excuses himself from Kyungmi and walks a few steps away. He whispers.

“Hyung, do we anyone who works at the zoo?”

“Why are you whispering? Also, I don’t know? Why are you asking?”

“It’s…”, the words I’m overwhelmed by the amount of cat shampoo in this shop and you were the first person I thought to call because I don’t think there’s an actual zoo hotline I could call for help sound a bit ridiculous, so Namjoon figures he’ll solve this problem on his own. “Ah, no, it’s nothing. Sorry for calling, hyung.”

“No, I just don’t understand… but maybe ask Tae? He’s the people expert.”

“Thanks, Hyung! Sleep well.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

His voice is raspy, deep. A little purr comes through the phone and Namjoon can just picture it - Yoongi on his sofa, head on a pillow, Jimin on his chest. Napping. He ends the call. A new image pops up in his mind - isn’t there some YouTube channel Jimin and Jungkook watch sometimes? Some guy who takes care of lions and leopards? Something like that? A… Dan Richard? Just Richard? Suddenly, Namjoon wishes he’d paid a little more attention to his dongsaeng’s YouTube interests. Maybe I’ll look this Richard guy up and ask for help. He thinks he remembers that Jungkook had once exclaimed that the guy was famous and that he would love to visit that place one day - that he would love to just meet the lions too, play with them. Jungkook is a thrill-seeker. He’s crazy. But now, Namjoon smiles. I’ll definitely text him. Later.

Kyungmi still smiles politely when he turns back to her and carries on with her informative rant about shampoo.

Namjoon feels like his arm is ready to fall off after having carried his little basket of cat stuff for only ten minutes. Kyungmi is still giving him a lecture on how to measure his darling pet’s temperature (revelation of the day - one does not simply take the temperature in the cat’s mouth, no) when his eyes flick to the toys just a few shelves further. To be honest, Namjoon has never ever in his life imagined to stick a thermometer any place other than Jimin’s ears or mouth and he figures he shouldn’t start now, so he starts slinking away slowly, step by step. It’s unsettling how guilty he feels for ignoring Kyungmi’s speech - why do I feel so guilty?

But the toys are beckoning him over like nothing else in this store and then, he’s standing in front of them. He’s happy, somehow, and thinks that if he were an Animal Crossing character, he would start having sparkles or flowers around his head right now, blushing and swaying on his feet. Sejin sends him a thumbs up from where he’s sitting in the lounge chairs from before, two fancy paper bags at his feet.

Wow, there’s so much variation, Namjoon thinks, surprised that people have come up with so many things just to entertain their pets. Kyungmi comes up next to him, still cheerful, still in her element and not seeming like she’s mad at him for escaping her waterfall-like explanation speeches.

“I would recommend a chewing toy of some sort,” she says, pointing at some boxes. “You wrote that he’s only a few months old, so he might still be teething.”

“Yeah, he chews on our fingers a lot,” Namjoon agrees and grabs a little heart shaped pillow that looks good to bite into. For cats. It resembles Tata a little bit but probably not enough to make Jimin feel guilty for chewing it up.

“Is this good?”

“Depends,” Kyungmi says and brings out something from the aisle on the opposite site, “does your cat get distracted easily?”

“Sometimes?”

Jimin generally has a good concentration span. But when other people are around, it sure is easier for him to get distracted. The burdens of a people-oriented mind.

“Well, we always recommend toys with safe seams, adequate texturing, organic materials and a high fun factor for your cat. Of course it should also be washable, with all the slobber and dirt it will encounter. Are you looking for a toy with catnip or without?”

Catnip? Namjoon has heard of it. Of course. Who hasn’t seen those cat videos on YouTube with cats going crazy after taking a whiff of catnip? Usually, they roll around in it and then nap the high off, which seems harmless. But he’s not sure whether that’s a good idea. Isn’t catnip like a drug for cats? If so, the agency probably won’t allow it. Also, Namjoon really doesn’t want to drug Jimin.

“Without, please.”

“Are you sure? It does help to create a bigger and longer interest for a toy. Not all cats like it, but most do. But if you want, we can find other toys that are interesting for your cat.”

Namjoon nods and together, they decide on a couple of hand-sewn mice with dangling twisted rope tails for Jimin to chase. The eyes are sewn on to prevent swallowing. The mice almost look too cute to buy and the thought of finding them wet and chewn out on the sofa makes Namjoon wrinkle his nose in disgust but then his mind wanders to the little picked apart frog Jimin had killed in their backyard and that’s enough motivation to buy them all. Kyungmi hands him another chew toy that has some floss material on it and she explains that it not only helps with dental hygiene but that it is also supposed to lessen bad breath. We definitely need that, Namjoon thinks, quietly to himself, because every pet’s breath stinks. That’s just a universal fact. Sorry, Jimin.

“Do you want it in blue or pink?”

Honestly, after all the running around, the two quickly filling shopping bags that weigh down his arms and the relentless chatter from Kyungmi, this simple question sinks the ship. As much as Namjoon enjoys picking stuff for his dongsaengs, he’s tired. Does it matter? Does the color really matter? He doesn’t know whether future human Jimin would be offended by his choices when it comes down to colors but he does know that Jimin is particular about style. Kitten Jimin however is a completely different story that Namjoon actually doesn’t know anything about. He might have a completely different taste from his human counterpart. The only thing Namjoon knows is that Seokjin once bought a hat for Jimin that the dancer thought was completely hideous. The next time he saw it was in Hoseok’s section of their shared wardrobe. Up to this day, Jimin hasn’t worn it even once.

“We also have them in yellow, green and black, if you think he’d like those better,” Kyungmi adds, not even aware of the trouble she’s causing. No, Namjoon does not know if Jimin would like those better because Jimin is not Jungkook and not Yoongi and will therefore not sympathize with the black toy by default.

For a second, Namjoon tries to put himself in Jimin’s shoes. These toys are gonna stay with him for a while. What if he doesn’t like them and we have to keep them until we are in Seoul the next time? Even if we order stuff, if we are on the road, we won’t get them delivered and Jimin will have to make do with these. Namjoon thinks back to his old phone case that was an accidental and careless order, and remembers how annoying it is to look at something every day if you don’t like it. No, he’ll do the best he can to make sure Jimin likes his cat toys.

He freezes. His eyes wander down to the shopping bags he’s already holding. Will Jimin like the other things I have picked? A wave of uncertainty rushes through him and he’s tempted to just push it all back into Kyungmi’s arms, leave the store and come back with Jimin once he’s shifted back so he can choose everything himself. But he is aware of how that would look. Kyungmi is still waiting for his answer and the headache that’s building is not helping at all. So, Namjoon is ready to take extreme measures. He pulls his phone out and dials Yoongi’s number. It takes three tries to get him on the line but for his dongsaengs, Namjoon has learned persistence.

“What is it now?”

“Hyung, which color do you think the, uh, the cat would like best when it comes to toys?”

Namjoon only realizes now that they should have maybe come up with a codename for Jimin. Just in case he’d ever need to talk about his kitty alter ego in front of other people who are not supposed to know. Perhaps Yoongi realizes the same thing. Perhaps Yoongi doesn’t care. His incredulous answer on the other side is a little… unhelpful.

“What are you asking me? Am I a cat? Just bring anything, Namjoon-ah. I don’t care about the color as long as Jiminie doesn’t tear my flesh and bones apart. He might look harmless but I swear he’ll be a beast later.”

“You’re so dramatic, hyung.”

“I’m truthful. He keeps chewing up my fingers.”

“Okay, but… do you think,” Namjoon turns away from Kyungmi and whispers, just to make sure, “do you think he’d like something more, uh, Chanel, or, like a cat bed from Versace? Because this store is high-end but if he doesn’t like it-“

Yoongi just huffs on the line and Namjoon feels a heavy weight in his chest. How am I supposed to take care of Jimin if I don’t know what Jimin wants? How could I know? How can any of us know? Maybe there are specific brands that are popular with shifters? Should I call Jackson? But no, Jackson is probably sleeping right now, if he’s in Europe. Namjoon whines.

“Hyung…”

“Namjoon-ah. Don’t lose your mind over this. Just bring anything and we’ll all be happy.”

“But what if- what if he doesn’t like it?”

Namjoon can’t help it. He doesn’t want Jimin to be disappointed in his hyungs when he shifts back. He wants Jimin to feel safe and loved and honored to be taken care of by his hyungs.

“Then we’ll return it. Keep the receipt, Namjoon, and don’t worry. Just buy the basics and if he wants additional things, we’ll order them, okay?”

“Okay, hyung.”

Something crashes. Yoongi groans.

“Okay. I have to wipe up a mess. See you later, Joon.”

“See you,” Namjoon mumbles, a tiny bit reassured. Rain means don’t worry, you’ll be okay. He turns back to Kyungmi, who has once again waited politely. He lifts the bags on his arms.

“My hyung said to just buy the basics.”

“I think we’ve got everything then. Would you like to pay?”

“Oh, just one more thing. I need something, uh, like a stick for cats? Hyung said it’s important.”

“A stick? For chewing on?”

“No, for playing.”

To be honest, Namjoon has no idea what this specifc toy looks like. He’s just grateful when Kyungmi leads him to a special section. The toys look like… fishing rods. For cats.

“I think this is what you meant.”

“Are these… fishing rods?”

Kyungmi laughs. “I guess you could call them fishing rods.”

“I thought cats fish with their paws.”

“Oh no, they are for the cats.”

Namjoon doesn’t... understand? It’s like his brain is frozen. The concept is just so weird. Why would cats need fishing rods?

“Oh, you mean for the owners to fish the cat?”

“Yes, kind of. You hold the stick and the cat chases after it. You see this fluffy part at the end, right? It will awaken your kitty’s natural hunting instincts.”

Namjoon gasps. Awaken their natural hunting instincts? Do I want that?

“Isn’t that… dangerous?”

“On the opposite, it’s essential.”

The image of a leopard on a prowl inside their apartment makes Namjoon feel a little different. It’s essential, he tells himself. Kyungmi is the expert. Don’t worry. It’s essential.

“Okay, I’ll take a few.”

“Very good. I would have recommended taking more than one anyway, in case the cat breaks it.”

Namjoon nods, smiling. Right. In case the cat breaks it.

“Would you like to pay now?”

“Sure.”

Sinking into Sejin’s car seat feels like a welcome break from running a marathon. Namjoon thinks he should have maybe not put on dress shoes but sneakers this morning. But he couldn’t have known the day would take such a turn, so this is how it is. They drive for a while before Namjoon realizes that this is not the way home. It seems like they are driving away from Gangnam, not towards it.

“Hyung, where are we going now?”

“Well, you expressed that you wanted to go somewhere serene and calming, so I’m taking you somewhere you can relax.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Yes you did. You sighed, checked your phone, scrolled to Jin’s contact, looked at it while we stopped and waited at three different street lights, then you sighed again, shut your phone off and stared into the distance. You’re an easy read.”

Namjoon is speechless, blushes at how Sejin chuckles and wriggles his fingers in his lap.

“Thank you, hyung,” is what he presses out, almost quieter then he wants, thanks to the heavy blanket of emotions falling over his mind.

“Also,” Sejin adds, “you always look for quiet places to figure out your troubles. That’s you. And I said I’d support you, so this is the first responder emergency aid you get.” A chuckle rips free from Namjoon’s chest and he leans back comfortably.

Like before, a sweet rumble runs through the car once Namjoon’s mind finds the peace to concentrate on it. It’s soothing, like a little lullaby as the city’s shapes fly past the window. The only difference to this morning are the empty backseat where Jimin’s, no, Yeontan’s travel box had stood, and the slight worry that pulls both Namjoon’s brows and shoulders down. Worry for Jimin that is completely unnecessary since Jimin is safety entrusted to Yoongi. Yoongi who has a way with words, a way with trivia knowledge and a way with cats, as it seems.

Namjoon is aware - as aware as everyone else in the band - of the fan’s obsession with Lil’ Meow Meow, and he sometimes he wonders whether it affects Yoongi. Whether his feelings towards the nickname are positive or indifferent, or whether is ever pops up in Yoongi’s head at random times. Whether his friends ever tease him about it like Jackson teases Namjoon about being the Dad of the group. There is only this way of wondering because Namjoon doesn’t feel confident to ask Yoongi about it - its a peculiar thing, this theme of Yoongi as a cat - and somehow, Namjoon feels like asking about it would make him sound… suspicious. Like maybe asking about it could make it sound like he’s accepted it and he isn’t sure what Yoongi will think. Because Namjoon never thinks that his best friend acts or looks like a cat. Never. He’s never scrolled through a so-called Yoongi and Cats thread on twitter. (What’s a twitter? Never heard of it. Can you eat that?)

Namjoon wonders if people would still call Yoongi a cat if they found out about Jimin. Or if they would draw sketches and write (actually tear-inducingly) good stories about kitty hyung Yoongi and baby kitty Jimin. Well, he wouldn’t ever get to know.

Because ARMY wouldn’t find out.

Because not even the members would.

Namjoon sighs and turns his eyes back to the rain outside.

When Namjoon first moves to actually register the outside world passing by instead of gazing outside with dead eyes, he realizes with a start that Sejin has either lied or misunderstood the words “serene, calming place”. The manager drives their car onto the parking lot of a restaurant that looks oddly familiar, like a faraway memory of an uncle you’ve seen once and just shortly but who has left a lasting impression by sneaking you a piece of cake or something. 

We’ve been here before, Namjoon realizes, for lunch. He remembers how the news of BTS’s presence here had sort of blown up the restaurant’s little circle of regular guests and made it into countless online reviews that in the end boosted the restaurant’s ratings and even led to a well-deserved renovation. That had been during their era of first wins, first apartment moves and first everythings in the spotlight and if he didn’t know better, Namjoon would say that their present had been hammering against the egg shell of their past even then, that their success had already been a firm knot in their lines of fate back then. But that is bullshit, just the way success by hard work to the bones could never be replaced by success gained by just looking pretty, and Namjoon smiles fondly, almost feeling a sense of touching connectedness to the place. Almost as if this little restaurant has grown up with them. As if it understood their troubles. Maybe “serene” and “calming” fit just right.

Vague memories start to creep back right then, vague memories of a tired maknae surrounded by even more tired hyungs, everyone eating with aching thighs, aching calves, aching everythings, and greasy food that did everything it promised on the photos on the menu. Namjoon remembers the rides there and back, remembers the sleepy faces, the happy snapshots in between, reasons to celebrate their togetherness, and even a distant voice mentioning that a relative of Sejin worked here. It must be meaningful for hyung to come here too. Over the entrance, a big white sign says Geum-wol in brushed golden hangul. Golden month. In the sun, the letters look piercingly bright.

“We’re going to eat?”

“If you want to.”

“I’m not very hungry yet. But I think I could use some food. Some soul food.”

“I promise you won’t regret it. They changed their menu along with their remodeling a couple of years ago.”

A shiny glimmer sparks from Sejin’s eyes and Namjoon has to work on holding back a giggle. It’s the same, really, it’s exactly the same as Jin-hyung’s I-see-food glimmer. “I’m sure I’ll love it if you do, hyung.”

From years of shared meals, boring breaks in between recording sessions at broadcasting stations and backstage eating sessions, the whole band knows their staff members. There’s not much that actually goes past them when it happens in the same room. Fourteen eyes see a lot of things, even things people wouldn’t think they would notice. They know which types of snack to bring to bribe a specific staff member and they know that Sejin generally has good taste (all of their tastebuds have evolved, Seokjin always insists, along with the success of their company).

Upon entering the restaurant, Namjoon feels like he’s stepping into someone’s living room. A fancy, warm and welcoming living room. It has a lush arrangement of plants, clearly well-loved and well-cared for and fantastically arranged (Namjoon spots that little cactus on the windowsill covered in tiny drops of water that sparkle in the sunlight like royal jewelry and just knows that he is in love). The painted linens and calligraphed drawings lead his surprised mind to the Joseon era, eagerly lapping up his memories from tv shows and stories and books and bundling them all together in this spot where an attentive waitress in a fancy outfit leads them to a table.

“They did a great job with the remodeling,” Namjoon says, unable to tear his eyes off the golden decor that doesn’t look cheap and the beautifully arranged sets on the low table. Even the pillow underneath his bottom is an invitation to relax.

“I love it here,” Sejin nods, smile wide. “It feels like coming home and going on an adventure at the same time.”

Yes, Namjoon thinks, feeling the blood in his veins stir a little. An adventure but also home.

“Hyung, what’s home to you? Seoul or Ilsan?”

It’s a difficult question. If Namjoon wasn’t so close to their manager, it might even be a rude question and he would possibly not be bold enough to ask anything else for the rest of their meal here. Sejin just thinks.

“It’s possible for a person to have more than one home, you know? At least that’s what I think.”

Of course, Namjoon can empathize with that. He’s got a big heart home in the members and then another, with his blood-related family.

“So, home is where my wife and children are, but home is also with you guys. I miss you when I go home, can you believe it?”

Namjoon chuckles.

“Of course. We’re the best, so sweet and so nice and so cute - I’d miss me too if I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, shut up. Jin’s ego is rubbing off on you.”

They both laugh until the waitress returns to take their orders and even then, the glimmer in their eyes doesn’t disappear.

Namjoon’s chest feels warm. Maybe we don’t need to eat here anymore. Maybe this conversation was enough comfort already.

It takes a while for the food to come through the restaurant’s kitchen doors that are hidden behind a noble dark-wood door decoration. Everything here looks noble in a way, Namjoon notices, but not without losing the effect of feeling gently familiar, almost loving. That kind of atmosphere is something Namjoon hasn’t even experienced in noble restaurants before, so he sinks into his fluffy seat cushion, letting himself enjoy the treat thoroughly. Because it is a treat - a feast for the weary-hearted that can’t go home to their families, either because they have to stay here or because the family is not at home. The green plants in the genuinely ancient looking pots (some have gold-plated rims, some are glazed, some are engraved or painted with artful poetry and all of them are twitter-worthy) offer silent comfort, sometimes swishing their arms, sometimes just staying rooted in the fresh dark earth and reminding every onlooker about altruism, virtues like endurance and quiet resilience.

When the food arrives, Namjoon kind of feels sated in a non-physical way. His heart doesn’t seem so heavy like before. It’s like someone has gently kneeled at the edge of his heart to shake up the stiff earth in it. It’s nice. Paired with the soothing voice of Sejin, the type of questions he asks now and then (all of them optimistic, in a distracting way “I heard from Yoongi that you wanted to look for a new bed, did you already find something you’d like?” and “Will you publish your new mixtape soon? My kids listen to mono to fall asleep but my wife said that at this point, she could probably perform it live.”) and together with the delicious food in front of his nose, Namjoon almost feels like he’s escaped to another world. Another world where he isn’t famous, where he isn’t living this life but some other version of it, where all his decisions had been different but led him to this little restaurant nonetheless, and there he is, sitting at the axis point where all the versions of him flow together into this one moment. It’s magical, like glowing dust floating in the air, like the first flakes of snow landing on your face. The light of the sun slides past the beautiful gold-ornamented silk curtains of the restaurant, revealing a gorgeous view on the side of Achasan Mountain that’s lushly green thanks to the trees on it. It’s basically an invitation to dream, to imagine, and Namjoon’s eyes can’t really get enough of it.

“Hyung, have you ever had a secret that you were so afraid to tell that you lied to keep it?”

Sejin sighs into his spoon of rice.

“You know what I think about lying,” he starts and Namjoon nods. Lying means breaking trust, Namjoon-ah. Never lie to your members. During their entire time together, he can’t remember ever seeing Sejin lie. “I usually don’t keep secrets either. Not bad ones, at least. But there was one.”

“Was it bad that you lied back then?”

“Yes, the consequences were bad but the worst thing was that I didn’t say the truth. Even though I apologized, the regret stays with me and every time I look at that person, I feel it again.”

“Hyung, I don’t want to feel that way towards the members.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“Do you think it will be that easy?”

“I honestly don’t know what I think it will be like with Jimin. Maybe you are lucky and the members are back before he shifts back so they can see for themselves. Didn’t you send something to the group chat already?”

“How do you know?”

“Jungkookie sent me a text asking if we got him a surprise pet. He sounded very hopeful. He even used the heart-eye emoji.”

“Oh no. What did you answer?”

“I wrote ‘Ask your hyungs.’ Nothing else. That was before you called me to come back here.”

Namjoon groans and figures that Jungkook will have to wait. No new pets for a while, sorry Jungkook.

“I don’t think I’m ready to be a cat owner.”

Sejin huffs, amused. “The universe thinks you are.”

“Well, I don’t think so and that’s what counts. Even the maknaes would be better at handling a cat than me.”

“That’s not true. Jungkook - I swear, this kid doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation, so I don’t even want to think about what he’d do with Jimin. Tae… well. He’d probably slide into depression without Jimin to talk to so let’s not think about that. I think we can agree there’s no one better than Hoseok to deal with such a thing if he doesn’t freak out about it but you follow close behind, just after Yoongi and Seokjin.“

“Hyung, that was a shitty argument.”

“At the same time,” Sejin says with a look that says I wasn’t done, “Kook loves Jimin to death and would do anything to make him feel better. Taehyung has studied up on dogs and dog training for half a year before adopting Yeontan. Imagine how much more he’ll do for his soulmate.”

The look Sejin gives him is serious and even when they are brought drinks and the girl from before leaves again, the serious expression does not leave Sejin’s eyes.

“Hyung, just think logically for a second. Jiminie is a tiny fragile cat baby, a rare leopard cub and I am a helpless clumsy idiot who can’t even take care of himself. How do we match well in your eyes?”

“You don’t need to match. Honestly, other than Jimin being smaller than usual and not being able to speak, there’s no difference to living together as usual. You take care of him and he looks up to you. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

He starts chuckling a second later when he realizes the unintentional pun. Namjoon frowns.

“I disagree. This morning I almost squished Jimin between the fridge and the fridge door. It’s not exactly safe for him to be around me. He’s too curious and I’m just clumsy. Did you see the printer ink in his fur?”

“It’s not a big deal, Namjoon.”

“Besides, Yoongi takes care of him way better than me.”

“Allow yourself room for improvement and learning.”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt him.”

“So be more careful. You haven’t killed any of your band mates yet, so I don’t think it will happen any time soon.”

“Yeah, but they have all been human and with a fully functioning human mind for the past seven years. They know how to dodge the danger.”

“Animals have pretty good instincts, too. I think Jimin won’t need help to dodge your accidents once he’s out of his toddler phase. And don’t forget that all of you can take care of Jimin in different ways, each of you plays their own role. It will all be fine.”

The food arrives and is daunting enough to drag Namjoon’s rumbling thoughts away from his hardships. There’s soup, there’s rice, there’s vegetables and meat, and it’s beautifully arranged and beautifully steamy and just the scent could throw a man off his horse in desperate hunger. It’s heaven. At the first spoon of soup, Namjoon understands why Sejin brought him here. Comfort spreads in his tummy like a sweet melody. He sighs, almost tearing up over simple Korean soul food.

“Thank you, hyung.”

Sejin’s smile is kind.

“You know we love you like you’re our own children, right? Sihyuk-hyung and I. Of course, seeing my own children being born was different but you are my family too. We always want the best for you, we want you to go forward with boldness and integrity.”

“You’re doing well, hyung.”

Of course it’s a little strange to think of their CEO and their manager as parental figures in general but after sharing his life with them for the last decade, Namjoon figures his own parents wouldn’t even be mad if he suddenly called any of them appa by accident. He smiles when he remembers all the times a sleepy Jungkook has called other people appa without even noticing. It had always resulted in a hand carding through his hair, a warm “aigoo, our sleepy maknae, are you warm enough?” and lovely feelings of family.

“Namjoon-ah, what if this is an opportunity?”

“What do you mean? An opportunity how?”

“We haven’t heard of shapeshifters before Jimin turned into one, right?”

“I haven’t. It truly feels like a mind-blowing discovery. Only that it’s not a discovery exactly because apparently, shapeshifters have existed all the time.”

“But it means that they must be hiding in society. Why?”

Namjoon pauses. Why are they hiding? In the end, he supposes shifters - supernaturals in general -  are like every other human being.

“Afraid of discrimination? Racism? I don’t know, hyung. I’m still hung up on how I didn’t know about this although one of my best friends has literally been a hybrid his entire life.”

“A hybrid? What the heck is a hybrid? And who’s a hybrid?”

Oh. Right.

“Uh, well. It’s more like Spiderman… more permanent? More all the time? I don’t know, I’m bad at explaining this.”

“Spiderman is a hybrid? Wow, I never thought about it this way.”

“No, I mean, yeah, I guess? But hybrids are people with animal features? I think? Like, a tail or animal ears?”

“Like in anime?”

“Basically. I don’t know too much about it but it seems to be that way.”

“Wow. That must be really difficult to hide.”

“I’m sure it is.”

How does Jackson hide it? Now that Namjoon thinks about it, he has seen Jackson without a cap on his head or loose pants to shove the tail in before and not seen any animal features. How is that possible? He then realizes that Jackson’s managers and company must know. They must have the editors photoshop his animal features out on every photo, even every video. Wow. That must be such a huge effort. And expensive. What a hassle it must be for stage appearances, interviews and even just walking freely on the street. All of the sudden, Namjoon feels grateful Jimin isn’t a hybrid. The company wouldn’t have been able to pay so much money to edit every shot of him so extensively back then. They wouldn’t have accepted him.

“So, hybrids are different from shapeshifters, right?”

“Yes, hybrids can’t turn into animals.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, letting the new information and thoughts sink in along with the food. Namjoon realizes he’s both a little grateful and a bit bummed that Jimin didn’t turn into a hybrid. It would have been impossible to hide from the members then. He wouldn’t have to tell them anything, they could all figure it out, Jimin wouldn’t turn into some animal that can’t speak, he would just be a normal human being with some extra parts and that would be it. They could deal with it so much more easily - probably. But Namjoon reminds himself that that line of thought is just based on assumptions. There’s probably no perfect option between those two if you’re a performer.

“Do…do you think the members are going to figure it out themselves?”

“I think they’re all smart enough to.”

“So… just a maybe?”

“I can’t tell the future, Namjoon-ah.”

“I know, I just… I just don’t want to be alone with this.”

“Are you?”

“I guess I’m not but… I’m just so glad that we are seven members. Because we share our lives, our feelings and our fears all the time. That’s where we all draw our strength from. Keeping a secret like this from the members… I don’t want to break their trust. Isn’t it my responsibility to tell them about this? This is such a huge change and it’s not fair to just… I don’t think this is right, hyung.”

“If a secret becomes a prison, it doesn’t deserve to be kept, Namjoon. You’re too precious to cut yourself down just to please someone else.”

“Hyung, are you telling me… to tell someone?”

“I’m telling you to do the right thing. If you know the right thing is to tell the members and you take action, you will have to bear the consequences. I’m never for disobeying authority - especially PDnim because I know he tries to do the best for all of us - but if you feel burdened and like you have to mute yourself to keep your promise, then it’s not worth it. You should definitely talk to PDnim. I’m sure that he will understand. Maybe not today, though. Give him a night to think about it all. He might have not seemed surprised but it’s a huge change for him too. It’s a given that any impulsive decisions may need revision.”

“He should have been prepared for this day, especially if he knew about Jimin from the beginning.”

“Yeah, I agree. I think this decision just shows that PDnim is just human too. He made a mistake, just like you have in the past and still do. Also, ‘doing the right thing’ looks different through every person’s eyes so who knows how we would have decided to do things in his place.”

“I know.”

“Everyone needs room for learning. Do you still trust PDnim?”

“Of course. I know he will fight for us no matter what.”

“Then I don’t think you need to worry about the members.”

Namjoon nods and goes back to his food, forcing himself to just stop thinking about this issue. I’m not doing myself a favor if I overthink this. So he focuses on the food that’s before him. It’s really delicious, coating his tongue and all the tastebuds on it - but he can’t help but notice the taste of disappointment mixing in. What do I need? What am I looking for? Is it just support? Do I want pity? Advice? He chews, lets his eyes wander over all the other restaurant guests. Some seem happy, some are engrossed in the food or their friends. They all seem free of worry, even if just for the moment. I want my worries taken away. To be reassured.

“Hyung, can I call Jin-hyung?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Would you be mad at me if I told him?”

“Namjoon-ah. Do what you feel is right. You know I respect you.”

“Thank you, hyung.”

“Why do you want to tell Jin specifically?”

“Well, he’s the oldest so I guess he should know. Also, realistically speaking, Taehyungie and Jiminie are like, actual soulmates so I guess Tae would either figure it all out on his own or Jimin would tell him. Hobi is Jimin’s roommate so he can’t avoid noticing any significant changes about Jimin. And Kookie - Kookie is pretty observant about Jimin too whenever he doesn’t give him heart eyes. No, I think telling Jin-hyung makes the most sense. He feels responsible for the maknaes so I think he’d be the most upset about not being told - not because he’d feel left out but because he couldn’t have cared for Jimin the way he needs it.”

“You’re a good leader, Namjoon-ah. I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t make me blush, hyung. It’s just… strategy.”

“Mhm,” Sejin says, cheerfully winking.

Namjoon groans and rolls his eyes at the enthusiastic chuckling behind him. He finds a free table in a calmer part of the restaurant and takes out his phone. The window next to him comes with a good view on the wooden slope of a hill just behind the end of the parking lot.

For a moment, Namjoon tries to sort of soak up the freshness and calm from outside to reenergize himself for this serious talk with Jin. The green of the trees pulses with life, like a painting so fresh and excessive that the colors threaten to run down the canvas in a semblance of invigoration, and he sincerely wishes the city would look like that more often. Although the air outside is still hazy from the rain before, everything spreads out in a vivid picture in front of Namjoon. So beautiful.

The phone rings four times before Jin picks up. His voice is super groggy.

“Hello? Joon, that you?”

“Hi hyung,” Namjoon says softly, grateful for his hyung’s voice against his ear. So close, almost warm. “Where are you right now?”

“In bed.”

There’s rustling, probably blankets and pillows. Namjoon checks the time. It’s 2 pm. Typical Jin. No worries at all. “You won’t believe it, we’re at Kookie’s parents’ place and we stayed up late yesterday to play games with Kook’s brother. So I’m in the guest room and guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s the middle of the night, a light falls on my bed and I think it’s a ghost but it’s Kook standing in the doorway. Says he feels lonely without his hyungs so he comes to sleep with me instead of in his own bed. He’s been clinging to me like a monkey-“

There’s a deep groan of annoyance in the background and suddenly, slapping sounds.

“Are you fighting?”

Yelling, more rustling, the thump of a body hitting the floor. Namjoon can’t help but grin at the image of his bickering brothers even if he goes unheard. This normality feels good. This being together feels good. There’s laughter in the background, so loud and explosive Namjoon basically feels it spilling out of his phone. When he looks around to apologize for disrupting other restaurant guests, no one even looks his way. Jin laughs.

“Sorry, Namjoon-ah, there’s a noisy teenager next to me. You know how they get. Where were we?”

“Hyung, we didn’t even start talking…”

“Ah, right. Well, why are you calling? Is everything alright?”

“Um, define alright.”

Seokjin pauses. Namjoon knows he understands and he can already sense Jin’s answer coming.

“I can come back earlier, you know. It’s not a problem for me.”

“No, hyung, it’s fine. Sejin-hyung and I are dealing with everything, so it’s all good, I just wanted to tell you an imp-“

“Sejin-hyung is there!? He was on vacation! What happened, you little punk? There’s no way everything’s alright if you had to call Sejin-hyung!“

Oops, Namjoon’s brain helpfully provides. He clenches his jaw as Seokjin rambles on in the background, about how he’s gonna pack his suitcase and come right back and about Jimin and his sickness and everything - Namjoon feels his head ache.

“Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon can’t focus. It’s as if something draws his gaze away from the creamy white tablecloth and the golden decorations and outside the window. They land on a little violet spot by the parked cars - a moving spot. It moves around a black car. Sejin’s car. The man wearing the violet - it’s a modern violet durumagi, a noble-looking Hanbok overcoat - is walking around Sejin’s car, looking inside. Namjoon freezes, doesn’t hear the restaurant, doesn’t hear Jin’s voice. Is that a stalker? Did he recognize our car? The man circles the car as if he expects a BTS member to sit inside of it and Namjoon feels a little sick. I hope he won’t come- the man looks at him. Their eyes meet. Time stops for a horrifying moment. Namjoon’s blood freezes, the trees pulse along with his heart, moving in on him with force. Like a fly in a spider’s net, he feels caught. He can’t move even if the eyes pierce through him as if they see into his soul or even beyond. Namjoon’s breath falters and he gasps when Sejin’s hand suddenly lands on his shoulder. He grasps it, needs the warmth to ground himself, to come back, to calm his soul. To find his sanity, possibly.

“Hey, sorry, it’s just me. Are you okay?”

Namjoon nods numbly, realizes that Jin is still on the phone, repeating his name.

“Jin-hyung?”

“Thank God you’re still there. What happened? You scared me.”

“I’ll call you back later, hyung. Don’t worry, okay? Sorry.”

When he hangs up and puts his phone back on the table with shaky hands, the man in the durumagi outside in the parking lot is gone.

“Are you alright? You look… you’re trembling.”

“Hyung, did you see the man outside? Just now?”

“The man?”

“He stood by your car. I think it might have been a stalker, hyung. Can we leave? I don’t feel safe.”

Sejin gives him an immediate reaction and Namjoon feels grateful for his hyung and manager who always takes him seriously if need be.

“Of course.”

“Hyung, he was so scary. He looked right at me.”

“I’ll ask if we can leave through the back. Come on.”

“Thank you.”

Together, they walk up to the waiter’s area. Namjoon doesn’t hear the conversation between Sejin and the kind waitress from before, only sees her eyes widening from the corner of his eye while he trains his gaze on the entrance of the restaurant. Just when he thinks he spots a a hunch of violet, Sejin’s hand on his lower back pushes him forward and he’s led through a door, they wait for a while, something rustles and a key clicks. Then, fresh air, a quick walk, Sejin’s car. When Sejin’s door closes and the motor turns on and the car starts rumbling, Namjoon feels the ice in his stomach start to melt. He can only start breathing again when they are off the parking lot.

“I’m sorry this happened,” Sejin says quietly. “I wanted you to have a great time.”

“Not your fault, hyung. People do what they want.”

“Yeah.”

The engine starts and Sejin begins to pull out of the parking lot. Namjoon keeps an eye on the area behind them just to see if the man in the violet durumagi appears again. Nothing. He sinks into his seat as they drive further away.

“I’ll take you to the perfect place. You’ll love it.”

“Okay.”

“It’s one of my favorite places in Seoul but you won’t expect it because I’ve never taken you there and you normally don’t ever go there.”

Namjoon feels numb. Sejin’s words kind of go through his ears but don’t find his brain. It’s been a while since something like this happened. He realizes that he’s holding a plastic bag in his hands, on his lap. Warmth seeps into his thighs.

“Are these…?”

“They insisted on giving us food for compensation.”

“It wasn't their fault.”

“They wished you and the members health and strength for the upcoming promotions, too.”

Namjoon nods, feeling tired. He puts his head against the window, lets his eyes jump from color to color, finding a home in the blur and allows himself to drift off.

“Wake up, we’re here.”

It’s a car wash street, the kind where you throw some coins into a coin slot, then park your car inside the washing tunnel and run out as fast as you can as soon as the lights turn on and the brushes come to life and the water starts to spray. Namjoon is not sure whether that’s really the so highly praised destination Sejin planned to go to to relax and be comforted or if he just decided to make a joke. (Or clean the car, for some reason.) On the other hand, it puts a check behind all the characteristics of the mystery location Sejin had revealed. A place you wouldn’t expect? check. A place you never go to? Check. Check, check, check. Now, Namjoon wouldn’t necessarily say that car wash street would be a place he’d ever want to be at, but if he knows anything after traveling half the world with his band mates and staff, it’s that it’s not the places you visit that count but the people you visit there with. So he smiles, allowing some childish giddiness to build up in his stomach at the surprise that Sejin has for him. Whatever it is.

“Let’s go, hyung. Show me what you had in mind.”

Sejin smiles and drives a little closer to the washing street. They wait until the car in front of them is done, which takes exactly one run-through of Zion T’s Eat on the radio and then, Sejin pays and slowly drives forward until the display in front of them tells them to stop.

“Do we run now, hyung?”

Namjoon feels a bit of adrenaline rush into his limbs when Sejin doesn’t look like he intends to move. And then the big big brushes around them begin to stir and Namjoon’s mind is telling him that it’s almost too late and that he should run now if he wants to make it out dry and Sejin just chuckles.

“Stay inside, relax. It’s time for the playlist,” he says and picks something on the car’s display. Soft music trails through the speakers, turned all the way up because the washing street is loud, Jimin’s voice singing Promise as angelically as possible and when the first drops of water hit the car, Namjoon’s heart stops for a second. It’s so nice, this calm feeling of safety that engulfs him when he watches more and more drops of water running down the windows. The warmth that’s in the car, even with the motor off and the lullaby fading. They are practically embedded in the music. It’s just a blessed togetherness with a friend he likes spending time with, a friend who comes up with the wildest ideas to give him comfort and a good time.

And even when the water hitting the car is less than a rain shower and more like a thrumming thunderstorm, Namjoon’s heart still jumps around with giddy leaps for the simple, childish sensation of being surrounded by water but not getting wet. Sejin also seems to have a good time, looking outside the windows with a fond smile and gently tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, matching the soft beats of Blue Side.

“Let’s finish eating,” he suggests then and really, that’s the only way to make this - whatever this is - better.

The paper bags around their little boxes rustle when they unwrap the food and with a warm fuzzy feeling, Namjoon realizes that this moment is special for Sejin too. Usually, the manager would not let anyone eat in his car (a habit from his time taking care of their official business cars), so this is clearly an exception he made for Namjoon.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve done in a long while,” Namjoon says after a few bites and feels like he should maybe pick up his old habit of writing a diary again. He doesn’t want to forget this.

“Let’s take a selfie, hyung.”

They do, and even after finishing their lunch, after watching the big brushes make way for smaller brushes to foam and shake their car, and after five more songs, the car wash street is still not done.

“Hyung, what kind of washing program did you buy? Will we be out before dinnertime?”

“Only the best for you,” Sejin grins. “You’re enjoying yourself, right? If not, we’ll go through again. This playlist is longer than you might think.”

“I am enjoying myself.”

“Good. I really wanted to distract you from everything. Are you relaxed?”

“Very.”

The moment is perfect, warm and content. As if it was meant to be. Namjoon feels his anxiety and all the stress of the day wash off along with the film of dirt on the car. It flows out of his line of vision and his soul is considerably lighter. Maybe we should do this more often.

“This is one of my favorite spots in the city,” Sejin reveals and checks the digital clock on the display, “and you’ll see why soon.”

The brushes recede to the sides of the tunnel and make way for the blow driers. It doesn’t take long for the display outside to start blinking again to signal that the ride is over soon. Sejin starts the motor and when the blinking display rises up, slowly revealing the exit before them, Sejin smiles.

“Look.”

Namjoon doesn’t immediately understand what Sejin wants him to see - but then it hits. The display rises up to reveal the horizon. The car street is built upon a little hill and from here, they can look down on a lower part of Seoul, gleaming in the golden light of the falling sun. It looks like an explosion of light, framed by the walls of the cr wash tunnel. It’s glorious, breathtaking even and Namjoon just stills, afraid to ruin the view with irrelevant thoughts. This is perfect. Just perfect.

The light reflects off the rain water that’s still lingering on the skyscraper’s plateau rooftops, the endless glass walls and even the airplanes taking off in the distance like rising diamonds. The massiveness of it all, the way it surrounds everything, the way it creates this feeling of being a witness of a majestic spectacle takes Namjoon’s breath away. Golden light floods the sky. The Han River looks like a serpent on fire. And this is just a goodbye for one night, so ordinary, almost meaningless. So beautiful.

Namjoon gasps. A fleck of violet moves in the corner of his eye.

“Also,” Taehyung’s soft voice sounds like a melody after the long, thoughtful break of silence in their room. Yeontan yawns and shakes his fur, looking fluffy. “Even if hitting the ground is painful and seems like it will break you apart, you’ll see that that’s exactly what it takes to create a rainbow. Being shattered can be beautiful too - if you keep letting the light shine through you. It will all be okay. That’s the comfort I want to give.”

And then the moment is gone, Namjoon doesn’t know how he got here, only that he feels floaty one moment, almost like he’s being pushed out of his body. It’s comparable to being lifted out of your seat the moment your plane lands and stutters along the landing strip. The next moment, he’s being shoved back in, feeling very weighty for second, like he somehow doesn’t really fit in his body. All of that happens at the same time with Sejin driving forward to exit the car wash, a white flash blinding Namjoon so strongly that he has to close his eyes lest they lose sight forever, and him wondering whether this is the famous light at the end of the tunnel that everyone’s talking about. Whether this is the end. He opens his eyes when the gleaming brightness recedes behind his eyelids, or rather, when he can’t see the the tiny veins in his eyelids anymore.

The sight before him takes his breath away. Where the car’s coachwork, the car wash brushes and sponges surrounded him before, thick trees now form an uneven circle around him and create a clearing. Namjoon sits in the middle of it, on the grass, hands in his lap, jacket softly flapping in the mild breeze. He can’t help but wonder how he got here, whether this is a dream, whether he just fell asleep after leaving the restaurant. When he reaches out to touch the grass, to just see if it’s real, he gasps. It’s very real and incredibly soft, softer than the grass in the little garden on top of BigHit’s office building. Little flowers sway under the sparkly rays of sun that manage to make their way through the treetops and birds hop around the branches of the trees while chirping animately. A butterfly lands on his knee and Namjoon is careful to stay still. After a few moments of taking rest, it flies off and Namjoon adores the tiny creature that had been so bold to land on him. Being so used to the city’s sharp edges and spaces devoid of color, being in nature always feels a little unreal, like something out of a dream. Not being able to recall how he got here just adds to the strange feeling.

Desperate to push the worrying second cycle of thoughts of where am I, what happened and what the heck away and keep his calm, Namjoon closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, tells himself not to worry, and deliberately tastes the forest air as it streams through his nose and across his tongue. He wills his heartbeat down, eager to drown in the serenity around him, even if there might be bigger issues at hand. It takes a few minutes to lose the fear, the confusion and the anxiety, but when he does, his body becomes light, almost like he’s floating.

Namjoon feels… embedded. Embedded in nature to a ridiculous degree, to an extent that he doesn’t normally experience in a forest, not even when he’s fully Namjooning, as the other members call it. It’s an amalgamated feeling, every inch of the woods around him part of the sensation. Everything pulses, everything vibrates, from the strands of grass brushing against his ankles to the bugs crawling over myriads of swaying leaves. And Namjoon finds himself in the center of it - not as the center, just interwoven into the net of reality, just a tiny, belatedly added piece in this complex throng of life pulses that flare up as soon as he inhales and settle when he exhales. He could lose himself in the pleasant buzzing that could be all around him just as well as it could be him, his cells, his body thrumming with life. He just knows he could lose himself in this too easily and too fast, there’s this little whirl of energy nudging him deep inside his mind, asking him silently whether he would like to stay here a little while longer, longer inside the whirlwind, if he would like to go deeper, deeper, deeper. And Namjoon isn’t afraid even if it seems a daunting invitation. He’s too overwhelmed to react, busy listening to the trees sway, the birds flap their wings, the clouds pass by. The calmness mixes with a sense of belonging, a belonging he still doesn’t feel all the way in their new apartment. This is a perfect place, he thinks.

He feels embedded, knows that this is a rare moment and that it’s a privilege to be here and experience this miracle melody of life. There’s only one other moment that feels like this - when the stage lift pushes him above the stage, the beat driving his blood forward and thousands of fans melting into him, when their screams align with his rap. Embedded. Namjoon wonders if he’s dreaming, if this rush he feels is just a product of his memories ganging up on him in his sleep.

Something rustles behind him and Namjoon turns around slowly. He finds that the shopping bags from the pet store have followed him into the woods. Only the shopping bags that had been his. What the heck? If I’m here and the shopping bags are too, shouldn’t Sejin be here as well? Is this some kind of… time travel or teleportation stuff? What is going on? His breath hitches as a new thought hits him. What if - what if someone took me here?

He watches one of the bags topple. There’s no wind. Suddenly, a little brown paw - hand? - appears behind the brown paper and Namjoon has to hold back a coo. A little animal with slightly wet fur rolls out of the paper bag, sniffing it. It looks like an otter. The only other time Namjoon has seen real otters was when he’d visited the zoo in Seoul with the members and back then, the otters had been in a water enclosure. This otter is not overly fluffy but the black twitching nose makes up for it in cuteness; Namjoon raises his hands to his mouth to not let out any sounds. And fails. Immediately, the otter looks up, big brown eyes staring at the strange invader in the clearing. Apparently, Namjoon doesn’t categorize as a threat, because the otter goes back to exploring the bag right away, squeaking and sniffling around. There’s more rustling and from his angle, Namjoon can only see a little sleek tail peeking out from the paper bag’s opening. Then, the otter seems to have found something of interest because it backs out, dragging the little twisted rope Namjoon had bought for Jimin.

Jimin. A tiny ripple of shock rocks through Namjoon. His eyes widen. He had almost forgotten. He might have almost sat here for the rest of the day, getting lost in the beauty of the woods and forgetting about his day - about all the drama - and what he had wanted to do. Is this an enchanted forest? It’s so… peaceful. He looks around, scans the area. Trees everywhere, the ground in between covered in lush grass, flowers and fallen leaves. In the distance, something glitters every now and then, and Namjoon realizes that the constant soft swishing sound in the air must come from a little pond or river. Somehow, now that he thinks about it, that same freshness carries in the air and it’s almost like Namjoon can feel the fresh water swirl in his lungs in a peaceful, refreshing way. It’s all he could dream of when he imagines a peaceful retreat. To be honest, he would love to come here with the members.

Suddenly, the otter startles with a squeak and flees when Namjoon stands up and wipes down his slightly wet jeans. When his eyes follow the cute animal, he stiffens. There’s a wolf standing just a couple of meters away. It’s big and grey, definitely a grown wolf. It takes one quick look to realize just how huge it is. It reaches up to Namjoon’s chest if he were to stand up - and it’s watching him intently. The gaze is so strong that Namjoon feels a lot like he’s been caught. Caught in the wolf’s territory. He doesn’t dare to move even as his heart pounds and his head tells him to run.

Namjoon knows, logically, that a wolf is a big predator with a tendency to be territorial and the ability to kill an adult without much effort. He knows that he should logically be afraid of it, maybe afraid enough to pee his pants, but it’s so damn hard to be afraid here in this warm-colored, sun kissed spot of forest that, in its essence, is so pure, so good. It reminds him of good things, of relaxation. Of home. Maybe it’s also because of the way the forest just buzzes on inside his mind as if the wolf hadn’t appeared, as if there was no reason to worry, no reason to stop the bubbly melody because the wolf simply wasn’t dangerous. Maybe it’s because of the knowledge that the forest has some kind of conscience and possibly an ability to judge between good and evil, or maybe just that the way the forest breathed and pulsed around him reminded Namjoon of all the books he’d read in his childhood. Books that had taught him about principles, about the order of things even if those books consisted of fictional characters and places. It somehow instilled trust in Namjoon, a trust that he thinks he had already extended towards the forest. The forest had accepted it from him. And now, the forest was offering it in return. He looks up to find that the wolf us mustering him still, probably not used to visitors on its terrain but it’s not a malevolent look. There’s no growling, no claws, no fangs or even the kind of bristling he’s usually get to see each time Monie met another dog she didn’t like, so Namjoon concludes that the wolf is just curious.

“Hi,” he says lamely, “I hope I’m not intruding. I don’t know where I am but I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Namjoon doesn’t know why he’s talking to an animal but he knows that animals do assess people and pick up on their mood and intentions based on their voices, so he just speaks. It feels natural, the forest’s buzzing picks up and little sparks appear in the melody, almost as if it was amused by their interaction.

He almost doesn’t flinch when a black wet nose prods his thighs, his shins and his hands. He doesn’t flinch when the wolf locks eyes with him and feelings of both being utterly vulnerable and fully accepted shoot through him like electric shocks. He feels - like he’s meeting one of his best friends. A quiet but wise friend, maybe a little like Yoongi.

Without a sound, the wolf turns and starts walking. A breathless Namjoon stands in his spot as if the ground under his two feel was holy. He stays until the wolf throws a look over its shoulder. Does it want me to follow?

Walking with a wolf, Namjoon comes to find out, is a very different feeling than walking with your own dog. Definitely. The wolf doesn’t stop a hundred times to sniff at every flower, every stone and every shrub to see if someone else has peed on it. The wolf also doesn’t feel the need to pee on all these things himself or pull on a leash to find more things that have been peed on. No, the wolf walks through the forest like it’s his kingdom revolving around him. Like he owns every centimeter of the land. Quietly. With pride and honor. The wolf oozes self-expression on a higher level, shows off its independent thinking and self-determined capabilities. Namjoon likes it. They stop at a pond. At first glance, it looks like any other pond or lake Namjoon has seen before. There’s clear, calm water surrounded by a shore packed with reeds and all kinds of water plants. He spots frogs on the wet earth and even a few fish in the water. The surface shows him his face, plain and normal, like any other mirror in the world would show. Perhaps its the soft water noises or just the visual of water that calls up feelings of thirst - Namjoon wants to lean down and scoop up some water in his hands but when the wolf next to him doesn’t make any move towards the water, almost as if he’s wary of it, Namjoon becomes suspicious.

“Is it drinkable?”

The wolf’s eyes aren’t focused on the water and instead scan the area. Maybe this isn’t a resting place. Maybe he’s patrolling the territory? Is this the outer edge maybe? Even if they just remain standing for a few minutes, a this deep sense of fateful belonging is in the air, almost like honey dripping down tree bark. The air is sweet and thick and Namjoon’s hand flies to his chest. Breathing becomes more difficult with time and he throws a worried glance at the wolf who remains stoic. Are we… supposed to die here? What is this? It almost feels like a relief of tension when the wolf suddenly shakes its fur. But not only that, it walks towards Namjoon and only then can he see the eyes of the wolf - dark, black has replaced the kind amber glow from before. What is happening? The wolf doesn’t seem any more threatening than before, just nudges Namjoon’s arm until he holds it up. What does it want?

A swoosh of air, then a dark body tunes out the light of the sun. Namjoon yelps when claws tear through his shirt and into the bare skin of his lower arm that suddenly has to carry a heavy weight. When he has gathered enough courage to open his eyes, he comes face to face with a raven. It’s black and sleek, gaze so piercing it almost hurts physically. It stares at Namjoon without blinking. What is it with these animals here? In a strange way, their eye contact is comfortable like a conversation between friends, with a certain familiarity, but the intensity of it just shatters that comfort completely. He’s captivated by the raven’s eyes. In the depths of his mind, he understands that his soul lays bare, that he’s practically naked before this creature. Every dream, every doubt, every fear, they all turn and twist inside of him, coming alive under the scrutiny of the attentive gaze. When he feels his body tense and shiver, physically unable to withstand the tension, Namjoon looks away.

His eyes fall on the pond, now mysteriously dark, reflecting the faraway blinking of stars. Is it night already? How long have I been here? The starlight shimmers like diamonds on the water whenever it moves. The sway of light almost seems melodic, almost audible. When he sees his image in the calm surface, it's... different than before. He sees himself and definitely recognizes himself but somehow, it's not what he normally looks like in a mirror. Namjoon thinks that it might just be the ethereal glow the moon and the stars cast on the pond but then, he sees something else in his eyes, a different kind of glow. Something that he's never seen before. If someone asked him to put this into a song, he has no idea what the lyrics could be. It's almost otherworldly. A few steps away, the wolf sits, watching the pond’s hypnotic view.

The raven walks a few steps closer towards Namjoon, gaze burning into the side of his head.

“What do you want, raven?”

Namjoon feels his lips move on their own.

“Reality,” the raven croaks. “Fragile. Guard it.”

It flies off with a whoosh and Namjoon follows the bird until it has passed the top of the trees. Maybe I would know where I was if I could fly. I could go home.

Before he has time to think about the raven, leaves rustle behind him. When Namjoon’s head turns toward the sound, he expects to see some other animal, or maybe that the otter has followed them. What he gets instead is a colorful burst of color on a tiny body. He blinks.

“Oh, Jiminie! Is that you?”

The cub just taps forward, head bobbing with every step as if it had become too heavy after wandering for so long. When it finally reaches his feet, it plops down into the grass with an exhausted chuffing sound. Namjoon can see its flank moving up and down with the cub’s breaths.

“How did you get here, baby?”

Did he really walk here all the way from the company building by himself? Perhaps the question would be easier to answer if he knew where exactly here is. He looks around, has never felt so disappointed by the sight of trees everywhere, then sits down in the grass.

“Did hyung take you here? Is hyung around, Jiminie? Did you get lost looking for me?”

The leopard cub’s fur is warm and damp under his fingers and he can’t help but scoop the little one up. He still doesn’t answer, doesn’t show signs of understanding and Namjoon figures that’s just the way it is. Jimin immediately snuggles deeper into the embrace, seeking the comfort and shelter and Namjoon holds his fingers out when the leopard’s little black nose starts snuffling around. Jimin doesn’t settle for his fingers and noses along Namjoon’s shirt until the human recalls the image of the baby cat snuggling into Yoongi’s neck. Is he looking for bare skin? With curiosity, Namjoon opens the upper button and exposes a collarbone. The leopard’s tail wiggles with excitement as the cub finds familiar scents on Namjoon’s skin. He squirms, blue eyes opening to sparkle as they find Namjoon’s face. He yips and yaps and makes little high-pitched noises that have Namjoon chuckling.

“Hey there,” he laughs, “hi baby. Hi. Yeah, hi. It’s me, yeah.”

When the cat calms down, lulled into safety by the warmth and scent and the familiar voice, Namjoon smiles. “Should we go looking for hyung?”

He holds his breath when the wolf steps closer, just reaching down to sniff the cub throroughly. The big head is almost leaning against Namjoon’s chest and he can smell the typical scent of dog and woods on the big animal. Jimin squeaks when the big nose rubs over his fur instead of fingers and his tail shakes but he’s brave, enduring the bigger animal’s curiosity. Namjoon is aware that this whole thing is absolutely ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense at all that he teleported into the woods slash got abandoned with amnesia, that he follows a wolf and that Jimin just appears out of nowhere. He feels like he’s missing more than one piece of information.

I only remember sitting in the car with hyung and the next moment… I was here in the woods. Or did I wake up? Did I fall asleep? Is this a dream? Was I unconscious and maybe… Sejin-hyung took me here? Was maybe the car wash a dream and this is where he wanted to go? But if Jimin is here - doesn’t that mean that someone came looking for me? Like, I was missing and they decided to search for me and Suga-hyung and Jimin came close and they just lost Jimin but he ended up finding me? He freezes. What if this is a magic forest and I lost track of time and weeks have passed? What if all the members are back and looking for me too? It’s all confusing and every speculation Namjoon comes up with feels incomplete and unsatisfying. Whatever, he tells himself, we’ll find Suga-hyung and he can explain everything that’s going on.

The wolf seems to be satisfied with smelling Jimin, so it just walks off as if there’s nothing more to stay here for, warm amber eyes and serene personality. They walk for what feels like an hour, thinking hard, dodging trees, passing caves (some are decorated with lanterns, some are not), another pond. Jimin falls asleep quickly in Namjoon’s arms. At this point, Namjoon has decided that he’s either a) hallucinating, b) on drugs and hallucinating, c) having the weirdest dream of his life or d) trapped in a children’s fairy tale for some disturbing reason. He’s decided that all the things that have happened don’t really makes sense and that even the wolf seems too… much like a book character to be real. He notices a few scars on the wolf’s flank and on his legs and figures that the wolf must have fought with some other animal to get them but they don’t look vicious. Somehow, they look like they are meant to be there, like the wolf is aware of them and carrying them with a certain pride. This wolf is the kind of animal that would be given a series of touching children’s movies, leading a lost human through the woods on a powerful journey to - just to where? That’s the thing Namjoon has been trying to wrap his head around for the last half an hour. It doesn’t come to him.

A growl leaves the wolf’s throat when Namjoon walks into it and makes him retract his earlier thoughts about the wolf. Makes him realize that this is still a wild animal despite the calm appearance and that the wild animal has stopped walking and also warned him to not run into it again. To keep his distance. To respect its boundaries. When Namjoon looks away from the sleek grey body against the knee-high ferns and wild flowers growing everywhere, he automatically freezes. A stunning light-brown stag is grazing in front of them, all alone and almost glowing in the sunlight slipping through the treetops. It owns a majestic pair of antlers - majestic in both size and form, covered by the fine sort of fur that make them look soft like velvet. When it looks up, Namjoon stumbles a step back, tiny in front of the huge animal. Even breathing - breathing feels like a mercy in front of this animal, like he’s only able to breathe because he’s been allowed to. Namjoon thinks he prefers the wolf as a walking companion - until the deer’s deep brown eyes focus on him and Namjoon’s world begins to spin.

Like magic, pieces of memories start to flit through his mind, recollections of old days and new days, of forgotten moments and forlorn ideas. A youthful looking Jin appears in front of his inner eye, dressed in crappy t-shirts that they would all laugh about fondly now. Memory-Jin shoos Namjoon out of their crappy little makeshift kitchen after letting him wash cabbage and resumes cooking for the members. A hard-faced Yoongi who is stuck with writer’s block for a whole week, a depressed Yoongi in front of a tauntingly empty fridge. Hoseok, holding a pair of smelly sneakers (his sole pair at the time) to his chest as he packs his bags quickly before they leave for some tv program shooting. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, all crying quietly under one shared blankets on Chuseok, Christmas and New Year’s because it’s the third year in a row that they can’t visit their families to spend the holidays with them. The way every hyung’s heart breaks at the sound that their thin apartment walls can’t block. A hundred memories flash by, too fast to really stick but not fast enough to not make emotion swell like a tsunami wave. He’s on his knees, he notices though wet eyes, Jimin no longer in his arms. Namjoon just wishes the stag would stop looking at him. In this beautiful place, it doesn’t seem fitting to think about all these memories again - all the bad, painful memories buried underneath the glory of the payoff, of the success, the luxuries.

But the stag doesn’t. Instead, it comes closer and closer until its warm breath falls on Namjoon’s chest and collarbones and it feels like the overflow of memories will burst Namjoon’s heart. The big deer musters him like it can feel all of this too, like these are all pieces of a shared photo album, like the stag cherishes them deeply. The warm nudge of its snout against his cheek feels like a whole embrace and Namjoon shudders. In a weird, cathartic way, he wishes he could just burst.

Suddenly, a shock goes through the stag. It jumps away in fright, letting Namjoon fall to the ground.

“What’s going on?”

To his right, he sees the wolf, poised and full of tension, looking somewhere between the trees and nudging Jimin under its belly. Namjoon can’t see anything. Jimin’s ears point to the same direction as the wolf’s ears. What did they hear?

“Dokkaebi,” the raven croaks from one of the trees. It must have come back when I saw my memories. It croons, “don’t cry, moonchild, don’t cry. It’s fate, don’t cry.”

Namjoon can’t wrap his head around the ominous words. He knows what a Dokkaebi is, obviously, but the rests sounds like it’s some fantasy novel- prophecy type shit. He really hopes that nothing bad will happen. Dokkaebis are good, aren’t they?

The wolf and the stag apparently believe that something bad will happen because the wolf looks even more tense than before, fangs peeking out and eyes wary. The stag walks around to keep an eye on all of their surroundings, hooves scratching up the ground every now and then. Neither makes Namjoon’s racing heart calm down. What’s happening? Should we hide?

“Listen, Namjoon-ah,” the wolf interrupts his self-talk, “I’m sorry to say this but we can’t really do much against a Dokkaebi. You need to remembers this: This is your Essence, your bokjil. Nothing can happen here if you don’t let it. Do you understand?”

He pauses, eyes dark. Namjoon’s head is full of confusion. What the hell is my Essence? Why does it feel like we’re seconds away from going into battle?

“You-you can talk as well?”

“Do you understand?”

“No,” he presses out between tight lips, feeling immensely frustrated by now. In a way, he feels in awe of the wolf’s wise eyes and he doesn’t want to fling all his sorrows on the elegant creature but it just bubbles out of him. “No, I don’t understand anything! From the beginning till now I have not understood one damn thing this whole day. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know how to find my hyungs, I don’t know why I can understand you-“

The wolf growls. Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“This is not the time for whining, pup. Clear your head. Remember, we are here and we will help you as much as we can but there’s a damn Dokkaebi on his way to see you and that’s not good news. Dokkaebis are powerful tricksters. Don’t believe everything you see. I don’t know what he’s here for but he’ll try to get into your head. Don’t agree to anything he propos-“

“How rude, wolf. Don’t judge a whole species for a few individuals’ actions,” a new voice speaks and Namjoon doesn’t want to look but he has to. His eyes widen. Violet durumagi. That’s the Dokkaebi!?

“You! You’re the stalker from before!”

The guy frowns and lets out an indignant huff. He notices the wolf softly biting Jimin’s neck and carrying the cub a little further away, obviously not wanting him to be anywhere near the stranger.

“Stalker!? I’m not a stalker. Do you really think I’d be chasing you all over Seoul for my own entertainment? I’m not crazy. I get paid for this, thank you very much.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to frown because that… is not less concerning in any way.

“Paid? Are you a paparazzi then?”

“Are you kidding? I was sent by the MMA committee.”

The MMA? What do the Melon Music Awards want now? Is this just a misunderstanding?

“Then why are you coming to me? Just call our CEO. He always helps if there is something wrong about the logistics or the shows.”

The man furrows his eyebrows.

“Are you an idiot? What shows are you talking about?”

Okay, rude, Namjoon thinks. Every word this guy says is just plain rude and he has to remind himself to remain calm and collected, to not show any insecurity. It certainly doesn’t make sense for anyone from the MMA’s to come to the artists themselves to ask them about anything - that’s solely the management team’s task. So Namjoon remains wary of this guy. After all, the animals had also fled from the clearing and animals’ instincts are seldom wrong.

“I’m talking about our next show in December? I mean, it’s still a really long time until then, but if you’re already planning, I can just call PDnim and we can figure out-“

“We already talked to your PDnim and scheduled a meeting. That was this morning.”

“Okay, hold on. What does MMA stand for?”

“Magistrate of Magical Affairs, of course. I’m your case worker and I need to ask you a few questions about Park Jimin and his environment that I hope you will answer truthfully. Of course, our AMI already collected quite an amount of data but like any other UI, she’s not perfect.”

That hope sounds more like a threat. The wolf growls.

”Let’s sit down, Namjoon-ssi.”

A dark mahogany table materializes out of nowhere, joined by two chairs, one on either side of it. Namjoon sits down, not ready to have a conversation about all this stuff again. He just wants to go home. I hope they are not freaking out about me. Jimin’s legs and his tail twitch as he sits, looking to Namjoon from between the wolf and the stag. He already wonders how he’s going to explain everything that happened to Jimin when he finally shifts back.

“I suppose that’s Park Jimin.”

“Yes.”

Papers appear on the table. They look like official forms. Upside down, Namjoon can’t read much of it. Before the Dokkaebi can start asking stuff, a thought shoots through Namjoon’s mind.

“Alright, first question. Who is Park Jimin living with right now?”

“With me and five other guys.”

“Does he have close contact to his parents? Does he see them often? Do they come over?”

“No, that’s not possible. They talk to each other on the phone, though.”

The Dokkaebi writes something down. He remembers his conversation with PDnim and hopes that it’s not a bad thing that Jimin doesn’t get to see his parents much even though he has a feeling that it is.

“Since when has Park Jimin been living with you?”

“We moved together in 2012.”

“I see. Are there children in your household?”

Namjoon almost says Yes but then realizes that officially, Jungkook is not a child anymore. Neither is Seokjin. So he says, “No. We’re all adults. Responsible adults.”

The other man raises a brow but ticks a box on the paper.

Namjoon almost chokes.

“Have any of you ever had a cat?”

“Not that I know of. One of the members grew up on a farm, so I suppose there were cats around. Does that count?”

“If you would guess in percent, how much time of the day do you spend at home?”

Namjoon sinks a bit deeper in his chair. Be honest, he tells himself. Honestly always wins in the long run.

“10? 10 percent of the day, maybe 15 if we’re lucky?”

“That’s a very low percentage.”

“Our schedule is very busy currently.”

“Will that change in the foreseeable future?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You do realize that even though cats can be left at home, they do need a lot of stimulation and effort, yes? Especially when they are so young.”

“I want to take him along to work.”

“That is… ambitious. Is your workplace a cat-friendly environment?”

Not… really. The studio maybe. An arena full of people? Jimin would stay backstage. Tannie had managed. Namjoon nods confidently.

“We could make it one.”

That sounds more like a question than a statement and Namjoon hopes that it won’t come across as insecurity. Because he knows that PDnim would do anything to enable Jimin to live his life normally with the others wherever he goes - despite his handicap.

“That’s not enough. According to the first and the fourth book of the MMA’s additions to the Civil Code, the Magistrate is legally required to assign a qualified caregiver with every Type-3 shapeshifter or hybrid if their parents or further relatives are either absent or physically, mentally or otherwise unable to raise the child in all aspects. This is the law. You know, most people are happy to hear that someone else helps them with raising a shifter.”

“Most people don’t value what they have until it’s too late.”

“Do you even know what raising a shifter means? What happens when a shifter like your friend grows up, when his instincts tell him to hunt and kill? What do you do then?”

“I will do whatever I can.”

“And that’s what they all think. Until their shifter child kills the pet. By accident. Until their child attacks the neighbor, a sibling, the parents themselves. That’s what the training is for. They need to be taught how to live from the youngest age possible.”

“And you think I can’t do that?”

“I’m just offering you the best options available.”

“But you don’t get to say what’s best for a person you don’t even know. Yes, maybe I don’t have much experience with shifters, but-“

“Exactly, you don’t. The magistrate has done this since mid-Joseon times so I think we do know pretty well what’s best for your shifter friend.”

“That’s bullshit. That logic only applies if you think that this is a task on your schedule. But this is about a person. Park Jimin is a person. And you don’t even get one thing to say about what’s best for him. Firstly, you have never even met him before, let alone asked him about what he thinks about this.”

“And you have? How, if he’s been like this for days now.”

“I have not but I will as soon as he shifts back. Until then, I will decide in his place, but I will never undermine his autonomy as a human person like you just did. Secondly, if you boast about the Magistrate taking care so well of every shifter and hybrid in the country, how come the Magistrate didn’t have Jimin or even his parents in the registry until now? Shouldn’t you have known about him?”

“Well, we didn’t- I mean, before AMI alerted us, there were no signs-“

“I don’t trust you. Jimin shifted and suddenly, you barge into our lives, saying Jimin should come with you every time he shifts. Maybe there is a reason Jimin wasn’t in your registry. Maybe his parents didn’t trust you either. Either way, I can’t consent to your proposition.”

“It’s not a proposition.”

“Without my consent, it’s nothing at all.”

“Tell me, Namjoon-ssi, have you met other shifters or even hybrids so far?”

Namjoon thinks that he must have, if so many people of the community hide their real identities. He must have walked past so many shifters and hybrids on the sidewalk, brushed past their shoulders, bumped into them in an elevator, in a crowd, anywhere. But he doesn’t remember just because he didn’t know back then. There’s just one hybrid he remembers. Jackson.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Did they seem animalistic?”

Just as always, Jackson had been friendly and sociable, with open laughter and a warm hug. Had he not revealed his dog ears and his silver tail, Namjoon would have probably never found out about his hidden identity despite being his best friend. From the corner of his eyes, he sees something moving.

“No. He seemed - just like I knew him. Human.”

“He did, didn’t he? He must have gone through proper training by either his parents or a mentor. Shifters and hybrids can’t afford to be found out and ostracized, so they train to overcome their instincts. Their instincts are overwhelming when they are young and they need to learn how to act like humans.”

That’s messed up, Namjoon thinks, but figures that it’s necessary to survive without trouble in the cruel human world. He sees Jimin waddling over to him.

“Do you understand what might happen to Jimin if he doesn’t receive training? How it could harm not just the people around him but him, too?”

It’s a fair point, Namjoon has to admit. He can’t imagine how Jimin would feel and think of himself if he killed someone or something else. If he even hurt someone just because he couldn’t control himself. Suddenly, Namjoon remembers his first months (scratch that, make it years) in dancing, how his limbs weren’t graceful, his movements weren’t controlled. Of course, seeing it on Hobi or Jimin was clear and the idea of replicating it exactly was simple, but whenever he tired, he couldn’t do it even if he could envision it perfectly. Until a certain point, his limbs were flapping around and it was impossible to make them cooperate. Is that what it would be like for Jimin? Namjoon knows how much Jimin hates losing control. This would be his worst nightmare, probably.

The Dokkaebi seems to take his silence for doubt or hesitance, apparently, because before Jimin can reach Namjoon’s chair, the man reaches for the cub and holds it up by the neck. Without any warning, he shoves two fingers into the cub’s mouth. Taken by surprise, Jimin squirms and tries to wiggle out of the firm grasp but the man just continues to pry his little jaws open.

“See these fangs? They’re made for meat, specifically for tearing into it.”

Jimin whines so loudly that Namjoon has to really contain himself. He can’t bear to see his brother being treated like that. His knuckles are white with the force of his fists. The Dokkaebi just goes on.

“It’s is still young but once he’s grown these jaws will be strong enough to drag a fully grown antelope up a tree.”

“Let go,” Namjoon says, “he doesn’t like it.”

The Dokkaebi shrugs, the golden emblems of his durumagi gleaming in the sun.

“It doesn’t like me, I don’t like it. It’s mutual loathing. What I care about is what it likes. Did you know that feral predators don’t discriminate? Any living creature becomes meat, even humans.”

I don’t like you either, Namjoon thinks grimly. Jimin really struggles, tiny paws pushing against the hands holding him, head twisting this direction and the other. He can’t get away and hisses. Namjoon leans over the table.

“Let him go. He’s still a person and he deserves respect.”

The Dokkaebi’s eyes sparkle darkly as if he had just waited for Namjoon to say that. He lets go of the kitten’s jaw but keeps holding it firmly, hand moving to Jimin’s neck to paralyze him. His voice is deep and daunting.

“And will he still deserve respect when he’s grown and turned into a wild beast just because you’re too sentimental to send him away to train?”

Filled with anger, Namjoon glares at the man in Hanbok. But his eyes are drawn somewhere else. The mahogany table disappears, the chairs disappear, Namjoon plops on his butt, while the Dokkaebi just takes a few steps back. Something shimmers in the air beside the Dokkaebi, almost like a fire’s flying sparks being drawn into one shape. Namjoon gasps when it takes form - a fully grown leopard materializes right in front of him. Its massive body looks huge in comparison to Jimin’s kitten body, it would tower over him were the little one on the ground. Even though the leopard only reaches the Dokkaebi’s bellybutton at most, its presence is overwhelming. As if the whole forest vibrates in simultaneous fear and awe of this one creature, as if it feels the low buzzing of danger joining the life-filled and cheerful pulsing of the woods. Namjoon’s back thumps against rough bark and he realizes he’s been walking backwards. The moment the leopard takes its first breath, the forest’s melody collapses. Namjoon almost chokes at the sudden disarray, the jumbled notes clashing into each other like cars on the wrong side of the street. They seem jagged and lost like they can’t remember their tempo, their placement or even their key and instead, they jump around and create chaos. It reminds Namjoon of a drowning person who is making the most dreadful noises humanly possible before realizing there is no saving because the screams for help are swallowed by the waves all around. It’s ugly and raw and if Namjoon would be sent a melody like this for a song, he wouldn’t even try to fix it.

His stomach drops and his blood freezes, suddenly unable to maintain a steady flow as his heart begins to pound heavily, The blood rush in his ears does nothing to drown out the low tones of danger building up with every step the leopard takes forward. While he frantically weighs the probability of success of running and simultaneously takes careful steps backwards, the notes how much darker the forest looks now. At first, he doesn’t think it could be due to the new predator whose own threatening melody intimidates the forest into a frantic arrhythmia - the sunlight still flickers through the treetops - but then the leopard steps into the center of the clearing. There’s a dark aura around the cat - an inverted glow, as if it was drawing all the light from the atmosphere and keeping it locked away in itself.

Namjoon breathes heavily already, without having run an inch. The adult leopard stands still, steadily breathing, chest moving, ears twitching to capture every sound, tail resting low. He looks like a sharp dog waiting for a command. Namjoon really wishes that none would be given, that they could just keep their distance and be fine. Don’t move, he thinks. And then, at one twitch of the Dokkaebi’s eyebrows, the leopard takes another step.

“Will you still think that a beast like this should be given respect? When it discovers that it’s born to be a hunter? A killer?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen when his eyes meet the leopard’s, when the amber lights in them go dark like the darkness swallowing up a long forgotten candle’s last flame.

“When it realizes that fresh meat is better than whatever crap they mix together in those pet stores?”

The grass is silent under the leopard’s paws. Its muscles move elegantly under the beautiful rosetted fur of the vicious cat. The perfect killing machine, a documentary narrator had explained Stealthy, skillful and merciless. Namjoon’s heart pounds frantically. He thinks of running. His mind short-circuits. He runs.

Almost immediately, a body knocks into him, brutally pressing him into the ground. Everything goes dark with the collision. Namjoon groans, has difficulty estimating the degree of his injury. All he feels is pain. When he opens his eyes again, the leopard bares his fangs right in front of his face. He’s trapped. Trapped underneath the perfect killing machine. All the dead prey he’s seen in the documentaries flashes by his eyes. He whimpers, can’t believe he’ll just become another piece of prey. Leopards mostly go for the throat. They paralyze their prey with a forceful bite, then go for the kill. Namjoon’s hands go for his throat in a feeble attempt to shield it. He’s not sure if it’s smart or even any protection at all.

“When they discover that they crave the taste of blood?”

Blood. Namjoon weakly realizes the there’s blood dripping from the leopard’s jaw and snout. He chokes, feels his body spasm against his will. When the leopard leans in, face coming closer and closer, Namjoon’s hands shoot out to hold him away, to press the cat’s face away. Fear drives a stake into his heart when dark red drops roll down his wrists, his arms. His entire hands are covered in blood, so much blood that it can’t possibly come from the cat’s fur. Am I bleeding? Tentatively, Namjoon feels around his throat again. It’s wet, everything is wet. Blood in massive amounts. He shudders, fighting the way his lungs constrict and burn. A flash-like memory pushes its way into Namjoon’s inner eye like a cold slithering tendril before he can defend himself from the intrusion. Images flash. From a third perspective, he watches himself on the ground and the leopard caging him in. He watches the leopard’s furious lunge and the way its jaw closes around his throat, the way blood blubbers forth as if he were a fresh spring coming to life. The leopard bites until the flesh is bloody and raw, an open wound. The precursor to a powerful death. The leopard growls and Namjoon is ripped out of the vision which he understands to be the Dokkaebi’s point of view.

“Do you still think a beast like that deserves respect when the first victim dies? When they bleed out in your arms?”

Namjoon can’t stop choking violently, can’t breathe, can’t focus. The leopard still or perhaps again has its massive fangs in his flesh like a vice grip, unrelenting and unbeatable and Namjoon’s vision blurs a little. With the blood loss comes freezing coldness. Panic sets in slowly but sinks deeper with every moment. Am I really dying? Am I dying? Again, the leopard rams its fangs into Namjoon’s throat, rattling his entire body. When his head lolls to the side, grey fur moves in front of his eyes. He hears a voice. Dokkaebis are powerful tricksters. Don’t believe everything you see. This is your Essence, your bokjil. Nothing can happen here if you don’t let it. Do you understand?

Is this… an illusion? As Namjoon tries to push the leopard off, his hands drive deep into the fur. The cat pulls off, growling like hell. There’s a long moment the leopard and the boy stare into each other’s eyes. Namjoon feels his own heartbeat pulse through his open flesh in hot, painful surges. Thump, thump, thump. Then - realization. He stares at his fingers, then at the wild cat. His hands are buried deep into the fur, so deep he can feel the outline of bone against his skin. The cat’s chest is pressed against his as it presses him into the ground. And yet. No heartbeat. The leopard has no heartbeat. It’s an illusion. The knowledge explodes like a bomb inside Namjoon’s mind, inside his body.

“You’re not real,” he gasps, almost laughing in relief. As if he’s opened the door to a dark room, clarity and light flood everything. The blur in his vision disappears, all the pain just vanishes in one go, so quickly that Namjoon almost feels floaty. The pressure on his throat disappears, Namjoon can think straight. Even the leopard disappears like it was never there. He feels his throat. No blood, just smooth skin. The sensation is surreal after being caught in the the cruel illusion. Namjoon sits up. He’s exhausted even if he’s fine. I want to go home, he thinks.

When his eyes fall on the Dokkaebi holding a whimpering Jimin down, he swallows. You can do this. This is not about you. This is about Jimin, and you’ll do anything you can to protect him. He trusts you. This Dokkaebi is just trying to intimidate me. The wolf right next to him, radiating a comforting warmth. I am not alone.

“I said, let go of Jimin.”

The cub starts running as soon as the hands leave his fur and he tucks into Namjoon immediately.

“Shhhh,” he whispers, rubbing the little one’s head, “it’s alright. I’m here, I’m okay, see? Shhhhh.”

He lets Jimin sniff around as much as he wants, the cub desperate to be comforted by a familiar scent.

“I will respect Jimin no matter what happens. I will respect his wishes and not decide over his head. Every person needs to be respected, everyone. Lack of respect and love are what turns people into psychos, not lack of training. Not even shifters.”

“I don’t think you understand. If you don’t choose for him today, I am authorized to take Park Jimin in custody until his trial ends. The mere fact that he’s lived as an unregistered shifter for so long needs to be investigated. After that, he will be sent to the Academy either way.”

“And how is that respecting his human rights?”

The Dokkaebi smiles.

“But he’s not human, is he? Human rights don’t apply to him, smartass. He’s a shifter. It’s time for you to understand what that means.”

That’s a crass way of saying it but it really hits Namjoon. That can’t be true… right?

“So… we need to find a trainer for him to be able to keep him?”

“We as the MMA offer classes at our very own Academy to guarantee professional supervision and a guided training period. Since you are VIP clients, we would only charge you half the tuition fees and make sure Jimin receives upgraded treatment there.”

“There?”

“The closest Academy campus is located outside of Seoul, in the mountains and woods of Gapyeong-gun.”

“What! Why is it so far away?”

Gapyeong-gun isn’t too far outside of Seoul but it’s difficult to get there by car. Public transport is even worse. Namjoon knows it means they wouldn’t be able to see Jimin much anymore - driving to school, being there for class and driving home in the afternoon would already take more than half of the day. He’s gonna miss early dance practice, vocal training and a lot of interviews, Namjoon thinks.

“With over 500 students of all kinds of genetic denominations, it’s slightly difficult to find a fitting environment to meet every student’s needs in Seoul, Namjoon-ssi. The Academy is in the woods to grant space, freedom and anonymity.”

“I see… but we can’t drive up there every time Jimin has class.”

“Oh, I think there might be a misunderstanding… the Academy is similar to a boarding school. He would stay there for his entire study period.”

That means - we won’t see Jimin at all? Or just a couple of days per semester? On the weekends? Assuming the Academy even allows students to receive visitors.

“No. Jimin can’t just leave for a semester. Do they have online classes?”

“Online classes are not practical, Namjoon-ssi. Young shifters require hands-on training, not theoretical teaching.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Is there no way one of those mentors would come to us to train Jimin?”

“Unfortunately, they are always short on staff so that won’t be an option. Unless you find a private tutor with a Caregiver and Mentoring Certificate, Jimin will have to attend school like anyone else.”

From some corner of his mind, Namjoon hears Bang Sihyuk’s voice. No one can know.

“That’s not an option,” Namjoon says. “On so many levels.”

“It’s the law.”

Namjoon breathes. He doesn’t know what he expected from the day when he put his feet on the carpet by his bed for the first time this morning, but it wasn’t this. The Dokkaebi’s eyes bore into Namjoon’s face, he can feel it.

“Are you perhaps… suggesting I break the law?”

The atrocity of the phrase makes Namjoon’s head snap up.

“Of course not,” he snaps, then, calmer, because he’s not a snappy person and he reminds himself of all the people he represents, “of course not.”

I will not allow scandals, Bang PD had once said. If any of you see any of the others or even a staff member do something illegal or even consider doing something illegal, we’re gonna have a long talk. I know you boys by heart. You’re kind, hardworking and talented. I will do anything in my power to support you but I will never enable people to abuse their position.

“You had me worried there, Namjoon-ssi. For a second.”

“I’m just saying that there are two things that cannot happen no matter how we turn it. Jimin can’t go to the Academy. And he can’t go without training. We need to find another solution. I trust you to find a different way.”

It’s this point that Namjoon fears. Because he has no idea about the MMA’s bureaucracy, about the rules or the law. He doesn’t want to engage in illegal activities. But he can’t not leave everything up to fate or luck either, and this is where he needs the Dokkaebi’s honest help.

“Well, there are other ways…”

“Which are?”

“Expensive ways.”

He hopes it doesn’t involve corruption but he feels like a gangster with his next words.

“Money is not an issue.”

“Money!? Are you really offering me money? That’s a weak currency.”

“Real estate?”

“Do I look like I need real estate?”

“What then? Business shares?”

“I’m not greedy.”

“Well, what is it?

“You know, some creatures thirst to feed on your emotions, your dreams, even your blood. They love the taste of a conflicted soul. But I am not that cruel. I wouldn’t even dare to suggest such crude things-“

“Get to the point. What do you want?”

“Your soul.”

The forests still before the Dokkaebi’s lips press closed. As if under a spell, even the clouds draw together and the menacing darkness in the Dokkaebi’s eyes falls over the clearing. Namjoon shivers, feeling cold, feeling tiny, feeling empty. For the first time of his life, he understands that he’s sharing a table with a predator. From this distance, running won’t make a difference, not when the forest obeys the powerful man in Hanbok; begging won’t change a thing, not when Namjoon’s chair’s armrests are chilling and rough like a cage’s bars. No, Namjoon has only his words and he knows he needs to put them in the perfect order to find the one way to get out of this situation unharmed. From the corner of his eye, he notices the deer and the wolf, helpless onlookers by the misguided force of his own lips. They look sad, fur no longer shiny in this low light, heads no longer held high in this awful suffocating silence. As if their souls had been drawn out of them with the threat of Namjoon’s loss.

“The way I see this,” Namjoon reiterates, slowly, praying to breathe life back into the forest with his warm voice. There’s still hope, he reassures himself. I have many words. Words are my playground. No reason to despair yet. “It’s a bargain, yes? We will bargain.”

“I am not a monster,” the Dokkaebi says. Namjoon can’t tell whether that’s supposed to reassure him. He takes it as an affirmation when the man waves his hand, signaling him to start.

“First of all, what do you want my soul for?“

“Is that really your biggest concern?”

“Of course. I will not agree to anything if I don’t know what will happen to my soul. Let’s be honest to each other.”

“Honest, hm?”

All books and films and stories aside, there’s not many occasions Namjoon has heard people even mention their soul or anything related to it. There’s no way of knowing what a soul means in this world of super natural creatures, the value it has, if it’s different for the different creatures. What you can do with a soul. So yes, even if he has to argue and talk his mouth off for hours, he insists on knowing every little detail he can get. He is aware, of course, that any information the Dokkaebi shares could be a lie, but Namjoon has seen liars before, knows some signs of it. Knows he won’t let others do just anything to him.

The Dokkaebi’s face pulls into a smile that so… heavy that Namjoon isn’t sure what to make of it. From the dark look in the man’s eyes, the gaze that he directs at his own hands, he dares to believe that smile is not meant for him.

“Do you know how people turn into Dokkaebis?”

Namjoon has to reign in his mind to not think about the tv show and instead rake his memories for old tales that he may have been told by his grandmother or other elderly from his neighborhood when he was young. All the Korean books he’s read in his youth. Nothing helpful pops up.

“I’m not sure… you die with a sword in your chest?”

The wooden table aches with the forceful slam of the Dokkaebi’s hand. Namjoon flinches, pants, hopes to never see anyone scowl at him again like that.

“Do I look like frickin’ Gong Yoo!? Frickin’ Koreans - has this entire nation watched that show!?”

A bead of sweat trails down Namjoon’s neck. He fiddles with the ring on his finger, shrugging.

“It was a good show. Funny, too.”

“Nothing about being a Dokkaebi is funny. It’s a curse,” the Dokkaebi growls as he tugs his durumagi sleeve back into place. “Just like this atrocity.”

Honestly, there’s not many Hanboks Namjoon has seen in real life with authentic golden emblems sewn into it - the kind that a king would wear in a drama. This durumagi must have either belonged to royalty before (but it doesn’t look very old) or been exclusively tailored for this man because there’s no way that he could have gotten this in a normal Hanbok store. It kind of reminds Namjoon of their 2017 MAMA outfits. This must have been expensive, too. Too expensive for a random foreigner with no regards for Korean culture to spend money on. Why did he get a Hanbok overcoat like this if he doesn’t even like it?

“Cruel of God to put me into this for all eternity, isn’t it? The garb I was butchered in.”

As if a hole is torn into reality, Namjoon’s strained but collected vision is directed towards the Dokkaebi’s stomach where blood starts to flow into the fine fabric with shocking vigor. Namjoon almost stumbles backwards in his seat, the chair creaking as he leans back, his mind telling him to get away, get away. Even the scent of blood is out to shock him. It stings in his nose, as if to show him how real it is. No wound is visible behind the slashed textile but Namjoon is sure that he wouldn’t be able to look at it anyway. This is already crass enough. Jimin seems to smell the blood too, raising his head and sniffling the air. Namjoon does his best to placate him with kind caresses and a slight push for him to stay down, to lie back down and sleep.

“Ugly, isn’t it?”

He should have notices the teasing tone of the Dokkaebi. Should have noticed, well, everything around the blood. Should have noticed. Because when he looks at the Dokkaebi’s face, another layer of reality has been torn away. He feels bile force its way up his throat, feels terror claw into him. In the chair across the table sits the body of a young man, shape and visage so unrecognizable it might have been a different person altogether. A cold breeze rushes through the trees around them, shaking the powerless leaves around as it likes.

The disgusting taste of bile reaches Namjoon’s mouth and he shudders, swallows, presses his eyes shut, swallows and swallows until there’s enough spit to wash everything away for a second or two. He dares to look up, look back at the Dokkaebi. His face is - not a face. It resembles a farming ground that has been plowed thoroughly - deeply, brutally, with force. The flesh of his cheeks just hangs off his face in tatters, like shredded wet tapestry that’s supposed to be removed and clings to the wall pathetically, his left cheekbone sticking out like crushed wood good for nothing but to feed a fire, and there’s blood everywhere between the swollen flesh, the torn nose, the ripped off eyebrow as if it was the only thing holding the disfigured pieces together. The only thing that’s sort of intact are the eyes - eyes that have not lost the piercing ire that’s following Namjoon’s pupils as they wander across the massacrous sight, almost like guard dogs making sure he won’t dare misstep even once. By the time Namjoon even locates the Dokkaebi’s throat between the wet, bloated flesh and the sharp pricks of white that had held the man’s jaw in place once, there are tears streaming down his cheeks. He shuts his eyes, praying that this face will not become the center of his nightmares for the rest of his life. When the Dokkaebi leans his face into his hand, which is also torn apart, flesh swelling between deep bite marks, joints hanging off the bone loosely, there’s an ugly squishing sound. Namjoon really wants to vomit. Jimin squeaks, terror in the high-pitched sound. The tiny cub thrashes in Namjoon’s hold but his hands feel numb, can’t hold the cat. It falls off the chair, squeaks some more, and runs.

“Please,” he begs, “please stop.”

“Did you know,” the Dokkaebi says, jaw crunching while he speaks, “that a supernatural’s powers never work on themselves?”

“No,” he croaks.

“Never, Namjoon-ssi. So I can hide this from you and the entire world but never from my own eyes.”

“Why did you have to show me?”

“Look at me again.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Look at me again. I will answer your questions.”

By now, mind occupied by the intensity of disgust and just overall sickness, Namjoon doesn’t even know what kinds of questions he’s asked before or if he still wants them answered. Raising his eyes back onto the horrifying sight takes more than a few seconds of encouraging and reassuring himself. He whimpers when the sticky red of the blood and the gruesome white have not vanished, but follows the Dokkaebi’s finger. Namjoon can’t help but pull up his shoulders, wishing he’d be somewhere else, wishing he could just go back to his normal life when the man in Hanbok puts his fingers into the flesh by his throat. He chokes, gags, isn’t sure who the sound is coming from, and looks at the wolf and the deer. The wolf is low on the ground, nuzzling something in between his paws that Namjoon identifies as a trembling little cat cub. Only the stag looks back, eyes deep and full of sympathy. Please get me out of here, Namjoon begs but jumps when the Dokkaebi’s loud voice demands his attention.

“LOOK AT ME!”

He does. Shivers.

“Do you see this?”

Between the two fingers that sort of… pull a more punctual wound open, something white shows up. At first, Namjoon suspects it to be bone but then, the Dokkaebi’s fingers dig deep enough to show the actual bone and it’s clear that the white piece is not a part of it.

“It’s a fang,” the Dokkaebi says, his own teeth showing. When he rips it out of his throat and throws it away, it takes only a few seconds to lodge itself in the open wound again. He looks at it in disgust. “This is the sword in my chest.”

“Great,” Namjoon groans, “I’ve seen it. Now make it go away.”

“Can you imagine the one thing that’s worse than all of this?”

“What is it?”

Namjoon feels sick. Sick to his stomach, sick to his bones. Sick like even vomiting won’t bring relief. Sick like he hasn’t felt sick since the beginning of his life. Sick like he won’t recover till the end of his life if this doesn’t end soon.

“The fact that all I remember from my life as a human is my death - the way a pack of wolves tore into me, clawed me apart until I became this. That I am forced to watch myself die every single night. Becoming a Dokkaebi is a punishment.”

The Dokkaebi pauses, must have found mercy in some hidden, unharmed corner of his body, and lets some sort of magic cover his face until he looks like a normal human being again. For some reason, it doesn’t loosen the icy grip the vision of his face has on Namjoon’s heart. He knows what he sees but his heart doesn’t follow up on it, not when it knows what’s underneath the mask. When the blood stains disappear from the Hanbok, Namjoon and the whole forest take a deep breath, like the last second of winter’s chokehold has passed and everything dares to hope for new life.

“I can’t heal or even become free until I find these beasts and kill them. I may seem powerful to you but I am not a war hero. My illusions will not be enough to trick a powerful Alpha - not when there’s a whole pack of wolves following him. They've all had a taste of my blood, what do you think will happen if I try to kill their Alpha?”

Namjoon’s head is still reeling. He doesn’t really want to talk anymore. If at least one of the members were here. Yoongi, perhaps. Or maybe just the wolf and the stag. Anyone. Comfort. He pulls himself together and speaks, even if his voice is trembling.

“So you collect souls. To become more powerful.”

“Sort of, yes.”

“And what happens to the person who sells their soul?”

“It depends on the contract they make.”

“Contract?”

A new piece of paper appears on the table, flat between them, innocently white against the dark wood and Namjoon feels his heart pound quickly at the sight of it; as if it knew what kind of paper it is. He remembers all the times he’s been standing on a tower in the pool, ten meters above the ground, then letting himself fall into the water below. His body feels the same rush of losing control, sitting in this chair but looking at the paper and Namjoon needs a second to gather control over his mind again. When he takes a second look, the paper doesn’t call forth adrenaline and memories and his ears pop open to hear the sounds of the forest. The Dokkaebi speaks first.

“This contract specifies our deal - I receive your soul for three months in return for letting Park Jimin live with you instead of taking him to the Academy.”

“And how can I be sure that it’s only for three months and that you won’t be taking my soul and do whatever you want with it for all eternity?”

“Think of it as a Netflix subscription… if your free trial is up, the subscription ends.”

Namjoon frowns. “…that’s not how Netflix works... Do you even watch tv?”

“Why would I not be watching tv? There’s lots of good shows…. How To Get Away With Murder, and-“

“Anyway,” Namjoon says, “what happens to me in those three months? What does it mean for me if you have my soul?”

“I don’t need your memories, your emotions or any of that. I merely need your soul’s strength, the horsepower of your soul so to say. In those months, you will probably not be very productive and drift in your thoughts a lot - your mind will automatically drift to me and what I’m doing. But you’ll live normally.”

“That’s not enough then,” Namjoon says. He isn’t sure if that’s too bold to say but he knows that they had agreed to bargain and bargain he will. An idea pops up. “My soul is worth much more than that.”

He seems to have hit the nail on the head because the Dokkaebi frowns.

“I’m in the international business. An absence for three months will result in million-dollar losses. Nowadays, the world doesn’t really run without me. But what’s most important, I have a family to take care of and a leopard shifter brother I need to raise - I want more in exchange.”

“What do you want?”

“How sure can I be that the mentor you pick is good for Jimin and that our CEO will even accept that person?”

“Are you challenging me?”

“No. I’m saying, every mentor must have undergone training themselves. You mentioned a license?”

“There are classes to train mentors and caregivers.”

“Good. Enroll Min Yoongi and me. We’ll do the classes, we’ll take the exam, whatever. We’ll take care of Jimin.”

From the expressions of the Dokkaebi, it’s not discernible how much it is that Namjoon is asking for but from the long silence, Namjoon gathers that it must be a big deal. Whether it’s about sneaking them into the system or breaking the law, he doesn’t care. These are the conditions. I will do whatever I can to make Jimin live the best life possible.

“The class takes three years of teaching. I can’t keep the officials’ eyes away from you for that long.”

“Well, do we have to be present or do we just need to pass the exam?”

“You need to pass the exam.”

“When is the next one?”

“I’m not sure. In five months? I think the exams take place semi-annually.”

“Great, put us on that list. We’ll be there. We’ll pass it.”

The Dokkaebi huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Humans are so stupid. Look, you don’t really think you can learn the stuff from three years of class in five months, do you? Especially when you’re just human.”

“Give me a guidance counsellor then. Something like a tutor.”

“What?”

“Someone to tutor Min Yoongi and me. Someone with experience, a person who’s taken the classes before.”

“I-that’s- you’re asking for a lot, Namjoon-ssi.”

“My soul is worth a lot.”

The forest sings around them as if nothing bad could ever happen here and with every chirp of the birds, Namjoon feels something in his blood surging, like a connection. Almost as if he can feel the grass growing, stretching towards the sky and bathing in the sunlight. By the side, the deer and wolf sit. They look more relaxed than before and Namjoon likes to think it’s because he’s taken control of the situation. The Dokkaebi’s eyes are calculating but also… curious.

“I’ve never met a human who actually knows the value of their soul.”

Namjoon is not Seokjin, so he doesn't think it's the right time to fling in some cheesy pun or snarky comment like, of course, my soul's just as handsome as my face.

“So, what happens to my soul if you die fighting those wolves?”

“Good question. I guess you’d have to hire someone to find it for you.”

“Find it???”

“I suppose so. I’ll make sure your guidance counsellor slash tutor will be able to find your lost soul in case I die. If I can even die. Otherwise, I’ll just bring it back to you.”

“That’s not reassuring at all! What if someone else finds it first? Someone bad?”

“We could always bind it to an object? Something small, something you can keep on your body?”

Namjoon thinks about all those EarPods he’s lost. He shivers at the mental image of his soul falling through some sewer on the street.

“Maybe not too small?”

“I won’t need your soul anytime soon anyway, so we’ll find an adequate object until then. When I need it, I’ll notify you. That all?”

Namjoon looks at the paper and finds that every word has been recorded on the paper in fine calligraphy. It looks like an old Hangul script that he find in museums. It makes him wonder how magic works, how many kinds of magic there are and if it’s anything like he would imagine. If people could really use magic for good, just like Tata with his little ray gun.

“So you want to use my soul to execute revenge.”

“I want to find the people who killed me and make them pay, yes.”

“How about you bring them to the police?”

He should have seen it coming but somehow, he didn’t. The Dokkaebi gets up faster than Namjoon can even register and slams his hand on the table. His eyes are angry, his whole body tense.

“You think they would even care!? No one cares, no one cares for a punished soul! And even if, I don’t think it’s your business how I deal with my stuff.”

“I think it is, considering that it’s my soul you’re taking. I don’t want it to be used for violence.”

“But you want your little brother to stay with you, don’t you?”

Of course Namjoon does. Also, besides wanting Jimin to stay with the group, there’s also a couple of rules Namjoon can’t ignore. No one can know, PDnim had said specifically. We need to keep him safe, Yoongi had pointed out. Even if Jimin wanted to go, Namjoon’s hands would be tied.

“Jimin can’t go,” he says simply, hoping that he won’t have to explain. It’s enough reason. The Dokkaebi nods, as if his reason is the same. Enough.

“Then you can’t care about what I use your soul for. This is the deal. Take it or Jimin will have to go.”

A wave of uncertainty rushes through Namjoon. What can I say to make him reconsider violent behavior? It’s natural in the world to use violence for violence, Namjoon knows that and can’t help but feel disappointed at the realization that it’s no different for the supernatural world. But still, even if that’s the natural way, there’s another path that’s worth taking - Namjoon knows this especially.

“There’s no freedom in-“, he wants to say but the words are stuck in his throat. A cold shiver crawls up his legs like a horde of insects scrambling over each other between his bare skin and his clothing. He looks around, feeling as though time stands still. Everything is still as it was a second ago, the Dokkaebi, the mahogany desk, the wolf, the stag, the trees. But it’s all silent as if someone had turned the birds, the trees and even the frogs off. As if the whole forest is holding its breath for something major to happen. The sunlight still falls through the treetops but it flickers, dipping the clearing in an unsteady light, never quite passing warmth to Namjoon even when it brushes over him. What is going on?

He notices something stirring from the corner of his eyes. When he turns, the wolf and the stag are moving, moving around something. The wolf nudges something, licks and nuzzles his snout into a lump, a naked human body on the grass. The body moves, lifts its blonde head. Jimin? Namjoon is holding his breath along with the forest. It takes minutes but finally, the boy moves more, sits up, encouraged by the wolf that moves around Jimin in gentle steps, tail wagging slowly. When Jimin rubs his eyes like he’s just woken up from sleep, Namjoon can’t help but smile fondly. Jimin shifted back. The Dokkaebi makes a surprised noise by his side but Namjoon ignores him, standing up and walking towards Jimin, who has also found his way up. Their footsteps towards each other echo, hitting grass, little rocks and flowers. Namjoon thinks they echo from within his chest. His racing heart pumps blood through his ears. He sighs in relief when a hand touches his shoulder, closes his eyes for a last time before he lets himself be convinced that this is real. When he opens his eyes, he gasps, even if the image before him is not new. Jimin really stands in front of him, hair in disorganized strands as if he’d run, eyes big and tears wetting his entire face. He’s crying, sobbing and something is wrong with the image of his younger brother but Namjoon can’t figure out what, so he tries to touch Jimin. The skin is familiar and warm and the touch makes the younger shake even worse. Sunshine turns into rainy clouds over their heads.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasps, voice broken and small. His breath brushes over the goosebumps on Namjoon’s skin in fast little waves. Too fast.

“Jiminie, you shifted,” Namjoon rushes to smile warmly, grabbing the boy’s shoulders, “you changed back. How did you do that?”

Jimin looks around, eyes wild as he searches the area around them. For what, Namjoon doesn’t know but the fear in Jimin’s face makes his heart break. He wills his big hands to calm and to quickly wipe Jimin’s cheeks like Taehyung and Seokjin always do to calm him. Jimin whimpers and lets himself be drawn against Namjoon’s chest. Normally, he wouldn’t really do this, but Jimin shaking like a leaf definitely isn’t normal. His little chest is falling and rising too fast and Namjoon feels like he’s holding a delicate bird in his arms. Drops of rain start falling, start trailing long paths over Jimin’s bare skin.

“What’s happening, Jimin-ah? Tell hyung what’s going on, hm?”

What is going on inside his head? Are there side effects to shifting? Is he in pain? Does he remember anything?

Jimin smells good where his hair is right underneath Namjoon’s nose. It’s reassuring to see him back in human form of course but right now Namjoon dares to think that maybe Jimin has shifted back at the wrong time. What if the Dokkaebi will try to take advantage of him? When he’s this vulnerable? What if he just takes him and I can’t do anything? Namjoon is careful, trying not to overwhelm Jimin but he finally has the opportunity to get the answer he’s been dying to hear ever since Jimin found him in the woods.

“Jimin-ah, is Suga-hyung here too? Did you come here with Suga-hyung?”

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, voice fragile, threatening to break while new tears flow out of his beautiful beautiful eyes, “hyung, will you really send me away?”

The forest’s melody dies down into an ugly silence. No buzzing, no life. Namjoon’s heart shatters. Shatters like it’s just a thin slice of glass not meant to withstand anything. He feels the shock crawling into his own face, driving tears into his own eyes. A whisper of betrayal hangs in the air and Namjoon swallows heavily. Before he can say anything, Jimin grabs his arms. Pleading.

“Hyung, please no. Please, please don’t send me away. I would never - I, please, please, I want to stay with you. I love you all so much, I can’t-”

He cries, cries like he hasn’t since a long time ago, since he was younger and more fragile in his spirit, too dependent to reassure himself. Big tears roll over his cheeks, big tears like fat raindrops falling after a forest fire and Namjoon is reminded of that one time he’d found Jimin in the shower, under the running water where he had been for three hours until everyone started looking for him. The water had washed the tears away of course but the redness in Jimin’s eyes and the way he’d curled up on the floor instead of standing had given it all away. In the end, Hoseok had helped him to breathe while Taehyung had patted him dry and given him little kisses on his forehead. Jimin didn’t sleep that night, confiding hoarsely in Taehyung, and had seemed better afterwards but never spoke of it again. The next day, Namjoon was informed of the death threats that had been announced against Jimin and Jungkook and the concerts PDnim had canceled because of it.

“Jimin, I-“

“Please tell me you won’t give me away because I’m different now. You said- you said you’d always love me.”

The tears are real, they slide down from Jimin’s cheeks onto Namjoon’s hands, warmly but clinging onto their skin desperately as if afraid of falling. Namjoon’s heart pounds, strains, tries to escape his chest and engulf Jimin’s to make him feel protected, secure and loved.

“That’s,” Namjoon’s voice breaks, “that’s never gonna happen, Jiminie. We won’t send you away. We’ll never send you away, okay? You’re our brother, you can decide what you want and we’ll always be here for you. We love you so much, you’re our Jiminie.”

Under Namjoon’s hands, Jimin’s tears are wiped off and when he looks at his dongsaeng again, the deep sadness is replaced by glimmers of hope. A pout is on Jimin’s warm lips as he mumbles, “promise?”

“I promise.”

The way Jimin’s face lights up like the golden sun breaking forth from behind the clouds is everything. If he was any more sentimental, Namjoon would probably really believe Jimin was an angel. But there’s something… unsettling in the way Jimin’s beautiful eyes start looking glassy. Glassy if there’s some sad part of him that can’t believe Namjoon’s promise.

“But would you… would you really sell your soul for me?”

Namjoon breathes, feels lightheaded, feels the air rushing inside his lungs, rushing in, rushing out. Feels peace in the rush. Wants to give the same peace to Jimin. The tender love Jimin always gives but never expects to be given in return.

“Jiminie, it’s because of my soul that I can serve you and the members. I will fight for you with all that I am but I don’t know if I can give my soul away and still-”

It’s difficult to say this and to see the hope in his dongsaeng’s eyes flicker and turn into new tears. Jimin presses his eyes shut, a bitter smile on his lips.

“I trust you, hyung. If you want me to suffer, I will. You’re my leader. I will always follow you. You’re my home, you know that, right?”

“I know-“ Namjoon’s voice completely breaks. This is the worst he’s ever felt towards Jimin even if the younger is smiling at him, he knows that not doing it would make him think that he betrayed Jimin forever. In the rain, it looks as if Jimin’s whole body is crying violently. With a start, Namjoon knows. I have to protect him in any way I can. If it’s this sacrifice, that’s life. It will all turn out well. It always does.

“Oh, Jiminie. You’re my home, too. We will never send you away.”

For a second, he becomes a witness of the sunrise that’s Jimin’s smile. It swells along with the crescendo of the forest, swells into a warmth that soaks into Namjoon’s body. It's so beautiful, almost like it can make up for all the shit and all the disgustingness his day had brought. Namjoon wraps his arms around Jimin, letting his nose get buried in Jimin's neck, just the way he knows Jimin likes to be hugged. And then it happens. With an ice-cold start, Namjoon realizes that something about this is wrong. He realizes what has been bothering him at the back of his mind for their entire conversation. Why the chill on his legs had never gone away. He hadn’t felt Jimin’s heartbeat. Even with his fingers digging into Jimin’s cheeks, into Jimin’s shoulders and while holding his head against his chest by the neck, Namjoon hadn’t felt Jimin’s heartbeat pulsing under the delicate skin. Just like the leopard - the illusion of the leopard. Within seconds, Jimin dissolves like a ruined reflection in a lake - and Namjoon looks straight into the dark, gleaming eyes of the Dokkaebi. The Dokkaebi who is holding a whining leopard cub in his arms. The only weak comfort are the red stripes on his hands that look suspiciously like claw marks.

“How heartwarming. Now, let's move on.”

Namjoon gasps like he’s resurfacing after a long dive. He holds his chest but can’t find the hurting spot. It aches from deep down, hollow. Around him, the rain is back and crashing down. The initial peace is nowhere to be found. An illusion. It was - it was another trick. Namjoon slides off the chair, can’t hold himself, sinks to his knees, gasping for air. It takes more than a minute to come back to his senses, the nausea overwhelming. The forest’s song has turned into a mess, an arrhythmical clashing of dissonant sounds.

“How- how did you do that?”

“Hmmm, I didn’t do anything. Your imagination is really powerful, all it needed was a tiny push. Now, if you’d sign here and here… You have come to a decision, have you not?”

Namjoon’s heart pounds furiously and he starts to believe that people saying “follow your heart” clearly haven’t ever stood before decisions like this. One side of his conscious knows that the Dokkaebi is a supernatural being and that there’s no way he could ever take this guy on but the other side of his mind tells him that every creature has a weakness and that a trickster can be defeated through a trick. But there’s no real way to tell whether he can even win this game or not - other than trying. His hands are shaking so he puts them into the wolf’s fur. The touch ignites a prickling sensation, almost like little lights crawling into his hands to give courage and strength. And if this is the last thing I try, I have to do it. For Jimin.

“I-I made my decision.”

“And which is it?”

“I decide not to tell you. You didn’t tell me I had to tell you what it is, you only said that I needed to decide.”

The twitch in the Dokkaebi’s eyes gives it all away - it’s a valid loophole and the Dokkaebi has not expected Namjoon to find it.

“That’s unacceptable, you can’t-“

“In fact, I can. This is my Essence, my bokjil, isn’t it? Nothing can happen here if I don’t allow it. I could just go back and report you.”

Namjoon feels like there’s hot courage boiling in every vein. The wolf nudges his cheek in silent praise. It feels like victory. Until the Dokkaebi laughs.

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi, how do think you got here in the first place?”

Namjoon hates the patronizing tone.

“Do you really think you’re so great that you can transport your physical body into your soul’s landscape yourself? And how do you think you will get out of it without my help? Do you want to wander your own soul for the rest of your life and never go back?”

Everything shatters. Shatters like it’s final and there’s no saving left for this mess. Shatters like the melody is irreparable, useless.

“Give me Jimin first,” Namjoon croaks.

“Sign first. I will give him to you right after.”

“You have been tricking me left and right. How do you expect me to believe you say the truth?”

The Dokkaebi laughs.

“Hm, I see we have a bit of a misunderstanding here. You see, I haven’t lied to you. Tricks and lies are really two different things. Lying means intentionally misleading someone. A trick is just a suggestion. If you fall for it, that's your bad. Also, I do have some honor. I’m not a liar. I always keep my word.”

Namjoon shudders, feeling empty, feeling defeated. His shoulders sag, his chest hurts. I just want to go home. Thunder shakes the sky and lighting crashes down when the pen in his hand scratches over the rough paper. The ground beneath his feet turns to mud with the myriads of water drops catapulting against it. Everything is wet, the uncomfortable sort of wet that you’re not prepared for even with an umbrella and a rain jacket. The drops are invasive, driving straight through Namjoon’s clothes and pressing obnoxiously against his skin. It’s unrealistic and illogical but Namjoon fears that they might dig through his skin and pierce his organs if he doesn’t get out of here soon.

The Dokkaebi smiles when Namjoon puts the pen down. The mahogany desk disappears behind a new veil of rain and Namjoon feels unprotected with nothing firm between the Dokkaebi and him. He sighs in relief when Jimin’s wet snout, wet fur, wet body touches his fingers, when the little one mewls in his arms.

“It’s alright, baby. I’m here. It’s alright.”

“I believe we’re done here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Namjoon-ssi.”

He should be glad it’s all over, should be glad this weird meeting is coming to an end and he will go home and all but all that’s left on Namjoon’s mind is the feeling that he’s missing something. That he’s been tricked beyond simple illusions, bereaved of answers, options, freedom, god knows what else.

“Wait,” he says, barely able to keep his eyes open in the strong rain, “why me? Out of the millions of souls in Seoul, why did you pick mine?”

He notices a grey figure moving through the rain. Wolf? The Dokkaebi seems to notice it too but instead of being intimidated by the animal that could tear him apart any second, he speaks calmly.

“As I said before. Each beast has its own preferences.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, the dark glint in his eyes and the wicked smirk on his lips the last things Namjoon sees. He smiles weakly, finally able to breathe now that the menace is gone. He looks down at Jimin in his arms, finally safe. In a gesture meant to calm the shivering cub, Namjoon lets his fingers move through the cub’s fur as tenderly as he can, careful not to pull on the strands of hair the printer ink still glues together. Jimin purrs when Namjoon rubs his neck. And then - Namjoon freezes, nausea swelling up like a roaring tsunami. There’s no pulse. A dark wave pushes over him, making him numb and deaf, making him drown in himself. The leopard baby falls apart in his hands. Instead of the forest’s melody, there’s laughter. Namjoon falls to his knees. He vomits. Namjoon sits in the rain, unmoving and alone, only the wolf by his side, silently spending warmth. The rain drops sting.

“How do you want the song to sound?”

Namjoon has a few ideas already, here between the softness of the pillows and the gentle curls of Taehyung’s permed brown hair and the hazy glow outside the windows where rain keeps running down the glass tirelessly. On the windowsill, a scented candle flickers, spreading its cozy wooden scent. It’s most likely a gift from Jimin and therefore a treasured reminder of something special for Taehyung.

“It should sound like tearing your heart out violently. Like crying, too. Because our tears are just like raindrops,” Namjoon sees Taehyung staring into the distance, face grim as little wet streaks trail down his cheeks and drip off his jaw, “without the pain, there is no need for comfort. Even if you’re not scared of it anymore, being broken still has to hurt. It hurts every time.”

Namjoon kneels in a familiar living room, shaking, dripping, gasping. There’s a puddle of water at his knees, slowly sinking into the carpet. His head spins and he’s nauseous, as if his whole body rhythms and sensory systems have all been overloaded and violated. He still feels the stinging pricks of rain drill into him. Even the comforting and familiar scent of Yoongi’s cooking is not enough to calm him down. He’s home, yes, but he can’t stop shaking. Is this… what going insane feels like?

The only sense of relief comes when a small rumbling distracts him from all the noise in his head. A tiny body of violently colorful fur rolls around on a blanket on the sofa to his left. The kitty rumbles, its paws kneading the air while it sleeps. Namjoon doesn’t dare to believe it, inherently afraid to fall for another cruel trick. Slowly, he leans over to put a hand on Jimin’s chest. Thump, thump, thump. Peace. Glorious peace spreads in Namjoon’s chest. It’s real. This time, it’s really real. It seeps through his entire body and Namjoon relaxes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Jimin is fine. Jimin will be fine. I made my decision. It will be alright.

“Namjoon!?”

He flinches when something crashes against the floor. A cup of tea stains Yoongi’s white slippers, the shards in a circle around him like he’s standing in a bomb’s impact crater. When Namjoon lifts his hand to wave, his wet clothes feel gross and heavy. Yoongi frowns. One look at Jimin, the paper bag that stands next to the sofa and Namjoon realizes something he hasn’t even thought of while in the woods.

“Namjoon-ah. Are you alright? Were were you? Sejin-hyung said-”

Yoongi’s eyes follow his, the genuine concern put on pause when he understands that Namjoon is focused on something else. When their eyes meet again, Namjoon can literally see his hyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t say it, hyung-“

“Where are they?”

Namjoon grimaces.

He forgot the shopping bags in the woods.

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight ] tags: @xmagicxshopx, @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae (wanna join? send me an ask!) ✨

#park jimin #bts #bts fanfic #jimin #bangtan #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #cat jimin #supernatural bts #shapeshifter jimin #wordsturnintostories #show me your rosettes baby g

[amenomiko]

Request: "Ikemen Sengoku Warlords and MC when she's on her period".

1. Nobunaga

-Silently fidgets when MC glares in War Council. If he's not mistaken, he kinda heard she mumbles "Stupid war. Stupid council. Stupid Meeting. Stupid Nobunaga."

-"....You think?" She answered when Nobunaga smugly asked "Are you angry, fireball?" That makes his smug disappeared in instant.

-She even "TCH-ed" LOUDLY when Hideyoshi nag at her for speaking that way to Nobunaga.

-At the end of the council, he tried to approach his wife but was left dumbfounded in the hall when she smacked his hands away and said "Touch me again and I will feed all your konpeitos to the ants until they are fat."

-He may be the boss of the warlords but woman's time of the month is more scary than anything.

2. Hideyoshi

-Startled when MC starts to tear up all of a sudden.

-"M-MC?? I'm sorry..! I really am!! I'm just all dirty from battling the enemy it's not that I don't want to kiss you!!"

-Nope. She is bawling now. Running to Nobunaga, shouting "I WILL TELL NOBUNAGA SO YOU BE JOBLESS AND WILL GET A NEW JOB LIKE A REAL MONKEY, YOU GREEN SEXY BANANA!!!!"

-Hideyoshi: ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ Green Sexy Ba- what- *realizes* WAIT MC NO--

-Too late. Nobunaga stepped out from his room, with crying MC behind him.

-"N-no!! I didn't do anything at all, Nobunaga-sama!!"

-"Hideyoshi. Climb the tree by tomorrow."

-He is the one who is bawling now.

3. Masamune

-MC!! My beloved wife..! I'm back- *SLAPPED*

-She gasped, realizing what she had done to her husband. "M-Masamune..! I'm sorry I really am!!"

-"Ah, no no it's okay- ahhaha you caught me there. (It kinda hurt tho) welp- where's my welcome home kiss?? ❤❤❤❤"

-As Masamune starts to lean down MC feels uncomfortable and the irritation in her growing back again.

-She hissed. "Don't. Touch. Me."

-Masamune: (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) eh?

-She grabbed his collar, growling "DIE OR COOK ME SOMETHING SWEET. CHOOSE."

-Masamune: M-MC?? What are you-

-She cried. FOR. NO. REASON. It catches the attention of Shogetsu and Shogetsu thinks his master has been bullying MC and he bites Masamune.

-"OUCH SHOGETSU WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE YOU BITING MY ARSE--"

4. Ieyasu

-MC's time of the month can be scary.

-The pain is too much to the point she can faint. At any time. Any place.

-There's time where she fainted in the middle of walking to war council. Some vassals accidentally trip over her, and some thinks there's a huge STARFISH in the middle of the hallway.

-And there's time when Ieyasu nearly dropped his bowl of medicine because his pale wife CRAWLING towards him as he opened the door.

-It panicked him when MC suddenly groans during war council and crouch down, clutching her lower stomach and breathe like fish out of water.

-To Ieyasu, woman's time of the month is like a survival month of having heart palpitations.

5. Mitsuhide

-Other than melting whenever MC show her cute side, MC's time of the month is also the time where he couldn't (more like wouldn't) know HOW to react to her mood swings.

-MC can just suddenly cry (even when Mitsuhide is showing his teasing grin to her). He can find an excuse if she's crying for the reason of teasing her but no, she will accuse herself for being boring and an idiot and blame herself that Mitsuhide force himself to love her (All of this sudden overthinking is overwhelming, he didn't know how to stop MC)

-And then he will be suddenly pushed against the wall. Being kissed is alright, but nope. He can feel his lower hakama being stripped. And if it's not because Hideyoshi who appeared out of nowhere, well... he will be eaten for sure. "Eaten". Yis 👀.

-At the end of the day, fatigue take over him. Worst than spying an enemy. He just wished it will end soon.

6. Mitsunari

-"*gasp* M-MC..! Mmmf..! MC forgive me..! If there's-- mmf- anythin-- mmf- did I ever do- mmf- to you--mmf..!!"

-It was supposed to be a beautiful day. Woke up beside his beautiful wife, eats breakfast with his beautiful wife, goes to war council with his beautiful wife, goes back to read some good book, until the book is tossed away and he was pinned onto the wall by his beautiful wife.

-Then he was kissed many times, before he could catch a breath, he was kissed again. And again. And again. But his wife is not drunk, he thought. But the look in MC's eyes is.. Like a wolf who wanted to eat its prey so bad.

-"MC-- A-Are you hurt anywhere--" A finger silenced his lips.

-"The day is still long, my angel. Allow me to ravish you." She grinned.

-"EH O/////A/////O-- AAAAHHHHH ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤"

7. Kenshin

-He hugged his wife, patting her back so it could lessen the pain inside her.

-"Is it still hurts?" He whispered.

-"It......hurts... Like....*gasp* s-s-.."

-"....? S?"

-"s-seppuku--" She sobbed.

-He held her close, realizing her body had formed a cold sweat. He was about to let the bunnies inside, until she sobbed again, "Nnn don't leave me...!"

-He smiled. "I won't. I just want to let them in so they can make you warmer."

-"....." She lie down, pulling him to be on top of her as she circle her arms around his neck as she continued, "Bun bun, is it me..? Or the bunnies?"

-Kenshin: (What's a "Bun bun"? She can sound weird like Sasuke) What do you mean?

-The smile on her lips slowly fading. "Me..? Or the bunnies..?"

-"Of course it's you. The bunnies only followed me around. It's not that they are my pet."

-"......Good."

-Suddenly he can feel the chill in her voice. But when he about to let it pass, she said in a low voice, "If you choose them I will feed them to all your vassals or make a rabbit wine." She smiled. Ear to ear.

-Kenshin: You are indeed my Goddess of War.

-Meanwhile, Sasuke who happens to be at the ceiling has recorded some audio as he mumble to himself, "She said terrifying things in this month again, I'm sure she will cry once "it" ends. Again." (Meaning: MC will be into her obsessed mode when she is on her period. And will cry so much when people tells her what is the cruel thing she's been saying when she's at it.)

8. Shingen

-It surprises him when she bursts into the room, crying on his chest.

-"MC?? Goddess?? What's wrong?? Are you hurt??"

-"Shingen..! I.. I... I want to eat Dango. And dumpling. And all the sweets in Kasugayama..! I.. I... I'M DYINGGGGGG!!!" She bawls.

-Ah, I guess this is what Sasuke has been telling me. The woman's time of the month. He thought.

-"Alright!! Let's go together? I will buy all of the sweets for you!"

-The beam on her smile is like a blessing light from a real goddess. So BLINDING AND BEAUTIFUL. Well, his wife is a real goddess anyway. Heh. Lucky me to have a goddess as my wife. He thought again. Smiling like an idiot for a good 3 seconds.

-Then they go. They buy all of the sweets she wanted. But then all of a sudden stupid Ronins decided to appear that particular day, to disturb them. To disturb MC.

-Before Shingen decided to just give a small blow to them, his long sword disappeared from his grip.

-He was too shocked to say anything the moment MC swings his sword and cut all of the Ronins' clothes, leaving them nothing. Nothing at all. Even their fudoshi (underwears in the past)

-"Disturb me and my husband again... YOU WON'T FEEL ANYTHING WHEN YOU OOH LALA YOUR WOMAN YOU PIECE OF TRASH OOORAAAA" She spat, brushing her hair back with her fingers, huffed like those yakuza's ane-san.

-Shingen blushed. "My Goddess is sexy". Is all he could come into conclusion with.

9. Yukimura

-"Hey, do you want anything from the sweet shop? Shingen-sama told me to buy some sweets as usual."

-MC smiled. "It's okay, Honey. I'm good."

-He raised his eyebrows. "Really? You sure? Don't attack me like wild boar later okay?"

-She smiled and laughed. "I won't Honey. Be safe okay?"

-Looks like MC's time of the month is good this time. He thought. No mood swings, no unecessary anger, no dramatic crying, nothing. I bet this will be a good month. He smiled to himself.

-After he kissed her, went out to buy some sweets, he came back to the castle. MC beamed and suddenly said "Awww Honey?? You bought this for me? That's so sweet of you..!"

-He was taken aback. "But you said- you didn't want-"

-Uh oh. She clenched her chin. She's quivering. She's-

-"*sniffs* YOU ARE SO INSENSITIVE I HATE YOU!!!!"

-"OOOOFFFF *COUGH*!!!!!" She had run and bonk her head onto his chest, making all the sweets fell from his grip at the same time. Then she run out, crying for Shingen, Kenshin, Yoshimoto, and Sasuke.

-*BAM* He K.O-ed on the floor. And not until 5 minutes, the so called warlords that his wife has cried for appeared.

-"Yyyuuuukkkkiiiii~~~??? Looks like you are still bad towards girls even though you are married huh~~?"

-He couldn't even say "ouch" when Shingen flicked his forehead, Kenshin sliced his middle hair with the help of Yoshimoto's guidance to make him look like those typical bald samurai. And Sasuke? He only kneel next to his bestfriend and whispered, "RIP Yukimura's handsome hair. Amen."

-He was left there. All alone. Yukimura with bald samurai hairstyle.... RIP indeed.

10. Sasuke

-He is all prepared.

-He even studied how to make Chocolate that haven't existed yet in Sengoku Era, specially made for his wife.

-He hugged MC when the cramp came like a wave, massaging her back, helping her to sit up to let her drink warm water.

-"Shhh.. You are not a living Pretzel, you are just having your period cramps."

-"No, you are not fat, you are beautiful."

-"How big is my love? I love you as big as the ocean."

-MC:....So it's smaller than the earth huh. *glares*

-Sasuke: *sweats* N-no that's not what I mean.

I mean.. I love you, as big as the whole universe.

-MC:.......TCH.

-Sasuke: *sweat sweat* What I mean is.

-MC: You can sleep in the ceiling tonight.

-(Let this nightmare end fast.. I want my cute and innocent MC back) *low sob*

DONE ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ Ah I'm sorry. No Kennyo in this (╥ω╥`). Hope you guys like it.

(I always wonder how the Woman in this era manage with their periods huh? (*・x・)/)

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagine #ikemen mitsuhide #ikemen nobunaga #ikemen ieyasu #ikemen mitsunari #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen kenshin #ikemen masamune #ikemen sasuke #ikemen yukimura #ikemen shingen #ikesen

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x male naga (nsfw)

This is a commission for someone who asked me to hold off posting it til today because it’s their birthday. So, happy birthday! I hope you like this. I really enjoyed working with these two characters of yours, and I’m totally in love with Ambrose...

Contents: one naga with some colourful language, one shy and arachnophobic drider boy, some thievery, some fluff, and some smut. Length: 4847 words

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Aiden cursed as he ducked and wove through the dense pine trees as evening pressed on relentlessly into night and the baying of the hounds and shouting of guards faded behind him.  

It had all been going so well until the duchess had returned early to her chambers and caught him red-handed with his sharp, taloned claws in her safe. She’d shrieked half the castle down, screaming about thieving snakes, leaving the naga no choice but to hurl himself out of the window and take a long dive into the freezing, filthy moat surrounding her castle. At least he still had her jewels in his satchel. He grinned wickedly to himself, canines flashing in the dying light of the day.  

Honestly, he was exhausted.

His python-like lower half was built for stealth rather than for prolonged speed, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop. The warmth had faded from the day, and the cold-blooded naga was starting to feel the chill as his muscles tightened and began to burn. His underside bore scratches and scrapes from his long flight, first through the remote castle’s extensive grounds, and then out into the wilder woods beyond. Sharp rocks had scored along his thick, red-scaled hide, leaving him bruised and a bit bloody, and he ached all over.  

Thirsty, weak, and with nowhere left to go, he eventually slowed his pace, breathing hard, and came to a halt in a quiet glade amid tall, silent pine trees. The wind hissed in the needled canopy above, but down here between the sentinel trunks, nothing moved. The baying of the duke’s hounds had long since faded into nothing, and as he swept his spiky, dark red hair back out of his eyes, he went utterly still, straining to hear any sounds at all. His head swam and his vision went double for a moment. He’d not eaten in days and while that wasn’t normally an issue for a naga, it was going to be problem for him soon after expending so much energy on escaping.  

Lightheaded, weak, and shaky, he swayed on the spot.  

Something darker than the surrounding shadows moved in the trees up ahead, and he swore softly, trying to get his eyes to focus.  

He ground his teeth and drew his body up tall, hoping to look menacing, but the extra effort sapped the last vestiges of strength from him and before he knew what was happening, he had pitched forwards and was lying face down in the carpet of old pine needles. Woozy, on the edge of consciousness, he watched as the dusk-dark body of a drider emerged hesitantly from the trees. He couldn't see enough to make out any features, but the blue-black of the delicate limbs that speared down silently into the forest floor was enough to tell him it was a drider.  

“Shit,” he hissed and his eyes rolled shut as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion. 

When he next stirred, he was chilled and sluggish, and lying in the dark somewhere. Warmth; he needed to get warm. And where the hell was he? The last thing he recalled was the approach of a drider. He realised with a jolt of fear that he should be wrapped up in webbing, stored for some future meal, if even half of what was said about driders was true. But he was free, if sluggish and sore.  

He blinked and tried to push himself upright on shaking arms, his cold muscles reluctant to obey him, and as he shifted, something squeaked at the back of whatever dank cave he was in. A rat?  

Still fighting the lingering grogginess, he lifted his head and saw a drider shoot backwards, stumbling over its tangle of spindly limbs, only to sit down heavily and stare at him with wide, panicked, dark eyes. The drider looked young, but into his adult years, and his dark, messy, almost violet-purple hair fell into his eyes as he panted, clearly terrified, and stared at the naga. The skin of his human half was bear and almost pure white, in stark contrast to his dark spider’s body, and his torso was rather scrawny, skinny, and a little pathetic, but flawless as carved marble.  

“Hello,” the drider croaked awkwardly. “You’re awake. You startled me.”

“No shit,” Aiden grunted. “Where the hell am I? And who are you?”

“My… My name is Ambrose,” he faltered, following it up with a frankly adorable smile, and Aiden was pleasantly surprised by the little dimples that formed in his cheeks at the gesture. “You’re… You’re in my -” he broke off with a screech and shot sideways, limbs scrabbling on the stony floor as he stared at the floor beside him.

“What the fuck?” Aiden muttered as he watched the drider panic at apparently nothing. “What is wrong with you?”

“Spider,” the drider whimpered pathetically, pointing a slender finger at the spot where he’d been sitting in a mess of dark limbs only a moment before.  

Aiden found laughter bubbling up inside him and he roared with amusement, the whole cave echoing with the sound of it. “You’re shitting me!” he wheezed. “Oh that’s fucking precious! A drider that’s afraid of spiders!” He laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes watered, but when he eventually got himself together, he wiped the tears from his eyes and crooned in a patronising baby-voice, “You want me to put it outside for you?”

“Yes please…” the drider mumbled miserably, not meeting Aiden’s gaze.  

Aiden snorted, still chuckling to himself, and scooped the tiny black spider up and chucked it out into the forest, feeling the drag of his cold tail and the ache of his muscles. He grunted and winced, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the cave. “So, this dump is your home then?”

Ambrose’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and he nodded. “Yes. It’s… It’s not much. And thank you for putting the spider outside,” he said. “Normally I just wait over here until they’ve gone away…”

“You have to be the worst spider boy ever,” he snickered, ignoring the way Ambrose’s face crumpled dejectedly.  

The drider levered himself up off the ground, arranging his stick-like legs underneath him and, to Aiden’s surprise, the naga realised he was really quite tall. His legs were thin and fragile looking, and his pendulous, midnight black body was covered in silky-soft hair. The tactile naga was almost overwhelmed by the desire to touch it, and drew himself back before he could give in to the unexpected urge.  

“Well,” Aiden said, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a fire pit in this hovel, have you? I’m fucking frozen, and I stink from my impromptu swim in that foul bitch’s moat. I need a bath, and I need to warm the fuck up.”

Ambrose looked frankly horrified at the naga’s crass language, and Aiden reminded himself to rein it in a bit. No need to offend the person who’d been kind enough to pick him up and bring him here. He mused on that for a while and then asked, “Hang on a second… How the fuck did you get me in here? You look like one stiff breeze would send you spinning away like a tumbleweed!” He laughed at the image of the poor little drider cartwheeling away on the wind, only to find Ambrose looking hurt and embarrassed. “Ah, shit,” the naga added. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ambrose mumbled. “I’m stronger than I look though. I dragged you here. I made a litter out of web and pulled it like a sled. You’re heavy, but I managed alright.” He tucked a stray strand of his inky hair behind his delicate ear and added, “There’s a stream just a few hundred yards that way, if you wanted to wash. I’ll start a fire for you.”

Something about the quiet sadness in his voice made Aiden pause. He looked at the miserable looking drider and asked, “You live out here alone?”

He nodded mutely and turned away.

With a sigh, Aiden slithered painfully out of the cave and found the stream. It was freezing, but it washed off the muck from the moat, and with every icy wave that bit into his skin, he promised himself he’d be warming up beside a toasty fire before too long.  

Aiden hauled himself back up the steep bank, panting and groaning, his head aching and his vision blurred from exhaustion and lack of food. He let out a string of vile curses when he had to force himself to stop and take a breather. “Damned, fucking cold-blooded snake,” he swore, cranking his tail up the last bit of the incline and beginning his slow drag back to the cave.  

When he got there, he found that Ambrose was heating a pot of something over a now-roaring fire, and it smelled amazing. “What’s cooking?” he asked, nearly adding ‘good looking’ for good measure afterwards, but he decided against it.  

“Rabbit stew,” he said. “I made it this morning. It’s good to be reheated once more though. Is that alright?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grinned, and Ambrose gave him a very shy little smile in return. Something about it made Aiden’s stomach flip over and he crushed the sensation immediately. It wouldn’t do to go falling for some cute little spider boy when he was out in the middle of nowhere and still had to turn his thieved goods into his guild’s boss.  

The two shared their meal in relative silence, but Aiden couldn’t help noticing the way Ambrose always made sure he had enough, and how the drider watched him eat and then glanced away whenever he caught him staring.  

“You really don’t get out much, do you?” he asked boldly when it happened for the third or fourth time. “How many other people have you seen lately?”

Tears formed suddenly in Ambrose’s eyes and he looked away. Guilt lanced through Aiden, and he lowered his empty bowl, setting it down on the ground.  

“Hey, come on, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be…” He broke off and turned away. “I know I can be a real dick sometimes. Maybe it comes from having two of them…” he interjected, and then cursed himself for saying something so crude. “Anyway, look, I just meant… you seem nice. You don’t deserve to be shut away up here in the mountains, living alone in a cave full of spiders that you’re absolutely terrified of.” He couldn't help the little giggle at the memory of Ambrose tripping over himself in his terror at the little spider, but his mirth was short-lived.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Ambrose said in a tiny voice.  

The way he said it made something in Aiden’s chest crack. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m scared to go out alone. So many people hate my kind. I’m scary to them, but really… I’m… I’m the one who’s afraid.”

“Come with me,” Aiden said before he’d even thought about what he was going to say. The sudden statement shocked him; Aiden was not known for random acts of kindness.

“Where? Where will you go? I saw what was in that bag,” he said, pointing to the satchel with the stolen diamond tiara and necklaces. “You’re a thief and a criminal. What kind of life are you trying to offer me?”

Aiden hissed out a sigh. “You’re right. But I mean… spider silk is really good for healing, and you could maybe work at a healers nearby if… you know… ah shit, what am I saying? I don’t know.” He scratched his head, feeling the rake of his sharp claws over his scalp. “You don’t even know me.” He sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

Ambrose looked at him steadily across the dancing flames of the fire pit. The light reflected in his big, dark eyes, and Aiden felt that strange coiling in his gut again that had nothing to do with the excellent food that the drider had prepared for him. He was strangely beautiful, in his skinny, slightly creepy looking way, but it was easy to see how some folk might be unnerved by the sight of him.  

The warmth from the fire began to make his head nod and a drowsiness washed over him as he coiled himself up tightly beside the fire pit a few minutes later.  

“You should rest,” Ambrose murmured quietly, coming over and stooping gracefully to pick up the wooden bowl that Aiden had abandoned beside him.  

“Thankssssssss…” he hissed, forgetting not to lisp as his body tipped towards sleep before he could stop it. He must have been more exhausted than he’d realised as he slurred, “That wassssss reallygood.”

“I’m glad,” Ambrose said in a soft voice. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Mmm,” was all Aiden could get out before he slipped into sleep.  

Inhaling deeply, he stirred and felt the warm weight of a huge woollen blanket over him, and he looked up to see Ambrose on the other side of the cave, curled with his legs stowed neatly beneath him on a wide hammock of web. The thought struck Aiden that he looked oddly sweet like that, and he smiled.  

The gentle vibrations caused by the naga waking and stretching must have reached the slumbering drider because he twitched awake with a yelp of distress and scuttled back into the deepest corner of the cave, eyes wide and fearful and unfocused.  

“Hey, it’s just me, dumbass,” Aiden chortled. “Remember, the criminal snake you adopted yesterday?”

Ambrose surprised him by beaming a wide smile at him that stopped his slow-beating heart for a few seconds and stalled his brain. Gods above; he was beautiful.  

“What?” the drider asked. “Do I have drool on my face? Have I leaked webbing or something?”  

“Is that like pissing yourself?” he snorted, shattering whatever moment had hung pendulously between them.  

“No,” Ambrose replied, blushing prettily. “It’s still embarrassing though.”

When he looked around and saw that in fact everything was as it should be, with no drool or webbing out of place, he sighed and stretched. Aiden tried not to watch too closely as his torso flexed, but he found that he had to turn away all the same.  

Ambrose went lax with a grunt and looked over at Aiden with his big dark eyes gleaming softly. “How are you feeling today?”

“Stiff, tired, achy…” Aiden complained. “But mostly alright, I guess.”

Ambrose’s previously relaxed posture tightened and he looked suddenly as though he were staving off tears.  

Aiden moved closer, his smooth, hard scales barely whispering on the cold rock of Ambrose’ dank little home. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, trying to hide his emotions behind a wavering little smile. “Nothing…”

Aiden cocked an eyebrow, and Ambrose caved.  

“Fine,” the drider sniffed, turning away, legs moving like a clockwork automaton.  

Not having legs himself, Aiden would have been lying if he had said that he didn't also find Ambrose’ eight, slender legs fascinating. Forcing himself to concentrate, he shifted a little closer to the drider, who paused when he sensed him getting near, and drew in another long breath before speaking.  

“I suppose… I mean… it’s kind of lonely up here in the forest…”

“But this cave is full of spiders to keep you company,” Aiden jested, and Ambrose suppressed a shudder. “Ok, seriously though, if you hate it so much, why do you live here? There’s a town not fifty miles away, and for someone with legs like yours, that wouldn’t be a taxing journey… I don’t get the whole hermit act… Give people a chance… Trust me, there are way scarier looking beasties out there than you. You’re positively angelic in comparison to some of the folk in my guild, let me tell you…”

Ambrose looked over his slender shoulder at Aiden and gave a sad little smile. “You’re the first person who’s ever seen me and not run screaming.”

Aiden’s heart cracked at that. “What?” he breathed. “You’re shitting me! But… But you’re -” he cut off quickly before he embarrassed himself.  

“I’m a drider, that’s what!” Ambrose said hotly, drawing himself up tall, and for the first time, Aiden saw him as perhaps others did: more than a little ‘otherworldly’, with his big dark eyes and ghostly pale skin, his long limbs and his rounded, downy arachnid body. “People hate driders. They think we’re creepy or scary, or that we eat their children, or wrap them up in web for later and suck them dry…”

“You don’t?” Aiden snorted. “Damn, I quite liked the idea of being able to say I’d survived a few nights with a monster…”

The hurt on Ambrose’ face cut Aiden to the quick once again.  

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I always run my mouth when I get uncomfortable.”

“See? I make even you uncomfortable!” he said, huge, crystal tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “And you’re a criminal and a thief!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffed defensively. “Just because I nick stuff for a living, doesn’t mean I hang around with creeps… Ok, maybe I do, but they’re alright. My crew is alright. We don’t steal from people who don’t deserve it, you know?”  

He darted back to where his satchel still lay on the rock and scooped it up, drawing out the sparkling gems.  

“The bitch who owned these has a whole vault beneath the castle. She just kept these ones in her room because they were her favourite. She also keeps a tiefling on a leash as some kind of sick pet, and she’s got a centaur whose coat she dyes baby pink and has her paraded around for her amusement. Trust me, I’ve seen monsters, and you, my friend, are not one.”

Ambrose was still crying silently, but he lowered his dark spider’s body close to the floor, legs moving seamlessly like the dwarven and goblin lifting mechanisms at the docks. “I guess I don’t want you to go yet,” he said in a small voice.  

“Who said I was going anywhere?” he grinned, wondering what he was getting himself into. This wasn’t like him. Had Ambrose been anyone else, he’d have left him in the dust a long time ago, but there was something about his curious innocence, and the way he had instinctively helped the weakened naga, despite his obvious wariness of others…  

Ambrose perked up visibly at that. “You… You mean you want to stay?”

“Maybe for a few more days,” he shrugged, putting the jewellery back in the sack. “Just until I feel myself again, you know?”

“This isn’t you at your best?” Ambrose joked, and he was met with an answering grin from Aiden.  

“Ho boy,” Aiden beamed at him, sharp canines showing. “I’m unstoppable when I’m on top form. Just you wait.”

The exchange seemed to have cheered Ambrose up, but when Aiden asked the drider if he fancied showing him around the surrounding forest, Ambrose shrank away again, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?”  

“I… I don’t go out much.”

Well, that much was actually obvious to the naga, but still… “Just a few yards from the cave?” he said. “I’m cold and I could use some sunshine on my scales, you know?” he said, flicking his red hair playfully. It was enough to draw a little smile from Ambrose, and he agreed to accompany Aiden to the mouth of the cave, and then just a bit further.  

Aiden found himself drawing the drider out more and more, both literally, and metaphorically as they laughed together over meals, or, more accurately, as Aiden scandalised him with tales of his thieving crew’s antics and escapades. However, after another four days, Aiden was certain of two things. The first was that he had stayed too long and his crew would be wondering if he’d just run off with the profits of the heist, and the second was that he was falling for this sweet, intelligent, shy, under-socialised drider faster and harder than he ever would have thought possible.  

“Come with me,” he murmured, on the evening when he had decided to announce that he absolutely had to return the next day.  

The two were lying beside the fire, Ambrose with all his legs tucked up adorably beneath him so that he looked like a little black cat with its paws scrunched in close to its body. He was also leaning his upper body against Aiden’s, who was coiled around Ambrose’ entire form. He was just long enough to be able to encircle him completely, the very tip of his tail just coming to rest in front of Ambrose’ spider body. Occasionally, the dark tip of his tail would twitch involuntarily, and Ambrose’ eyes would always dart down to look at it, and he would twitch his pretty lips into a little smile every time. Naturally, Aiden did it deliberately sometimes, just to watch his new friend’s reaction.  

“I can’t,” Ambrose whispered hoarsely.  

“Do you want to?” Aiden asked. “I mean, don’t you want to see the world? Do you really want to live out your whole life in this one cave full of spiders which you’re terrified of? How long do driders even live anyway…?”

His face crumpled. “We can live a long time,” he mumbled. “And no. Of course I don’t want to stay here alone forever.”

Aiden reached his hand out and ran the back of his fingers up the smooth, slightly fuzzy surface of the leg nearest to him. Ambrose shuddered violently and let out a gasp of shock, eyes rolling closed. When Aiden repeated the gesture, a moan spilled from Ambrose’ lips, and it was the most seductive and delicious sound that Aiden had ever heard anyone make.  

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Ambrose, you… the sound you just made…”

“I’m sorry,” he panted, pink flushing his skin from collarbones all the way up to his ears. “That… That felt so good.”

“Has anyone ever touched you?”

Ambrose shook his head, his messy hair tumbling into his heavily lidded eyes.

The naga went very still and removed his fingers from the incredibly soft velvet at the ‘hip’ of Ambrose’ spider leg, where it joined his spider body. “Would you let me?” Aiden asked. “Would you let me make you feel good?”

Ambrose licked his lips and opened his glittering eyes. His pupils were huge in the dark, and he nodded slowly. “Please…”

“You want me to make you feel good?” Aiden asked again. “How far do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His pulse beat rapidly at his throat, but he looked determined. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

“Of course,” he said, and he couldn’t resist adding, “I know I’ve got two of them, but I’m not that much of a dick…”

Ambrose snorted, his lips hitching up on one side. “I barely have one, so…”

It was Aiden’s turn to be confused, and Ambrose’s turn to laugh.  

Ambrose blushed and giggled his way through a rapid-fire lesson in drider anatomy, and Aiden was suddenly very interested. “Male driders don’t really have a… you know… I mean we do, but it only really comes all the way out when it’s mating season. Mostly it just stays inside. Even if… you know…”  

“So wait, you’ve got a slit, or what?” he asked. “I mean, some male naga have both, so I’m cool with whatever you’ve got going on down there… but that’s… that’s kinda hot, you know?”

Ambrose’s answering blush was so pretty that Aiden felt his cocks stirring already, and the heat must have shown in his gaze because Ambrose’ blush only deepened when he realised. “You think…? I mean… You’re… You’re turned on by me?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Very much so.”

“And it’s not just curiosity?”

He shook his head. “Part of it is - I do like the idea of something new - but mostly it’s just you. You’re sweet and bashful, and you deserve to be praised and told how beautiful you are. I want to give that to you.”

A single tear rolled down Ambrose’s cheek. “Alright,” he said. “How… How do you want to do this?”

A little while later, Ambrose was on his back, and Aiden was trailing his claws down his incredibly soft and wildly sensitive underbelly. Ambrose jerked and twitched and bucked, crying out and biting the back of his hand as Aiden worked him all over, just getting him used to the sensation of being touched and, quite honestly, worshipped. Aiden noticed almost immediately that Ambrose was getting wet in a very particular place on his lower body, and when he ran his fingertips over it, he discovered a slit that was slick and warm and wet.  

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked huskily.  

Ambrose whimpered and nodded his assent. “Wait,” he gasped, and the naga halted. “Are you poisonous?” His words were slurred and weak, but he cracked one dark eye open and tried unsuccessfully to focus on Aiden through the pleasure of the touches he was still receiving from Aiden’s fingertips.  

The naga snorted, amused. “ ‘Venomous’ is the term you’re looking for, and no. No juice in these,” he said, flashing his canines. “Some of us are, but I’m not. Don’t worry.”  

And with that, Aiden leaned his weight against the curve of Ambrose’ body and cautiously lowered his mouth to taste him. Aiden’s long tongue lapped at him, finding him slightly sweet and a little salty, and he soon discovered Ambrose’s cock seated deep inside him. As he worked his tongue repeatedly along the length of it, sometimes managing to curl the long muscle almost all the way around Ambrose’s hidden cock, he felt the walls of the slit pulse almost rhythmically, and he knew that it would feel incredible to be inside him.  

When Aiden paused and voiced this aloud, Ambrose, who was quickly becoming a whining, mewling mess of limbs and heaving body, groaned, “Yes! Please…”

Aiden looked down the length of his own, scarlet red body, and bit his lip. Not only was the larger of his two cocks fully erect and weeping profusely, but the second, which usually only became fully erect during the naga’s heats, was also hard and slick. “Well, well,” he said. “Look what the sight of you like this has done to me,” he chuckled.

Ambrose managed to open his eyes with a flutter of long, dark lashes, and he smiled. “Beautiful,” he rasped. “I want you…”

Aiden shifted, coiling himself up so that he could slide easily into the slick heat of Ambrose’ sheath. The moment their cocks touched, he felt a jolt run right through him, and he gasped, clinging to Ambrose’ body. “Fuck,” he snarled. “Fuck, you’re perfect…”

Ambrose was beyond words at the sensations coursing through him.  

“I’ve never felt so full,” he managed to gasp a few minutes later after Aiden had begun to rock back and forth inside him. “I… I don’t think I’m… I’m going to…” he panted, his body convulsing and shaking with over stimulation beneath Aiden. “I -” and with a rush of heat beneath Aiden, the drider came.

Spurts of thick, hot come pulsed around Aiden’s two cocks, and the naga lost his rhythm and his control, coming with a gasp a second after Ambrose.  

Ambrose’ uninhibited yell of pleasure echoed off the walls of his home as he came, his body twitching and rocking with pleasure, while Aiden rammed his eyes shut, cocks buried inside him, and ground his teeth, gasping at the intensity of it. He had never come like this.  

It took a while for both of them to come back to their senses, and when they did, Aiden laughed nervously and slid free of Ambrose. “You alright?” he asked, voice hoarse.  

Ambrose nodded and tightened his skinny torso, abs clenching as he looked down his body to where his lower half was frankly a mess. “I think I might need to bathe tonight,” he said. Then, with a wicked glint in his eyes that Aiden would never have suspected from him, he added, “Unless you want to go again?”

“What have I unleashed?” he laughed.  

In fact, they did go again, twice more, before the dawn.  

As they were both tired and spent, washing clean in the freezing stream, Ambrose said quietly, “I think I will come with you.”

“What, you only want me for the sex now?” Aiden joked.  

Ambrose remained serious as he said, “No. I was thinking about it before. If you promise that you will help me… I’d like to come with you. I’d like to see something of the world.”

Aiden was not expecting his heart to react in the way it did, but he flashed Ambrose a wide grin. “Great,” he said. “I promise. You’re going to love it. I just know it.”

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#mlm #exophilia #naga #drider #arachnid #spider monster #monster x monster #male monster #writing commission

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Hurt ( Daryl Dixon Mini-Series )

Summary: You learnt very early that it wasn’t the dead you should fear, it was the living, especially the Saviours. It’s been six months since you managed to escape the Sanctuary with a little girl called Clementine. The two of you finding your old family farm, away from humanity. That was until you found a man named Daryl Dixon trying to hotwire one of your trucks. 

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: descriptions of blood, gut, physical injuries, slight reference to sexual assault, past abuse and child abuse (none of this written in detail) 

Chapter 4-

You woke a few hours later gasping for breath, your hair sticking to your face from sweat as you frantically kicked the blanket off your body and sat up on the couch. The images from your nightmare scorched into your mind as your body trembled. Your cheeks were wet as your heart pounded in your chest.

You had no trouble picturing the Sanctuary as Negan bashed your groups heads in with his bat one by one. Your friends all screaming at you to save them. You were they're leader. You were meant to protect them, but there was nothing you could do as Simon held you back and you had no choice but to watch them get bashed to death. 

You could still feel Simons rough fingers grasping your bare body when you and Clementine were locked in the closet at Sanctuary. The way his eyes scanned your body hungrily before he began undoing his belt.

You could still picture that tight leather dress Negan made you wear when you excepted his offer to be his wife. It was the only option you had if you wanted to keep Clem safe, but that never stopped Simon from showing up whenever Negan wasn't around.

You quickly stood up, shaking your head to try get forget about the nightmare. It's been nearly a year and you still had the same nightmares every single night. Was it ever going to stop? Or at least become less frequent?

"God damnit." You sighed quietly, rubbing your face with your hands before you grabbed the small lantern on the coffee table and turned it on so you could actually see what you were doing as you pulled on your boots.

You glanced at the clock on the wall realising it was roughly five in the morning and you sighed, knowing you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. So you grabbed the lantern and your recurve bow slinging it over your shoulders as well as your quiver of arrows before you walked into the kitchen.

You picked up the walkie talkie from the kitchen bench, clipping it onto your belt beside your knife in case Clementine needed you as you opened the top draw and pulled out a flashlight before you walked towards the front door. You grabbed your cowgirl hat from the hook beside the door on your way out, placing the hat on top of your head as you took a deep breath of the cool morning air.

It was still pitch black outside the moon barely a sliver in the starry night sky as you turned the torch on and began walking down the porch steps. You had no idea where you were going, it was too dark to go out hunting and even you weren't stupid enough to go outside the property fence at night, it was too dangerous.

So you just walked around the property, the flashlight in one hand and the other resting on your bow over your shoulder. Walking always cleared your mind, whether it was outside in the woods hunting or just walking around the property, it always seemed to calm you down.

-

The sun was shining by the time you went back inside and a glance towards the clock on the wall indicated that you were walking around outside for two hours. You sighed walking into the kitchen, dropping your bow and quiver on the bench before you began making breakfast.

Clementine hadn't thrown up since last night so you were hoping that she got all of it up and was on the mend from the cold. The poor girl hadn't been outside in a few days, she's probably itching to get some fresh air, but you knew she needed to rest.

"Thought ya said ya were sleepin' in the spare room?" Daryl muttered from behind you causing you to jump as you turned around to find him leaning against the kitchen bench, his eyes focused on the blanket and pillow on the couch in the lounge room. He looked a lot better already, his skin wasn't as a pale and he seemed to be standing up straighter and not so slouched, like he was when he first showed up last night. But you supposed after some food, water, a shower and a decent nights sleep helped a lot.

"Yeah, I lied. I don't have a spare room." You answered, turning back towards the kitchen bench as you finished cooking the rice. You drained the water and added a few handfuls of corn, peas and chopped up carrot into the saucepan, mixing it all together a few times before pouring it into three bowls. You placed one bowl in the fridge for Clementine later if she was hungry as you grabbed two spoons from the top draw and put them in the remaining two bowls.

"I should've slept on the couch, Rabbit." Daryl stated as you turned back around to him, his eyes glued to you as you handed him one of the bowls.

"You've been in that closet at Sanctuary for God knows how long. Trust me, you needed that bed more than I did. Now, lets go sit outside, its a nice day." You answered, not waiting for him to reply as you stepped passed him and walked back outside.

Neither of you spoke for a while, both sitting on the porch steps eating the bowls of rice. The steps weren't that long, so the two of you were almost sitting shoulder to shoulder, but neither of you seemed to mind.

"Ya warned me 'bout the Saviours all those months ago... How'd ya know about the Saviours?" Daryl finally asked as he placed his now empty bowl on porch behind him before glancing over at you. It was only a matter of time before he asked that question. You were expecting him to ask it last night when he was telling about what the Saviours, but he wasn't himself last night, he wasn't thinking straight after what he would have went through and you didn't blame him.

"Remember when I told you about the people who slaughtered my group and took Clem and I back to their home? That was the Saviours." You explained, not wanting to talk about further as you looked away from the blue eyed archer.

"Wait..." Daryl trailed off and you could tell by the tone in his voice that he was trying to remember or think of something. "You're the Y/N Negan always spoke 'bout, aren't ya? He was always talkin' 'bout this one wife that wasn't like the rest, until she ran away and he never managed to find her... was that you?"

"Yeah, it was. I know what you would have went through at the Sanctuary, I-" You began to say before Daryl suddenly stood up from the steps, cutting you off.

"Ya don't know shit." He growled, staring at you in way you had never seen before as he stood a few metres in front of you. You knew you should probably feel intimidated and scared by his sudden outburst and tense posture, but you were more confused than anything.

"Excuse me?" You questioned, staring at the man who only 12 hours ago was standing in front of your house weak and vulnerable.

"Ya were one of his damn wives. Ya don't know nothin' 'bout what I went through. Ya lived in damn luxury by Negan's side!" He shouted, throwing his arms in the air in frustration as you shook your head, your confusion quickly turning into anger.

"Who the hell are you to judge me? You don't know what I went through at the Sanctuary!" You responded, trying to keep your voice low since Clementine was still asleep inside.

"I can take a pretty damn good guess." Daryl muttered, and that was it. You quickly stood up from the steps so you were no longer looking up at Daryl as you stood a few metres away from him.

"Really? Would you have guessed that they threw Clementine and I into a closet? Stripped us both naked and locked us in the dark? That they wouldn't give us anything other than a cup of water and a slice of moly bread a day?" You shouted, glaring at him and you noticed his expression suddenly softened as guilt flashed across his face, but you weren't finished yet. "I tried to keep her safe, it was all about keeping Clementine safe. But, Simon... he'd try get to her, said he had a thing for little girls, but I wouldn't let him touch her and it cost me. The beatings I could handle, hell I wished for them sometimes because it was better than the alternative. Then after a few weeks Negan gave me an offer to be his wife, saying it was the only way to keep Clementine safe... So I said yes."

"Rabbit-" Daryl began to say softly, but you cut him off.

"We tried escaping once, Clementine had a bobby pin in her hair and I managed to pick the lock. We barely made it 20 metres before Simon found us. Said that he should kill the kid for what we tried to do, so he made me choose. It was either Clementine died or he gave me the iron." You began to explain and by the shocked look on Daryl's face he must have known what the iron was, so you continued talking.

"Most people got the iron against the side of their face like Dwight, but Simon didn't want to ruin 'my pretty little face' so he improvised." You explained as you took a step back and lifted up your shirt exposing the large iron shaped burn scar over the right side of your stomach.

You saw Daryl visibly tense when he his eyes landed on the very distinct rough burn mark. It didn't heal properly, the stupid doctor at the Sanctuary barely bandaged it up, let alone properly cleaning it.

God, you hated doctors before the world turned to shit, but now it was just a whole new level. The days you spent on that damn hospital bed sick as dog because of how infected the burn was and of course Simon took advantage of your vulnerability, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was not being able to see Clementine for nearly four days, although Sherry and a few other wives took care of her and didn't let any of the Saviours near her and for that you were grateful.  

"Yes, I was one of Negan's wives. But my time at the Sanctuary was far from luxurious." You sighed, pushing your shirt back down as you rubbed your face with your hands getting rid of any evidence that tears were in your eyes. You looked back over at Daryl who was staring at you in a mixture of shock and sorrow. "Do what you want with that information, I'm gonna go let the animals out the stables. You're still recovering and you need to rest, go sit down." You said, nodding back towards the front door before you began walking off in the direction of the stables, not giving him a chance to reply.

-

He shouldn't have said any of that. He shouldn't have assumed anything about her. He knew better than that, but the thought of her by Negan's side made him see red and he didn't even realise how rude and arrogant he had been until she snapped at him. He deserved it, he deserved a lot more than her just yelling at him, but a part of him knew that you would never hurt him. It was weird how comfortable he felt around you, despite still barely knowing you. He had let his walls down for you, he let you in without a second thought and it scared the shit out of him.

But what you had said about the Saviours, about what you had went through... He knew what it was like inside that dark closet stripped of your clothes with that same stupid song playing on repeat, you never said anything about the song, but he suspected that you didn't tell him everything about what you went through. He knew what it was like to only be fed a small amount of water and mouldy bread, he knew what it was like to receive countless of beatings from the Saviours.

But, the stuff Simon had done to her... you didn't go into detail about it, you barely said anything about it, but Daryl knew where it was going. He didn't need you to explain any further to know that Simon had done things to you, bad things.

Daryl remembered how brave and strong you were when he first met you, but he also noticed the little things like how you'd flinch away at human contact or tense up whenever a voice was raised. He just assumed that you had been through some shit like they all had. He knew he was a bit skittish when it came to human contact from all the beatings his old man used to give him, stuff like that stayed with you, even during the apocalypse. But now he realised the story behind you and he hoped like hell that you'd never have to go through something like that again.

He had watched you walk off towards the stables, deep in his own mind that he never heard Clementine open the front door of the house until he turned around to go back inside and nearly walked right into the young girl.

"Sorry, kid. Didn't see ya there." Daryl quickly apologised as she jumped back to avoid crashing into him.

"My fault, I shouldn't have been eavesdropping." The young girl admitted with a sheepish smile as the two of them began walking back into the house. She was still in what Daryl assumed was her pyjamas, she was in pink pants with white stars and a matching button down long sleeved shirt, it definitely looked like pyjamas. She must have only just woken up, Y/N did say she was sick yesterday.

"Ya heard all that?" He asked, not really sure if Y/N wanted the girl to hear everything she had said, but it was a bit late now.

"Yeah." Clementine sighed, walking over to the couch as she sat down on the single seater while Daryl sat down on the three seater where you had slept for the night, pushing the blanket down the other end of the couch where your pillow was.

"Y/N protected me at the Sanctuary. She always protects me. She gave me the blanket Simon threw in our closet when we were naked, so I could cover myself up, she gave me most of her food and water. She would stand in front of me every time that door opened so the Saviours couldn't see or get to me. The worst thing I got was a slap across my face when I tried stopping Simon from burning her with the iron... But Y/N got a more than a slap, even if she hadn't done anything wrong..." Clementine explained as she fiddled with the loose thread of her pyjama shirt and Daryl's heart ached for the little girl. She was just a kid, she shouldn't have had to see all of this, let alone go through it.

"None of that was your fault, ya know that right? Y/N would have done anythin' to protect ya, she didn't care about the consequences." Daryl replied and although you had never said that to him, he knew it was true. He saw how protective you were of the young girl when he first came to the farm as a complete stranger and he knew she wasn't your daughter, but you sure did treat her like family.

"Yeah, I know. But, I don't want Y/N having to protect me all the time, she's starting to teach me some self defence skills and she's already taught me how to shoot a gun and a bow. Soon I'll be able to protect myself too." The young girl said and Daryl couldn't help the slight twitch in his lips at how proud the girl sounded. She was definitely going to grow up into one strong independent woman, that was for sure.

"I didn't think you would come back. Were you taken by the Saviours too?" She asked after a few minutes of silence and Daryl simply nodded, not really knowing what to say to that and he didn't really want to think about it. "I'm sorry."

"S'alright. Weren't ya sick yesterday? How ya feelin'?"

"Better. Y/N gave me some medicine last night, my tummy doesn't hurt anymore." She answered and Daryl was relieved with that, the last thing that poor girl needed was a bad cold or flu.

"Y/N made breakfast earlier, want me to heat it up for ya?" He asked, glancing over at her on the other couch as she nodded before he got up off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen.

He saw you put a spare bowl in the fridge and he could hear the generator running from outside so he popped the bowl into the microwave to heat the rice up. After mixing it a few times to make sure all of it was heated, he managed to find a spoon after open countless of draws in the process before he walked back into the lounge room.

He gave her the bowl, warning her that it might be a bit hot as he grabbed Y/N's blanket and wrapped it around Clem, noticing she was shivering slightly before he sat back down on the other couch.

A few minutes later you finally walked back inside, but you stopped when you noticed Clementine awake, wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the couch eating breakfast. You caught sight of Daryl sitting on the other couch, already looking in your direction and you realised that he must have gotten her the blanket and food as you smiled softly mouthing 'thank you' to him and he just nodded.

"Feeling better, sweetie?" You asked, walking into the lounge room as she nodded and you sighed with relief. Looks like the worst of her cold was over with. "That's good, just take it easy today."

"So no hunting?" Clementine asked sadly and you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Not today, maybe tomorrow I'll take you out." You replied as she nodded before continuing with her breakfast. "What's your plan? Saviours have your community on a leash, you going to go back?"

"I have to, I ain't leavin' 'em. Rick'll have a plan, they'll be plannin' on fightin' the Saviours." Daryl replied as you sat down on the couch beside him. "We don't have guns no more, but we met another community, so we might be able to fight together." He explained, staring at the coffee table as he spoke and you knew he felt bad about what he said earlier.

"Good, the Saviours need to be stopped." You replied as Daryl stood up from the couch. "Wait, no, you aren't leaving yet. You're still recovering, stay for one more night." You replied, as Daryl glanced down at you with a shake of his head. "Daryl, hey, you won't be any use to your friends and family if you're still recovering."

"I know, but you've done enough for me already." He replied, but you shook your head as you grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the couch. "What are ya doin'?"

"You're staying here and it isn't up for discussion." You replied sternly and Daryl sighed, looking over at you through his hair.

"It's not up for discussion." Clementine repeated and you both glanced across the room at the young girl who was smiling at both you and you heard Daryl chuckle slightly.

"Alright, I ain't gonna win this argument am I?" He asked, glancing between the two of you with an amused expression.

"Nope." You and Clementine both replied at the same time causing the young girl to giggle, making you and Daryl smile as well.

"Do ya still have that map I gave ya?" Daryl asked after a few seconds of silence, catching you off guard slightly and you nodded.

"Yeah, why?" You questioned, glancing over at the archer as he reached for the pen on top of the coffee table.

"That other community I said earlier, I'll mark it on the map. It's a bit closer than Alexandria and although the leader is a dick, if you need to go there, ask for Jesus... it's a nickname, but ask for him and tell him that you know me." Daryl explained as you grabbed the map that you kept folded up on the kitchen bench before walking back into the lounge room and handing it to him.

"That's a strange nickname, but thank you." You replied, half shocked that there was another community near by, but relieved that Daryl knew them. If one of their people happened to find this place you'll be able to tell them that you knew Daryl and that you weren't a threat and hopefully they'd believe you.

"It's around this area, kinda on top of a hill. Ya can't miss it." Daryl informer as he circled a small section on the map, naming it Hilltop just like he had done all those months ago when he wrote Alexandria.

So much had changed for him during those past six months, his life would have been turned completely upside when the Saviours found them. But for you and Clementine, nothing had changed in those six months. God, you hoped like hell that Daryl and his friends could take out the Saviours... maybe then you might talk to Clementine about checking out Alexandria maybe? Daryl seemed to want you there and you knew eventually this farm would fall. It didn't have high steel walls, it just had tall paddock fences lining the property, a large herd could easily push through and bust the fences if they wanted to and then what were you going to do?

"Thank you, seriously thank you. It's good to know there's somewhere we can go if this place falls." You replied as Daryl handed you the map, your fingers brushing over his as you grabbed it, staring at the location of the community which seemed to be only a 20 minutes ride from the farm.

"Ya don't need a reason to come to Alexandria, ya know that, right?" Daryl asked, glancing up at you through his long hair and you nodded. But there was no way you'd go there when the Saviours were around, no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't put Clementine in danger like that.

-

NEXT CHAPTER

-

A/N: Tumblr is being annoying and not showing posts with tags and links with them so I will reblog this with my tag list and the link to my Masterlist is in my bio for all my other Daryl Dixon fics 

Sorry this update took forever, but I hope you guys are enjoying this fic and I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Until next time stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #The Walking Dead #Asexual Reader #twdg clementine #twd #twd fanfiction #twd masterlist #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction

[sweetsmellosuccess]

The Best (and Worst) Films of 2019

In many ways, 2019 served as a crucible, and no more so, at least cinematically, than with the venerable superhero flick. After a deluge of big studio films on the subject of capes and spandex (the MCU includes 22 films since the 2008 release of Iron Man; the nascent DCU, running it fits and starts has seven), we saw the explosive close-out of the previous “phases” with Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame; as well as the rise of pseudo art-house comic book film, Joker, in the same bloody year.

The talk on Film Twitter  —  the living definition of ‘tempest in a teacup’ —  was all about those films, and Martin Scorsese’s now legendary take down of the genre by referring to the super hero films, collectively, as  “theme parks.” But in truth, there were many, many other films that came out during the year, some of them utterly brilliant, some of them ridiculously awful. Here are my picks for both, with some of what I wrote about them at the time in my review.

10. Avengers: Endgame

“There are so many small but noteworthy details -- opening the film with Traffic's "Dear Mr. Fantasy"; the name drops, and special shout-outs to comics' fans; the small character beats that allow each protagonist more than just a quip or two; the closing credits, which give singular notice to the stars who have been there from the beginning, and wisely do not use the signature Marvel trick of teasing out the next film, which gives the series, at last, a sense of real closure, if only temporary -- the film feels as if it has been created and calibrated with the utmost care. For a film destined to break the bank no matter how shoddy they might have made it, Marvel has poured enough genuine soul into it to earn its inevitable bounty.”

Full Review

9. Her Smell

“In some ways, the film takes on a sort of Raging Bull aspect, Martin Scorsese's classic film about a boxer's rise and fall, only to turn the ending on its head. In Scorsese's picture, we see Jake LaMotta, now fat and retired, attempt to break into showbiz as a comedian, the scenes draped in cutting sardonicism. Perry gives Becky a much less punishingly ironic turn, but instead a hero's journey, venturing away from the abyss into something a good deal less grandiose and realized.”

Full Review

8. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

“It's also a film about the versions of the stories whose ideas lend depth and valor to our otherwise nondescript lives, the things we hope make us the heroes of our own narratives. In this way, Jimmie's story is conflated with that of the city itself, and the palpable sense of loss he feels about his family's house is mirrored in the city's own loss of identity.”

Full Review

7. Under the Silver Lake

“Mitchell fairly stuffs the film with portents, symbols, and runes, some real, some imagined. Squirrels mysteriously fall dead at Sam's feet, a parrot in his courtyard keeps calling out something he can't decipher, a dog killer stalks the neighborhood, and graffiti strewn about the area calls out to him. Films are always encoded with symbolic meaning, utilizing visual language to instill emotion and establish significance for the audience (think of Spielberg's girl with the red coat in Schindler's List, or James Dean's red windbreaker in Rebel Without a Cause), Mitchell's film gives us so many options, almost everything can be read symbolically, which perfectly captures the paranoia his character feels, and the pointlessness of trying to make sense of it at all.”

Full Review

6. Marriage Story

“Noah Baumbach’s latest film, about the dissolution of married couple – played extraordinarily well by Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson – will no doubt get comparisons made to Bergman’s brilliant Scenes From a Marriage. But whereas that 1972 film concerned the relationship itself, its highs and lows and metamorphoses, Baumbach’s film is much more about the logistics, legal and otherwise, of ending a very much shared life together.”

Capsule Review

5. Midsommar

“Viewing Aster's films is a bit like walking into an art installation -- quite literally, as he populates his frame with stunning compositions and art-focused mise en scene, as with the beautifully designed wooden structures of the compound, or the exquisite murals and art displayed on the building's walls (a huge shout-out to his production designer, Henrik Svensson, and the art directing crew) -- but, as with Hereditary, behind all the sumptuous, hand-crafted beauty, there is a cruel, brutal core of humanity's continued savagery. If art represents the best sort of impulses of humankind, in Aster's hands, it becomes yet another facade, hiding -- or in this case, exemplifying -- our instinct for vicious barbarity.”

Full Review

4. Parasite

“By the end, as it swerves inexorably into blood-soaked violence, the film reveals to be a bit of a con itself, drawing us in with its enticing humor, then opening up into a much darker vision, before ending on an emotional note of surprising vulnerability. Through it all, Bong shows a mastery of odd tones, from the opening comedic salvo, to the final emotional beats.”

Capsule Review

3. Uncut Gems

“It’s one of those pressure-cooker films, where the steam builds more and more intense as Howard gets in and out of trouble through his ability to constantly shift the playing board. There’s a scene about midway through, with various aggrieved characters coalescing at once in his office, as he’s trying to have a speaker phone conversation with his doctor, that’s so stressful, you will want to avert your eyes and remind yourself of the exit signs.”

Capsule Review

2. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

“It's also an unexpected joy to watch the nonchalant swagger of Pitt match up with DiCaprio's more high-strung ministrations. Two of the biggest film stars alive playing mostly washed up TV actors may stack the irony, but both of them settle in so well into their characters, you can't help but admire the result. Rick is a dude whose ego has gone from tumescent to shriveled -- he parks his car miserably in front of one of his own old movie posters -- but beneath all his hubris and despair, he actually has a lot of talent. As always, it's pure joy to watch Pitt smoke up a screen, a middle-aged Redford speaking every line with a sinfully breezy smile, whose confidence extends around him like the golden hue of his deep suntan.”

Full Review

1. Knives Out

“More than the plot itself, an ingenious and kinetic thing that's as satisfying as a hot bowl of soup on a raw and windy day, there's the sense of joyous chaos from the cast. Those scenes where the family is all together, in the drawing room and continually at each other's throats are so delicious, they should come with a napkin. The interplay between vets like Shannon, Johnson, Curtis and Collette is filled with fractious energy, the characters revisiting age-old disagreements ("Your kid's a brat!" -- "Your kid is a Nazi!") with sadistic glee. Even when they band together, in moments, against what they believe to be a common enemy, it's clear the harmony between them is more Iggy and the Stooges than Beach Boys. In short, Johnson has devised a perfect ensemble of dreadful characters and set them all against one another in a narrative fishbowl filled with lye.”

Full Review

Other Worthy Mentions:

Amazing Grace, American Factory, Apollo 11, Bacurau, Birds of Passage, Charlie Says, Cold Case Hammarskjöld, Dark Suns, Dark Waters, Ford v Ferrari, Greener Grass, In Fabric, John Wick 3, Jojo Rabbit, Luce, Midnight Traveler, Ms. Purple, Pain and Glory, Rewind, Something Else, Terminator: Dark Fate, The Farewell, The Hole in the Ground, The Irishman, The Lighthouse, The Nightingale, The Report, The Souvenir, The Vast of Night, This is Not Berlin, Us, Varda by Agnes, Vitalina Varella

Best Upcoming Releases of 2019

The Personal History of David Copperfield

The Burnt Orange Heresy

Bad Education

First Cow

The Worst Films of 2019

5. Greta

“In short, Jordan turns Greta into a Michael Myers-esque boogeyman, everywhere and no place at once, almost a phantom, but for her high heels and French condemnation. In this way, the filmmaker loses his grip on his material.”

Full Review

4. Ma

“Apart from a truly absurd script, director Tate Taylor's film performs ungainly political gyrations -- asking us to root against a survivor of sexual abuse and humiliation for trying to gain (albeit misplaced) revenge on her attacker. Sort of a rape-revenge thriller set upside down, such that nothing makes any ethical (or emotional) sense. It quickly becomes an awkward mishmash of impulses, wanting to provide cheap scares while fostering a deeply schizoid sense of sympathy, while managing to fail mightily at both.”

Full Review

3. The Dead Don’t Die

“Jarmusch's proclivities have always leaned toward such lightly affecting material -- as if the act of actually generating emotion is somehow vulgar and unseemly -- which has also endeared him to his faction of fans. For everyone else, though, it doesn't leave much to look at. Filmed without fanfare (albeit with a few more special effects than usual, and a kind of cool splattering of sand-like mist when the zombies are beheaded), and with the intensity knobs all turned down to their lowest setting, he continues his sous vide-style of filmmaking. Whether you like the dish he's serving, or want to throw your hands in the air and go somewhere else for dinner is all in your temperament. Whatever you choose, you can be certain the same menu will be available the next time you venture back.”

Full Review

2. Dark Phoenix

“The clearest loss, however, is with the story itself -- its legacy struck deep in Marvel lore -- once again being studio nitpicked, and focus-grouped to within an inch of its life. If Endgame audaciously proved a superhero movie could rise toward an emotionally satisfying arc, this failed attempt proves the opposite is also true: Chronic incoherence, even if spread out among a multitude of titles over 20 years, just feels like a soulless money grab. Adding to the sense of this film's slapdashery, the trailer features lines and moments unused in the actual cut, which is never a good sign.”

Full Review

1. Lucy in the Sky

“The film is meandering and pretty much pointless, a major flaw that Hawley himself indicated in his introduction (“we work as hard on the bad ones as we do the good ones,” he told the audience in an example of supreme foreshadowing. Portman does her best, but the film sputters pretty hard, and is never able to justify itself.”

Capsule Review

Other Dishonorable Entries:

The Aftermath, The Curse of La Llorona, Gemini Man, Glass, Hellboy, Joker

Inexplicably Overrated: Joker, The Dead Don’t Die

Biggest Welcome Surprise(s): Ford v Ferrari, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Most Bitter Disappointment(s): The Lodge, Wounds

Film That Critics Got Wrong: Waves

Best Film I Saw Last Year, Period: Scenes From a Marriage

#sweet smell of success #ssos #piers marchant #films #movies #the best and worst films of 2019 #knives out #parasite #once upon a time in hollywood #uncut gems #marriage story #the last black man in san francisco #midsommar #avengers: endgame #under the sliver lake #her smell

[mar-bluu]

Just finished my 2nd day of work experience :)

It was strange but i loved it! Sorry this is so long :p Some high points over the 2 days:

Day 1!

Very nervous!

Very very nervous!

Got there at 8 and knocked on the door which a really nice guy opened for me and let me in

We introduced ourselves amd he told me his name was S, then he showed me the break room where i put my stuff away

Met K! Shes very nice and i helped cleaned out the puppy room while she did the kittens

Was then sent upstairs to cut up some fruit for the birds and guinea pigs

Fed the quails and budgies, then moved onto the cockatiels and other birds

Two of the alexandrines loved the apple and carrot, while the other two (in a different area) didnt want to eat unless i hand fed them (i slowly moved it to the bowl where they shared a slice of apple and aah!! 💖)

I annoyed the sun conures cause i went to feed them but they were climbing on the door so i couldnt open it properly, so i moved onto the other birds. They screamed at me for a while after that

Gave the guinea pigs some orange and saved a few slices for the two upstairs and are sick/unhappy :(

Washed up the bowl

Restocked the birb toys!! Very cool and made out of thicc sticcs and pinecones

Restocked chicken mince and dog bones

Went to the freezer, didn't find chicken mince, did find yoko, a bearded dragon in a freezer bag with the frozen rabbits/mice. Bag said "Yoko, passed after laying eggs :(" made me very sad

Did see Yoko's enclosure-mate who was sunning on a rock just vibing. Made me less sad

Eventually found chicken mince, but no bones

There was another employee who really scared me

Like a lot

Literally for no reason! He just makes me super super nervous

I think it might be because he looked very vaguely like this guy at school who also scares me (also for no reason, we talked once and he was super nice but he still scares me)

Anyway i did algae wipes on the plant tanks but also was super nervous and when i was done, couldn't see S and didn't wanna annoy the other employees so i just kept redoing them, like 6 times

Eventually found S who got me to clean the fish tank lids

The glass fishtank lids

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Other dude had hoses running that went through where i was so the whole time i was going "dont drop the glass, dont drop the glass, dont drop the glass, do not drop the glass, please please dont drop the glass

Did about 4 lids then it was time to go

All in all a pretty good day maybe a 7/10 :p

Day 2!

Got there just before 8, still nervous

K let me in and we put our stuff away upstairs

Met A!

A was a little sick but also super kind, made me a little less nervous

I cleaned out the kittens room while she did the puppers

One pupper was super loud and attention seeking so i stopped and said hi everytime i passed

Kinda felt bad that i kept asking A questions cause i could tell she was close to losing her voice

Finished up just as the store opened

Vacuumed the store

Felt bad while vacuuming near the birbs and guinea pigs cause they didnt like the vacuum but it was very very dirty so i spent quite a bit of time there

Would do one spot then turn around to see a more feathers and sunflowet seed casings (i have a feeling that the sun conures were still upset)

That took quite a while and there were still more feathers!!!!!!!!

Anyway K asked me to wash the outside of the puppy and kitten windows

That took about 20 minutes (smol kiddos kept touching the cleaned glass >:( ah well :/ )

I asked K if i needed to do anything else and she said to ask D (manager(?)) If he had anything, and if not i could,,,,,,, b r ush the kitten s

:O

Ho ly hecc ye!!

Put the bucket/cloth/water away and asked D, he had nothing

Y E S

KI TTE N S

K gave me a brush and the guy who kinda scares me asked if i knew the code to get into the room, A told me before so i was good

But not for long

It was only 4 digits long and i knew the numbers but then forgot the order

I tried every possible order but nothing worked

I went back to the counter and asked again "the code? oh it's 1234"

Okay! I go back to the door "the code? oh it's 1uwje82k"

F r i c k

As im standing there hoping that this door will magically open for me, cause if i ask 3 times uhh I'll die ?

A and other scary dude were walking past and i tried to make eye contact with A and silently ask for help

But A wasnt looking, however, other dude was!

He came over and opened the door for me and had like a 10 second convo

Anyway he seems super heccin chill and nice but still scares me

Anyway

K i tt ies!

I went into their room and said hi then sat down with the brush

I will be honest, i was expecting some resistance whether it was playful, or frightened of the brush, or wriggly

What i did not expect was to be attacked by a fluffy blanket of pure anger

I named them the Shoe Siblings

There were 6, all with names from me

KL (knee licker), Panic Attack (a poor scared bby with HUGE eyes), Rat (just an asshole), Gentle Giant (big boi ! Thought he was most energetic, but was a good boi!) Mini M (Mini marshmallow, the tiniest bitch! Looks like a toasted marshmallow), and BWB (Black and White Bastard, stupid bitch, annoying, a pain, wishes only to cause pain, i love him) theyre all ragdoll kittens)

Literally no matter WHAT i did, i couldn't brush them

They tried to eat the brush so m an y t i me s

Attacked my fingers

"Please get off my shoe"

Play fighting each other and me

Let me do 1 brush stroke before turning around and chewing on the bristles

I let them smell the brush and my hands so i didn't freak them out

"No, thats not for kitty consumption"

Ate my shoes, ate my ankles, ate my arm, ate my shirt, ate my back

I COULD N O T BRUSH THEM! At all!!

"Leave my shoes alone please"

BWB was the WORST!

He bit onto my shoe grabbed the top and r a k e d his legs across the bottoms again and again and again, trying to tear them to shreds! Scratched the shit put of my arms too

I tried to get Mini M over by gently patting on my leg

THIS BITCH

Swung at my hand and stabbed my finger! I bled a lot, but I was fine

Panic Attack ate the fur that i had managed to brush off

KL and Rat wrapped around my leg in a ball of fury

BWB actually crawled into my lap and curl up into a ball, 'aww,' i think, 'he's giving me a hug! Maybe he feels bad'

Nope

This bitch was eating my pants >:(

Anyway another 30 mins later i was rescued by me being able to leave

(The cats were v cute tho)

And thats it :) thanks!

#it was actually a lot of fun #and dude who kinda scares me #im really sorry #you seem really cool actually #also my fave kitty was gentle giant #his meow was so #s o m f t #and his eyes #so blue!! #such a gorgeous boi! #sorry bout this tho #i rambled a lot #like #a lot a lot #long post #anyway have a good day!! :)

[crimsxnflxwerz]

Like the Dawn - Chapter 5

chapter 5 - waste years with you notes - this chapter is barely edited. also you wont believe it, but i’ve had this mostly written since july !!!! sorry about that LOL Archive Link

Ryan woke for work at 5:30 am after a blissfully dreamless sleep. It hadn't been very long, but it was more replenishing than when he was having nightmares about drowning and fever dreams about the Gods.

He left for work, preparing himself for another busy day. He was new to the company where he worked and didn't know many people there. For the most part, he didn't do much of anything, as it was a starter job. He ran around, got people coffee, filed paperwork, the likes. There were a few people there who he enjoyed, though. A designer named Steven, a chef and video editor named Andrew, and a photographer named Adam. Out of those three Andrew was his favorite. Funny, full of stories, great cook. Adam was cool, too. Soft spoken, but when he did say something it was worth listening to. Steven was the most argumentative of the group, but intriguing. He could talk or debate with the man for quite a while on the right subject. Steven also always offered to help him look his best. Ryan was always tempted to take him up on that.

After his daily work duties were done he found himself some nice corner to work on editing his film into a nice video for his channel. He wrote out in a journal what he was planning to say in his voice over later as he edited. In this segment he would point out some interesting species of plants. And in this part he would talk about a childhood memory of a different forest.

Editing videos like this really put him in a different mindset. He was born and raised in the city, but he had family that lived in the wilderness. As soon as he was ten he was being carted off into the uncharted lands of Oregon every summer to spend some quality time with his grandparents. He remembers those times with the clarity of muddy water. When his dysphoria was at its peak he could run off into the thicket of trees behind his grandparents house and disappear for hours, his only company the dew damp trees and the skittish rabbits.

In those woods he met many creatures and critters. His favorite, by far, were the fauns. There were plenty of deer all over the country, but in the deep woods, where all you can see are giant, looming trees and long, untamed grass, they were almost like an entirely new animal. They were gentle, making soft, curious noises whenever he came around. They would bow their heads to sniff around his feet and push their snouts into his palm like dogs begging for a treat.

Nature had always been a huge part of his personality. He cared for stray cats, nursed injured birds back to health, helped foxes get free from hunting traps. He cared for animals like snakes and rats as much as he cared for more enjoyable animals. He respected nature, and it respected him in return.

He didn't know why it was like that, but it was as normal as anything else. At the best of times it was a cool party trick. At the worst it was a minor inconvenience.

As he looked through more content, he eventually came to the footage of him running into Shane. He went to delete it, because that was the obvious thing to do, but something made him pause. He had kept his camera running when he'd run face first into the man, and he happened to catch a full shot of his face. It was blurry, but it was there. And there was something strange about it. He played the video back and saw it again. For a moment, not even a full second, Shane's eyes were gold.

He remembered that moment very clearly. The heat of Shane's body and the crunch of the leaves and the rush of air being knocked from his lungs. The sun was out, but from where Shane was standing, he had been cast in shadow. Ryan knew that in certain types of brown eyes, the sunlight could make them look gold, but that wasn't what was happening. Through the whole shot, the area was dark. How could his eyes be gold?

Unless his dreams were real. And he was the reincarnation of Persephone. And Shane was Hades, come from the Underworld in search of his queen.

Except that, that… was crazy. Gods weren't real. The gold must've been a lens flare or something. Although, he couldn't shake the feeling that something more was going on here. He cut the footage from his video, but saved it in a separate folder anyways.

Maybe the sleep deprivation was finally getting to him. Maybe he needed a drink. He wondered if any of his old college buddies wanted to go out tonight.

Or-- he could meet Shane at the Seashell.

It was Friday, he would be there, right? This could be his chance to meet him for real, have a friendly conversation with him, and maybe even figure this all out. But maybe, there wasn't anything to figure out. What if he just had an overactive imagination lately? Maybe he shouldn't have stopped seeing that therapist.

Either way, he was going to go to the Seashell. He would talk to Shane, have a good time, and get his number. He jotted down some final notes for his video and tucked his journal away before his manager came over and scolded him again.

You can do this, Ryan, he thought. It's just some fun. He’s just a guy.

After Shane had gotten the gang all set up in a hotel room with human identities, he couldn't go back to sleep. He was too jittery to try, so he cooked up some oatmeal and brewed a pot of coffee and brought out a notepad.

He jotted down some things for his staff to do for the day and brought out his sage burning bowl from the cupboard. Sara had gotten it for him when she noticed that he tended to get stressed out easily. He didn't really use it often, except to send notes to the underworld. He brought out a set of matches and struck one against the box. It lit up and he used it to burn the note, whispering the names of his servants as he did so. Maybe it was lazy, but it was faster than going back down. It helped him stay above the memories in his home.

After the paper was completely ash, Shane tossed the remains in the trash and put the bowl in the sink. Then he lit two candles and grabbed the cinnamon for his oatmeal. Once he was finally settled, he looked out the window to see that the sun was just starting to break the dark horizon. It was dawn. Dawn, something he never got to see in the underworld. Down below the horizon was a constant white to black gradient. Ominous and cold over the dark waters of Styx.

Overworld sunrises were completely different. When the sun is still settled behind the trees, you can see the sky start to lighten. From navy blue, to purple, to pink. Breaking the treeline brings more intense colors. Orange, red, and gold. It was gorgeous. He wondered how many humans truly appreciated how wonderful their world was. Although, it wasn't as if he were pure of that misfortune.

Shane sighed, turning his oatmeal in the bowl, suddenly feeling a bit too forlorn. His appetite vanished. He shook his head. He couldn't think like that now. Couldn't fall back into pointless misery.

He needed to come up with a plan before the other God's come back around. That group would be the death of him, he knew it. He didn't have any leads right now, though. However, something that Eugene said stuck to him. A thorn in his side, digging under his skin.

‘Or prince’.

Shane hadn't even considered that at all. Because of this oversight, he could have overlooked Persephone a thousand times over. In fact, as his mind started to wander back, he could recall some men in past generations that seemed to call to him- but at the time he'd ignored them. As ignorant as that sounded, he was simply too blinded by grief to think straight.

With this new information, Shane filed through all the possible men who could be Persephone. He wondered if any physical characteristics would carry over? Like her dark hair, or the dusting of freckles over her nose, or the petal-soft curve of her lips.

He didn't care too much about her body, but it would help him find her if she looked the same- or similar.

He racked his brain for some list of men he's met since coming to the overworld this time. It was dramatically shorter than the list of women, but maybe there was something to that. Maybe there was someone who would stand out from the rest…

Then it clicked.

Ryan .

Shane was on the edge of panic. He had missed a huge component of searching just because he was too stupid to think about it at all. The worst part was being reminded of this essential element via a God he didn’t like or want to associate with. He couldn’t deny, however, that if Eugene had never come up and suggested that, he would still be searching endlessly for women alone. To say he felt embarrassed was an understatement. He was supposed to be part of the big three. He was supposed to be… perceptive at the least.

But now he found himself right where he wanted to be the least. Last night he’d found the gang a hotel to stay at since it was too late to properly purchase any apartment. It was one of the cheaper chains, but still nice because of the area. He had just wanted to get them out his hair for the moment. They probably already knew he was there. He took a sharp breath in and walked into the hotel.

As he entered the lobby, he was distracted by the savory food smell. Oh yes, this hotel served breakfast until 11am. Although the Gods didn't need to eat to survive for the first few weeks in their human form, they greatly enjoyed doing so. Humans have always made food preparation into an art somehow. Using delicate balances of spices and techniques, they could create whatever craving they desired.

Shane was interested as well, but he knew that Eugene was behind the decision to stay at the hotel that had a bar and free breakfast. Eugene was the party God, after all. Enjoying indulgences and bodily pleasures since the dawn of mankind. The thought made Shane blush, but he shook it off as he rounded the corner into the hotels cafe.

He spotted them instantly. Although, it wasn't hard considering Eugene was the only one holding what was very obviously some vodka in a paper bag, Keith was arranging his food into some kind of art piece, Ned was talking avidly about his wife, and Zach was trying not to look like he'd desperately like to leave.

Shane approached cautiously, but his casual display was quickly shattered when he was spotted. Zach immediately stood and walked over, beaming.

“Hades!” he said, and Shane shot him a look.

“No,” he frowned, looking to see if any other patrons were listening. They all seemed pretty dead tired. “Call me Shane.”

Zach apologized, “oh, right, sorry!”

Shane shrugged it off and they went to sit with the rest of the group. The rest of the God's paused in what they were doing to look up at Shane. He sat down and everything was quiet for a painful second. He swallowed nervously.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “I've done a lot of thinking and,” he paused. The group looked like they were on the edge of their seats. “I think I know a lead for who Persephone is.”

The God's all had various positive reactions to the news. Eugene had a smirk on his face, leaning forward.

“What changed?” He asked. “You've been going in circles for millennia.”

Shane grit his teeth. He hated admitting that someone helped him. He hated even more to admit someone he kind of hated helped him. Well, he guessed he didn't hate Eugene. The guy was just kind of unpleasant sometimes.

“It was your comment yesterday.” He murmured. “You said ' or prince ’ and… I didn't even consider that until you said something.”

Eugene grinned. “Wow, pretty closed minded for a God to never think about that.”

Ned scoffed. “I think he was just too heartbroken to think straight.”

“Or to think anyway other than straight.” Keith joked. Shane looked unamused at the banter.

“Well who do you think it is?” Zach butt in. “Do you know his name?”

Shane nodded, wringing his hands, feeling suddenly nervous. “Yeah.” He couldn't take meeting their eyes so he stared down at the table. “His name is Ryan. I ran into him in the woods. I don't know anything about him.”

There was silence around him. He finally looked back up and the rest of the Gods were looking between themselves. It was almost like they were communicating silently somehow. Eventually, Keith looked back at Shane and smiled.

“So, you don't know anything about him?” He asked.

Shane was about to shake his head when he remembered a few things. “Well, he was shooting some video so he might have a channel. Um, he lives on my street I think… and I told him I go to the Seashell sometimes if he ever wanted to hang out.”

“Oh, well that's something.” Ned said, looking a little less stressed about the situation. “Why do you think he's the one?”

Shane stilled. He pursed his lips. Why did he think Ryan was the one? Because of that pulling feeling in the woods? Because of his deep brown eyes? Was it the feel of his body pressing into him and his small, soft hands?

“I was in the forest,” he said, scratching his chin. “There was this pulling in my chest. Like I was attached to a string. I felt drawn away. And then-- I met him.”

The other Gods looked a little in awe. It really did sound like it was meant to be when he said it like that. But he wasn't exaggerating. He didn't make that kind of thing up.

“Wow, that sounds magical.” Ned said after a breathless pause. “Did the feeling go away after you met him?”

Shane nodded. He felt so stupid now, after he got the chance to really think about it. The fates weren't so cruel. They were trying to bring them together and he ignored them. It made his head hurt thinking about it.

“Well, how do we find him?” Shane heard one of them say. He shook his head.

“I- I didn't get his number or anything. I didn't think I was gonna see him again. I told him about the bar though.” He explained. “He might go there tonight. Should I go?”

Zach piped up, “I think it's your best chance at seeing him again.” He said. “Do you really think you found him so easily?”

Shane looked at Zach for a moment before casting his eyes down. He studied the table and took a short breath in.

“I may have found him, but it's never so easy.” Shane said softly. The rest of the Gods fell silent. After a moment, Shane awkwardly laughed. “So, wanna get set up with a new apartment?”

When Ryan got home from work, he was nervous. He was going to go to the Seashell tonight, meet up with Shane, and clear everything up. Honestly, his nerves were on fire, his thoughts running a mile a minute. He was considering every outcome as he went through some daily routines.What if Shane didn't show? What if he didn't recognize him? What if he couldn't find the bar? What if the bar was unexpectedly closed? What if Shane wasn't even a nice guy, what if he was a serial killer?

There were a lot of things to consider when you went out on a limb like he was doing. He wanted to make a good impression, but he didn't want to seem like he was trying too hard. He also wanted to know what he was going to say to the man. What information is too much? What is too little? He didn't want to appear mysterious, because he was actually quite boring. Although, part of him also reminded him that the way they met was already like some meet-cute romance novel, so maybe it wouldn't end up being that bad after all.

Ryan managed to set aside his worry long enough to look at his clothes. He needed to pick an outfit, but he wasn't sure what look he was going for. His wardrobe mostly consisted of jerseys and basketball shorts, since he was lazy at best. He had some nicer outfits, mostly for work, but some for formal occasions.

After rummaging through his closet for thirty minutes he managed to muster up an outfit for the night. It was dark grey jeans, almost black, paired with a light grey button up. The button up had a tiny red rose pattern, giving the look some color back. Ryan debated wearing a bow tie, but ditched the idea last minute. It was a bar for Christ sake! He was already going to be overdressed. He just hoped Shane didn't dress like a hobo for this specific occasion- or just didn't show at all.

He checked all of his belongings three times. He had his wallet, with his ID, some cash, and card. He had his fully charged cell phone. He itched to bring his camera, but it would undoubtedly get damaged so he left it alone. Was that everything? He took one last look at his place before turning towards the door. His hand on the doorknob, he took a long breath in and then let it out slowly. He opened the door and went out.

Everything was going to be fine .

“Guys please, I need to go.” Shane said, although his voice didn't sound urgent. He was too tired to sound urgent.

After breakfast, Shane and the group had scoped out new apartments. Despite his best efforts, they ended up landing a place right next door to Shane's apartment complex that was slightly higher quality and also much larger than his own. He kinda hoped the group would be drawn to the more lavish apartments… the ones that were further away from him. But now they were involved with him. Zach, especially, wanted to help Shane. Ned thought the whole thing was romantic, which Shane would have to pass a hard disagree on.

After they sorted out the paperwork, they booked the hotel for a few more nights until move in. Then the group decided that they wanted to pick out Shane's outfit for tonight.

Cue four extra people in Shane's little apartment bedroom, throwing about clothing and arguing amongst themselves for a few hours.

Shane needed a drink. Lots of drinks. And fast. Very fast.

Currently, Ned and Eugene were both holding up shirts to Shane's torso and shouting over which one looked nicer. It was a close tie between a disco patterned button up and a soft, charcoal grey sweater.

“Well I think this sweater gives a welcoming, homey vibe. You know, imagine coming home from work to your husband wearing a cozy looking sweater. Wouldn't you want to snuggle up?” Ned defended his choice well. Shane liked the particular sweater he was holding. It was well worn and comfortable, something he wore on lazy days.

Eugene scoffed. “He's going to a bar, not your grandmother's Christmas party! This shirt has more pop, it catches the eye. And ugly patterns are in now! It perfectly matches his personality. Modern, but cool.”

Shane had to admit, they both had good arguments. Although, he wasn't sure how ‘ modern, but cool ’ he was. He did like the disco patterned shirt. It was mostly a joke, but he was also pretty fond of how it fit.

Zach butted in. “I say disco pattern.” In the background, Keith nodded in agreement. Ned stomped his foot, not unlike a child being told 'no’ . Shane swallowed down a laugh.

“You guys have no sense!” He tossed the sweater onto Shane's bed and crossed his arms in a huff.

“Disco pattern it is then?” Shane said, sounding relieved. He was itching to leave. He didn't care what he was wearing at this point.

“I hope this Ryan guy likes losers,” Ned muttered under his breath.

The rest of them chuckled at the comment, and left Shane to get changed. After the outfit was situated, he simply looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, even after many attempts at combing his fingers through it. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and he looked plain tired. He wondered what Ryan would think about him.

Was he even going to show up? Was this a good idea?

He sighed. There was only one way to find out.

He left his bedroom to find the boys in the kitchen. There were five shot glasses all in a line down the counter. They had some sort of clear liquid in it. Shane paled.

Eugene was holding a bottle of vanilla vodka, and he laughed at the other God's expression.

“Don't worry, it's not poison!” He joked. “We thought one shot to give you a little confidence boost?”

The rest of them nodded enthusiastically and picked up their own glasses. Eugene put the bottle down and picked up two glasses, handing one off to Shane.

“To Hades’ love life!” Eugene cheered. The rest of them laughed. Shane pretended to gag.

“To Hades’ love life!”

The bar was crowded. Well, to be fair it was the weekend, of course people would be excited to go out. The seashell was one of his favorite places to hang out and observe people.

Humans were curious creatures. Like the God's, they had complex emotions and intricate bonds. They had desires and needs that weren't always so easy to understand. Unlike the God's, however, they were inhibited by their mortality. For example, if two people were brawling in this bar, it wouldn't normally get too out of hand, lest someone get mortally wounded.

Besides the laws in their society, humans naturally feared things they couldn't understand. Death, afterlife, religion, mental illness, the list goes on. To watch humans interact in such a vulnerable place. A bar, where morals are loosened, where bars are lowered. It was interesting.

Though today, he wasn't people watching. He was here for a reason.

He leaned against an open bar stool and ordered a simple beer. The shot from earlier wasn't enough to buzz him, but it did make him feel warm- and a little less anxious.

“Would you like the start a tab, sir?” the bartender asked him.

“Yes, thank you,” he said and handed her his credit card. A few patrons mingled around the bar. The Seashell wasn't the largest bar every, but it was a fairly good sized building. It had an upper floor that was a sit down restaurant, and this lower level was the bar. It wasn't dingy-- clean enough to make you feel okay about sticking around.

After a few moments, he checked his phone.

Sara : what are you doing this weekend?

Shane gave a soft hum at the text. He'd been so busy carting around that gaggle of Gods that he completely forgot about Sara. He hoped she wasn't too upset about it. She undoubtedly knew he was a busy guy.

Shane : I dunno yet. I met someone. I'm at the bar right now waiting for him.

Just then the bartender passed him his beer. He smiled as he thanked her. He took a sip, and a moment later a woman leaned on the stool next to him.

“Hey,” she said to him. Shane had to do a double take to realize that it was actually him she was talking to. “You here all by yourself?”

Shane swallowed nervously. It wasn't that he'd never been flirted with before, it was more like-- he really didn't need to be dealing with such a situation right now. What if Ryan saw him and got angry? Although, it wasn't as if the two were dating. Even if that might be in their future.

He would have to see if his theory was correct first, before he thought about that.

“N-no, I'm waiting for someone.” He said, thankfully only stuttering a little bit. The girl looked on mischievously.

“Who is it, your girlfriend? Your wife?” She leaned into his space. He pulled back, but she was still uncomfortably close. He felt a nervous sweat on the back of his neck.

His phone buzzed.

Sara : Met someone? Ohmygod you have to tell me all the deets! He's a dude? What's his name? Is he pretty?

Shane gave a short huff of laughter at the text. Then he smiled slyly and looked back at the woman.

“Yeah, I'm waiting for my boyfriend.” He said, sternly. The women's face fell and she backed off.

“Ahh, okay then.” With that, she left. Shane grimaced, even though he felt better with her gone. He took a long drink of his beer.

Shane : His name is Ryan. He's short. Cute. Dark hair. Dark eyes. He makes videos. Might have a YouTube channel. Don't know yet though.

When he looked up from his phone this time, he felt a soft tugging in his heart. He glanced towards the door and instantly saw him.

Ryan was dressed casually, but still nice. He looked nervous, but determined. In fact, Shane wasn't sure how he didn't see the similarities before. The boy really did look like a modern, male Persephone.

Then Ryan looked his way and smiled. It was blinding. Shane waved him over.

“Hey, you're here.” Ryan said. He blushed then, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “W-well, of course you are. You said you'd be here…”

Shane stifled a laugh at Ryan's little stumble. He knew what the boy meant. You couldn't always be sure when you're making plans with strangers.

“No worries, I wouldn't ditch you.” He smiled. “I'm a little surprised you came, too. I was worried you might've thought I was some kind of creep.”

Ryan laughed at that. “No, no! You're not creepy, well-- as far as I can tell. Although, we did meet each other in the woods.” He looked away for a moment, and noticed Shane's beer. “Already started, huh?”

“Of course. Hey, drinks on me, yeah?” He offered. Ryan blushed again.

“On you? Oh, no, I--” Ryan started, but cut himself off. He seemed to ponder it for a moment before sighing. “Oh- okay. As long as you let me pay the next time.”

“Next time? You must like me.” Shane couldn't help but laugh. Ryan lightly punched him in the arm.

Shane ordered two more drinks for them and they chatted away. Ryan barely spoke a word or two about his job, but went off about his YouTube channel. He loved film and vlogging helped him a lot with practicing different filming and editing styles. It also helped him build his portfolio so that he could break into a career in it. Shane gave some vague description of an accountant as his job, and mostly steered the conversation towards his hobbies. Gardening, reading, and watching movies were his top three. He mostly liked movies for the popcorn, though, if he was being honest.

“Oh yeah, same. Popcorn is my favorite food!" Ryan said, grinning. “I like it classic, though. Just a spritz of butter and a dash of salt and you're good to go!”

“One time I walked into a theater and bought a large popcorn even though I wasn't seeing a movie.” Shane said. Ryan laughed. “The employees eyed me strangely, but otherwise it was a liberating experience.”

“What kinds of things do you garden?” Ryan asked. He was on his fifth or sixth beer, Shane noticed. He had switched to water after his third beer. He hoped Ryan wasn't drinking too much. Though he was curious about how he would act, drunk.

“Well, I can't do much with my current apartment. But I do grow lots of flowers. I set them up on all my windows and try my hardest to keep them alive.” He paused, suddenly feeling a bit forlorn. “Gardening reminds me of someone I used to know. They were really special to me.”

“Who?” Ryan asked, though he bit his lip and quickly said, “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want.”

Shane shook his head. His heart hurt to talk about Persephone, but he'd been hurting for so long that it was natural for him. He smiled.

“Her name was Persie.” He said, leaning against the bar. Ryan moved in closer, interest written on his face. “She was really one of a kind. Plants in her care thrived effortlessly, any kind, no matter the weather. She had such a way with animals, too. Even the most savage beasts would roll over for a rub when she was around.” He paused, letting out a sigh. “I have this dog. He's quite a vicious dog, trained in guarding territory. The first time she met him, he whined and licked her hand. He hasn't even done that with me. It was amazing.”

Ryan smiled, “wow, she sounds wonderful. What happened to her?”

Shane let his face fall a bit at the question. “I-- uh,” he hesitated, taking a sip of his water. His voice was nothing but a whisper. “She… she went away.”

Ryan frowned empathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, before peeking back up. “It's alright. That was a long, long time ago.”

Ryan downed the rest of his beer. There was a constant pink tinge in his face from drinking, Shane could tell. It was rather cute.

“Hey, this may or may not be too much info, but speaking of more serious things, I keep having these weird dreams.” Ryan started. He inched closer to Shane, enough so that he could lean against him. Shane blushed, but didn't pull away. “Sometimes i'm on a long, white sand beach somewhere I've never seen before. Sometimes I'm drowning in dark water. Once, I was in a magnificent castle. But I'm always someone else.” He paused. “Well. I'm still me, but people call me another name. I have even seen myself in my dream. I look the same, but also-- different. A different version of myself.”

“What do they call you in these dreams?” Shane asked. His heart pounded. What Ryan was about to say might change everything.

Ryan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he winced and brought up a hand to his head like he was hurt. Shane put an arm around his shoulders, but Ryan was quick to push him away.

“I should go,” he said. Shane was kind of stunned. He wasn’t sure what to say. As Ryan got up to leave, he grabbed the man’s arm.

“Wait--” he started. Ryan looked back at him then, and Shane could’ve sworn his eyes flashed gold.

He let go.

Ryan left the bar quickly and disappeared from sight. Shane still had his hand open, the lingering feeling of pressing skin to skin still on his fingers. Those eyes. Shane’s heart pounded away. His phone buzzed.

Sara : He sounds cute! Don’t mess it up!

#shyan #gods au #like the dawn #my fic #shyan fic

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

D&D NPC Backstory: Karaska

Fandom: D&D Whumpee: Karaska (OC Orc Ranger) Tropes: Impalement, dehydration, starvation, infected wounds, suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence Word Count: 1892

Karaska had been on a hunting trip with some other members of his clan when it happened. The orc set out on his own one afternoon with his raptor, a white-feathered and fiercely loyal creature named Rabbit, seeking to confirm the location of some deer the party had spotted previously. They would tomorrow and take the hides and meat back home the day after.

As the daylight grew dim, Karaska’s eyes adjusted quickly. The deer would likely not spot the duo in the dark, but it would nevertheless be dangerous to go hunting them at night, lest it attract other nighttime predators.

The moon was visible above the treetops when Karaska located the herd of deer. They were moving through the woods along a suspected trail that’d been formed by generations of herds walking that same track. Karaska watched them silently for a moment and took mental note of some landmarks, then started making his way back to the camp.

He must have made a misstep, going through the unfamiliar terrain after dark. He didn’t notice the gorge, hidden by an overhanging bunch of roots. His foot slipped on a loose patch of earth, and before he knew it, Karaska was tumbling down the almost-shear slope. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in surprise and grasped wildly at the cluster of roots, but they broke off in his grip and he plummeted.

He felt a stabbing pain in his leg and a sharp crack to his skull, and the world went completely dark.

When Karaska opened his eyes again, it was to a misty, pre-dawn world. Rabbit was chattering and screeching in alarm somewhere above--were they under attack? Without thinking, he tried to leap to his feet, but something ground against--inside--his leg. He snarled in pain and fell back, squeezing his eyes shut. He remembered the fall. Must’ve broken his leg. He could make a splint and limp back to the camp with Rabbit’s help.

He opened his eyes again and sat, more carefully this time, to assess the damage. Well… His leg was almost certainly broken, but his landing had impaled the limb on a jagged rock, and it was twisted at the knee. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to block out the pain that only increased as he awoke further. He just had to free himself. In the meantime, Rabbit could fetch the others.

“Rabbit!” he barked, craning his neck to see above him. The upset chattering ceased, and Rabbit stuck her head out over the lip of the gorge, looking down with one golden eye. “Get the rest of the party. I’m hurt.” The raptor made a high-pitched whining and edged closer, claws gripping at the overhang of roots.

Karaska, for the only time in his life, regretted having such a loyal companion. Rabbit leapt down into the gorge alongside him, landing with a stumble but unharmed. She skittered across the debris and to her master’s side, scolding him with chuffs and chirps. “Rabbit, no,” Karaska muttered, stroking her feathered head. “I need you to get help. Fetch Songok and Mol.”

Rabbit’s head pricked a bit at the command, but stayed put. She was clearly not going to abandon her master. Karaska sighed. “...Stand guard,” he ordered. This she was willing to do; with a chirrup, she turned and trotted a few yards away, keeping lookout towards the entrance to the gorge.

Karaska turned his focus to his immediate predicament. The pain was worsening with every moment of awareness, and his head was beginning to throb as well. The bites he’d given himself on his tongue and lip were not helping matters either. He had to get himself out of here.

He tried lifting his leg off the rocky spike, but shifting it upwards just tore at his flesh, and he couldn’t bear the pain long enough to get it off in one go. The stone was too tall to go inch by inch as well--he simply couldn’t hold his leg up for that long.

He leaned forward as far as he could manage and grasped the stone above where it protruded, and tried to wrench the upper part off. No such luck; he only managed to cut up his palms.

After shredding part of his shirt to wrap up his hands, Karaska spent a few minutes considering his belt-knife. A one-legged hunter was still better than a dead one, right? But he realized there was no way it could cut through the bone.

He simply had to wait for rescue. His hunting party would have definitely noticed his absence by now and started searching.

---

It was three days before Karaska realized help was not going to come for him. He’d yelled himself hoarse the first day, hoping to direct his fellows to his location, but as far as he could tell all that did was startle some birds. He’d tried firing his crossbow bolts into the sky, but they didn’t seem to attract anything. Rabbit helpfully brought him small game, but even orcs couldn’t stomach raw meat for long, and he instead tossed the catches for Rabbit to catch. His bigger problem was water. It had rained on the second day, but he hadn’t gotten enough droplets in his mouth to keep thirst at bay for long.

The pain was the worst part of it. He couldn’t tune it out long enough to sleep through the night or even distract himself by thinking of his home.

By the fifth day, he was prone on his back and delirious. Infection had set into his injuries, and the lack of food and water had started to finally take its toll. Some lucid part of his feverish mind kept going back to the knife tucked into his belt.

Karaska was drifting, staring unfocused at the tangle of roots over what he now thought of as his final resting place, when he heard Rabbit make an excited trilling noise and dash off through the gorge, probably in pursuit of a small animal. Just as well; she didn’t need to see her master suffer like this any longer. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up to sitting and grasped at the hilt of his knife with his sweaty palm.

While still trying to work up the nerve to stop the suffering there and now, he realized he was hearing voices. Finally hallucinating, it seemed. Better get it overwith. He closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer to the Master Tracker as he fought to keep a grip on his knife.

The voices grew closer, were accompanied by footsteps. Karaska opened his eyes to meet the fever-ghosts, and saw a short figure clad in gold and pink rushing towards him. He blinked rapidly, trying to make out what he was seeing. A dwarf?

A brown, calloused palm rested itself on his cheek, and he closed his eyes to lean into the touch. Imaginary or not, it felt pleasantly cool on his feverish skin. “You poor dear,” a warm and deep voice rumbled next to him. “We’ll get you out of this.”

There was a snap of breaking stone, and he was lifted in strong, cold, very solid arms, off of the spike. The pain sliding through his leg was the last thing he felt before losing consciousness.

---

Karaska awoke some time later. He didn’t yet open his eyes, but he did his best to take in his surroundings. Someone had wrapped him in several blankets, and there was a warm pillow beneath his head. A fire was crackling nearby and he smelled cooking meat. He had to be dead, right? To feel so comfortable now after slowly dying in agony? Maybe at the end there he’d been taken by spirits.

He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but moving his leg sent pain racing through his body and he gasped, eyes snapping open. Rabbit was curled up by his side, watching him intently. And above him was a brown-skinned dwarf wrapped in gold and pink robes, smiling gently. “Look who’s awake,” he rumbled, in the deep voice he’d heard before. “Don’t try to move just now, poor man. You’re still in quite bad shape.”

“Alright,” Karaska said, blinking up at who was apparently his savior. He wouldn’t question it for now. He heard the dwarf shift slightly, and as his pillow moved, he realized he was resting on his lap. “Who are you?”

“Call me Fancy, dear,” the dwarf said. “Your friend found us.” He gestured to Rabbit, who chirped at the acknowledgement and nestled into Karaska’s side. “Good thing, too. I suspect you would’ve died before much longer had we taken a different path through the woods.”

Karaska made a small grunt of agreement and turned his head on Fancy’s lap, looking out over this new location. His rescuers had set up camp in a small clearing. There looked to be a woman with glowing gold eyes, some kind of iron-bound golem standing guard, and a young lizardfolk gathered on the other side of the fire, giving Fancy and Karaska their own space for now. Beyond them, he saw two wagons full of goods, and four horses picketed nearby.

“If you’re hungry, there’s soup,” Fancy said. “Fable didn’t think you could handle much more than that, and I’m inclined to agree, given the state you were in.”

“Soup’s fine,” Karaska said. Fancy carefully eased himself out from under Karaska’s head and replaced his lap with an actual pillow that smelled as if it had a lavender sachet tucked inside. Surprisingly, he found that the lap had been more comfortable.

Fancy went to the fire, filled a bowl from the kettle there, and returned to Karaska’s side. He knelt back down and helped Karaska to a sitting position, warm hands a solid support at his back. “Fable will want to speak with you when you feel up for it, by the way,” Fancy said as Karaska inhaled the soup straight from the bowl. After five days with only raw hares, he was grateful for anything that was cooked. “We’re… adventurers, of a sort, and she thinks you could be a good addition to the team when you’re healed up.”

Karaska set the bowl aside, flexing his healing hands carefully. It felt like healing magic had been worked on him, but he knew from experience there was only so much that could be done out of the heat of battle. “I need to return to my clan,” he said. “I was separated from my hunting party. They must have been unable to find me.”

A troubled expression crossed Fancy’s face. “Well, if we can, I’m sure Fable will help you return home.” He glanced over to the woman on the other side of the fire, whose eyes continued to burn golden in the increasing darkness as she watched them. “She’ll insist you hear her out, at least.”

Karaska grunted and shifted to lie back down, feeling exhausted again already after sitting for so brief a time. He heard Fancy moving back near where he’d been before. He closed his eyes and started drifting off again, waking only briefly when he felt Fancy’s hand gently petting his hair. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stick with this group for a bit after all.

#whump #hurt/comfort #d&d #my writing

[joyfullynervouscreator]

The Walkers pt 2

The second part of Ullrae’s story.

part 1                part 2                part 3                part 4

As you grow stronger, you begin to roam farther from the house, hunting to improve your skills. Beorn usually follows, though he does not interfere in your kills until you have eaten your fill; then he finishes the rest and helps you bury the bones. At ‘home’ – you wonder sometimes at how quickly it has become home to you, even with no formal agreement between you and Beorn – you do not eat meat, living off vegetables and oat grains, milk and honey. Caring for the animals is simple, but it brings you great joy just to be able to see the sky; being around living beings that don’t smell like hate and blood is nearly euphoric.

It is a good life, though it takes you months to stop flinching away from Beorn if he reaches for you while you’re eating, to stop the ingrained habit of eating quickly in case someone takes your food away.

You speak, more words than you have spoken since your family died, more words than you thought you remembered. You are silent, working when it suits you. Beorn is a kind teacher, helping you with the things you do not know, though you are surprised at how many skills you still remember learning as a child.

You spend days as a lynx, resting on a shaded branch in one of the large trees, surveying Beorn’s gardens. The fear of pursuers remains, though Beorn tells you he slaughtered all the hunters, for he also claims there were no pale orcs among them. You know Bolg and Azog will not simply let their pet flee; you remain on guard, one ear cocked to listen for the snarl of wargs, your nose primed to catch the scent of orcs.

 You’ve spent a few years with Beorn before you notice that you like watching him, watch the strength in his bodies. At first, you wonder if is a peculiar form of gratitude that makes you act so, makes you want him to notice you… as a female. It is strange to you, to feel desire. You’ve spent so many years banishing any thought of physical intimacy that this simple want scares you. It takes you months to work out that you love him as more than simply a friend and Scildere – he has told you his word for what he is; a protector of the clan, even if his clan is long-dead and replaced by his animals and you – but the knowledge does not fill you with joy.

Beorn loves his mate – as he should, you recognize rationally, ignoring the snarled ‘mine!’ that echoes in your head at the thought – and ever since he’s found you, he’s been filled with hope that he might not have been the only one to escape; someone else might have fled, just like you did. You try to tell him what happened to those who ran; Beorn is the only one who managed, you’re fairly sure. The hunters were always happy to throw a Walker’s pelt to the floor at Azog’s feet and you watched many such pelts; determined not to give them the satisfaction of showing any response to the crushing of your hope every time they came back with another corpse. If not for Beorn discovering you, you too would have been such a corpse – or, worse, you would have survived to be chained up once more.

The worst part is that you know exactly what happened to Beorn’s mate, listening to him describe her features, both woman and bear. You did not learn her name, but you met the Walker who was his mate – the mother of his child. You think Beorn knows, the way he looks at you when it finally fits in your head and you realise you hold the power to take his hope away, just like the hunters did to you, the power to kill the light in his eyes.

You flee.

You cannot do that to him, you will not. Even if you are lying to him by keeping quiet, it is still better than telling him what happened to her, what happened to his Berveig… and her cub.

For days, you refuse to walk as a human, knowing that Beorn – even if he has learned some of your sounds as you have learned his – cannot speak with you properly in lynx form, cannot understand your growls and yips. He is worried, you know, and it makes you feel worse about the lie, though also more determined to keep the secret. You love this man, this bear, even if it is futile, even if he will never love you; take you for his own, his mate.

“You are keeping something from me, Ullrae,” he accuses quietly, on the fourth day. “You do not want to be woman, because you think I will read it in your face, so you stay lynx, hoping I will forget. I will not forget, Ullrae,” you know he won’t, know that you are at an impasse, “I saw it in your face; you met Berveig in the stronghold; you must know what happened to her.” His voice breaks on her name, breaks your heart.

You do not respond, and Beorn falls silent. He spends the rest of the day sitting beneath your tree – you claimed it almost as soon as you were strong enough to climb – in utter silence. When the sun has set, he sighs, getting to his feet and walking into the house.

You leap, darting off through the gloaming.

You hunt, though your mind is whirling, bringing down a couple of rabbits and eating them quickly.

After five days, you return to the house, walking through the door in your human body, naked and knowing there are grassy stains on your skin, leaves in your hair. You do not care. Beorn looks up from the small block of wood he’s been carving and you find yourself wrapped in his arms in the next moment. You cling to him, stealing the pleasure of his scent for as long as he lets you, holding you close as he trembles.

“I thought… you had left me,” he whispers hoarsely. You shake your head.

“I needed to think.”

“Please, tell me… what happened to my mate?” Beorn asks, plaintive and wistful, and your heart breaks for him.

“She is dead,” you say, cupping his face gently, letting him read the truth of that in your eyes, “one of many who were killed as entertainment. I am sorry.”

“How?” he asks, his arms suddenly lax as he sinks into his chair; the light of hope dying – just as you knew it would. You bite your lip, your eyes filling with tears for the pain in his face; the defeated posture of his body.

“I will not say,” you tell him, and you will not. It was the deal you made with yourself. You will give him the knowledge he wanted, but you will never tell him how, nor will you tell him about the cub’s fate. Stroking his cheek gently, you are unprepared for the way he flinches away from you. It hurts.

“Tell me!” he demands, gripping your arm, but you shake your head.

“You are Scildere, Beorn, but in this… let me protect you,” you ask quietly, uncowed by his darkening temper. “Let the knowledge that she died be the end of it. Do not ask me again.” Beorn does not speak.

 Life goes on after that, as it always does, but something is different. There is anger in Beorn, a new kind; one which is aimed at you and it tears at your heart, even as it firms your resolve.

 Months later, you wake up feeling strangely hot. Turning to Beorn, who has been sleeping in the same bed with you since he found you, you nose into his neck with a light whine, the male scent of him assaulting your senses and causing a flood of desire to wash over you. Rubbing yourself against the planes of his body, you writhe on the bed, seeking something you cannot name.

“Ullrae?” he whispers sleepily, wrinkling his nose lightly.

“Beorn…” you moan breathily, your tongue darting out to lap at his skin, taste him. When you lift your leg, straddling one of his hard thighs, you nearly hiss at finding the friction you need. Beorn’s eyes snap open, his hands wrapping tight around your upper arms as he stares at you. You moan, rubbing yourself against him as you enjoy the powerful grip, this show of dominant strength. You purr into his throat, nipping lightly at the skin. Beorn sucks in a deep breath. The next thing you know, you’re on your back, staring up at an enraged man, snarling down at you. It makes you melt with lust, rather than fear, but even as you spread your legs to cradle him, part of your mind is panicking at what is happening to you.

“You’re in heat.” Beorn says, sounding stunned. You nod, whimpering as you offer him your throat, lost in needing frenzy already. Beorn curses. He picks you up, a flash of something like pain crossing his face as you wrap your long legs around him, rubbing your aching core against him, enjoying the hardness that is all male. You want it inside you, want to be claimed, cared for, wanted. Mewling into his neck, every step he takes a mixture of torture and bliss, you don’t care where you’re going. When he sets you down on a pile of straw, your roll over, enjoying the grassy scent as you push yourself up on your hands and knees, looking back at him with a needy whine. Beorn’s eyes are black; you can see him straining against his trousers – you sleep naked, but Beorn had always worn linen trousers to bed. You whine again, tempting him by bowing your back, pushing your arse into the air. The air is thick with the smell of your musk.

The door slams shut, the outside latch locking you in.

 It’s been three days. You’re exhausted, having succumbed to the desire to mate over and over, though you have only your own fingers to try to stop the burning. It is not enough. You have cried, and cursed, begged and screamed at Beorn, though you know he hasn’t been near the barn in three days. When it finally stops, you can’t move, too tired to even whimper when he picks you up, brings you into the kitchen to feed you a thin porridge with plenty of cream. You snarl.

“Please, Ullrae,” Beorn says, pushing the bowl towards you, “you must eat.”

You know he is right, and as soon as the first bite hits your empty stomach – there is water from a rain barrel fed into the barn, but you’ve had no mind to consider sustenance – you shovel it down, sighing in bliss when he pours you a large mug of fresh milk. You fall asleep as soon as it is finished.

 “That was your first heat,” Beorn states when you wake up in your bed – it is his bed, but you’ve never wanted your own, preferring the safety of sleeping with Beorn. You nod.

“You have to be adult in human skin before they start,” you whisper, “but they never happened to me… I always assumed I was… broken,” you admit, thinking back to the dark years in the stronghold. You whimper. Now that it’s over, you have the capacity to feel beyond the need for a male – any male, if you’re honest, though you know you’d feel the strongest about Beorn – rutting into you. “I’m sorry,” you weep, because you are; you may want him, even now feel a frisson of lust for him, but you know Beorn does not feel for you that way. He was mated before; it’s a bond you can’t touch.

“Hush now, wild thing,” he murmurs, picking you up and letting you cry into his chest, overwhelmed by the relief that you’re not broken and the very real fear that he will send you away now. Beorn strokes your hair, petting you calmly. “Do you know how often this will happen? How soon?” he asks, his voice deep and soothing.

“3 or 4 years,” you whisper, “more if I have a cub, probably.” You feel him stiffen at that, breaking your heart as he silently dashes the hope you might have had that he would one day – maybe many years from now, but you could wait – give you his cub. You’re only fertile while the heat lasts, but you’re already dreading the next one. This was torture; a different kind than the one inflicted by Azog’s whips and knives, but torture all the same. Beorn keeps petting your hair.

“Well, we have 3 years to come up with a better solution,” he mutters, but you know there isn’t one; know that he will not give you what you truly need.

  The first time Beorn kisses you, he is angry. It was a silly row about him leaving a cupboard open and you banging your head against it, escalating until you were snarling at each other.

“Do not tell me how to act in my own home!” he growls, but you do not care to hear the warning signs. “You’re not my mate, Ullrae!”

“No, your mate is dead!” you scream, “and this is my home too!” It’s been two decades since Beorn saved you, made this place yours as much as his.

“Do not speak of her!” he snarls, shaking you. You snap your teeth at him. “You’ve never had love, you don’t know what I lost!”

“Berveig is dead, Beorn!” you bellow, “Let her rest! Stop using your dead mate to punish me for being alive!” Pulling at the ties of your shift, you let the fabric drop to the floor, longing to lope through the night air in your other skin. Beorn catches your arm. The kiss is a surprise, a hard meeting of mouths that suddenly gentles; Beorn’s arms wrapping around you. You mewl – surprised and pleased, but still angry – scratching your nails down his chest. Beorn pulls back, his large hands still wrapped around your arms.

“Ullrae…” he whispers, staring at you as though he is seeing right through you. “I’m sorry,” he falters, his mouth opening and closing a few times without words.

“I love, Beorn,” you mutter, all the fight leaving you. “I will never have love, you’re right, but it does not mean I do not feel it.” You turn away from him – it’s an old wound, the knowledge that he does not love you, but it still hurts – breaking free of his hold.

“Ullrae!” he calls, but you do not turn around, shifting in mid-air and running off into the night.

  You slink back in the early hours of sunrise, knowing that Beorn is not home; his scent has gone north-east. Silently, you pack a few things, bundle them up in a way that your lynx shape can carry. With a final pat to the dogs, you leave Beorn’s home, masking your trail as you go. You don’t think he will follow, but you do it anyway; it is more useful than crying for the life you have left behind.

  When he gives up trying to track her, Beorn returns to his cold home, hoping beyond hope that Ullrae’s golden eyes will smile at him when he walks in but knowing that she is not in the house. She’s been back while he was gone, and for a moment he feels hope that she simply left to think, that he only imagined the pain in her eyes as she spoke of loving… him. The small ember is doused as soon as he steps into the kitchen, seeing only the small piece of paper on the table.

                          Beorn,

When you read this, I will be gone. I am not coming back. I thank you for all that you have done for me, and I hope you will remember me fondly.

I am sorry, but you are right. I have never been mated, and still I have acted as though I am yours. It was wrong of me.

As I do not intend to return, it seems only fair that I tell you the ending of Berveig’s story, as I have so long refused to do. I do not regret keeping this knowledge to myself, for I know it will bring you only pain. For that, however, I am sorry; I have never wished harm on you.

I first met Berveig when she was brought to Azog’s throne room; chains around her neck and shackles on her hands and feet. The orcs were jeering, though I did not know their speech then, so I cannot tell you what they called her. She was placed in a cage, after Azog’s favourite had whipped her while he called for her to change – it was one of the first commands I learned, watching him find joy in watching the shifting of bones and flesh to move from one form to another. Often, he would whip the Walkers mid-shift… their screams still echo in my head.

Berveig’s teeth were pulled the next day. Then he removed her claws, carving open her paws and detaching them that way. Every day, he cut something else; a finger, part of an ear, a toe; small things, while he yelled taunts I did not understand, but which made her roar in fury and terror.

It took me some time to realise why she was scared. Most of the Walkers in the cages would give up their fight, their lives, but Berveig fought every day.

I brought her water; things the Orcs called food, I cleaned her wounds when Azog felt like it. She did not speak to me. I do not think she had much mind left to care about Azog’s servant – I would not, in her place – but she knew what I was. She stared at me with hatred at first, watching me serve him wine, feed him, follow his many commands. I did not care. To me, she was little more than my Master’s new toy, an object of amusement to him, and the longer she lived, the less pain he would inflict on me.

One night, Azog’s torment made her pass out. I don’t know if she faked it or truly fainted, but I know she watched as I took her place as the evening’s entertainment, dancing at the end of my chain, my clothes cut off by Azog’s blade.

In the morning, Berveig spoke to me. It was only one word, ‘walker’, but I nodded. Berveig’s mangled hand reached out to grab mine, bringing it to her belly.

I knew, in that moment, why she fought so fiercely, and why Azog played with her so carefully.

Berveig was carrying a cub.

I kept my face blank, but I nodded at her, accepting the secret of the knowledge – one female to another.

Of course, her secret did not remain so, as she grew larger, and I have my doubts it was ever a secret to begin with.

I cannot bear to write down the many tortures they used on her while the cub grew in her belly.

Before the birth – though not so long before it would have happened naturally – Azog grew tired of waiting. He cut the babe from her body, watched as she pleaded for her child, her son.

I held the cub, who somehow knew to breathe, while I watched the life leave her eyes.

His name was chosen in one of my brief conversations with her: Æristhyth, her hope for resurrection of her clan.

I cared for him, as best I could, though I had no milk to give him. He was beautiful, fur the colour of good soil and eyes as blue as summer skies.

Azog laughed when he took the babe from me, made me watch as he was carved to pieces.

As I write this, my tears make the ink run, as I remember both of them once more; Berveig and Æristhyth were among the first of the many I watched die, but I… I cared for them, even before I knew her name.

I never wanted you to have these images of the lady you love, my darling Beorn, and I hope you will one day forgive me for telling you. Perhaps you may even forgive me for staying silent until I am already too far away to answer your questions.

I know you will be angry, but I can only say this:

I love you. I love you, and I would never wish to hurt you. I love you – more than I believed I could, but I accept that you do not feel the same.

I hope that you will be well, and, please, do not hate me for keeping my secret for all these years.

 All my love,

 Ullrae, daughter of Léona.

#Beorn #beorn/reader #The Skinchanger Chronicles

[topazshadowwolf]

Just a Walk in The Park

Day 4 of Soriel Week... only three more days... Dang this is going by fast (even faster since I’m scheduling them in one day). Anyway! The prompt is “protection” and this is technically my first collaboration. I had started this before even agreeing to do this fun piece with Poisond. @smashedkittkate and I were talking about this prompt and agreed I’d write a story if she draws a picture. Make sure to check out her half!

An Undertale Fanfiction by: Topaz Shadowwolf Undertale is owned by: Toby Fox Relationships: Soriel Rating: Everyone Heads up: There is one pun of a curse word that doesn’t actually use the word. 

Just a Walk in The Park

 When it came to planning dates, Sans kept it simple. The less work involved, the better. Go out for a movie in a theater that will also serve you food. As the saying goes, two birds with one stone.

After that, well, Tori likes taking walks. He never understood the appeal of it, but if she enjoys it, he’ll join her. On the way back from the theater, there is a park they have never been to, which should be interesting for her.

He didn't bother looking up the park, after all, it's a park. It has grass, trees, a sky, fresh air, and possibly a pond or stream. What else would one need to know about it?

Both thought nothing of it as they pulled up. Sans did notice that a lot of the cars had those “I love my (whatever breed of dog)” stickers but this was a park. Parks attract outdoorsy people, and they generally have a dog or two. So what? Most parks he has seen have leash rules.

Back when they lived underground, Sans never had any problems with dogs. Yes, sometimes the non-monster dogs would chase after bone attacks, or lightly chew on finger bones when being petted. But never was it anything that would cause any actual harm, or concern, just minor annoyances.

Then again, those dogs had become used to the idea of bones not being chew things. Monsters turn to dust when dead, leaving nothing for dogs to gnaw on. That, and monsters made of bone tend to fight back if used as a chew toy. Leading Sans, and even his brother Papyrus, to not understand the full threat dogs are, until a few ill encounters on the surface.

There were near bites when petting them, and one dog did bite Papyrus, leading the dog's owner to apologize profusely. But the worst case was when they had been invited with Frisk, Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, and Alphys to an informal dinner at a senator’s house. Papyrus, as the monster mascot and friend of the young ambassador, was also invited with Sans as his plus one.

The dog there was very well behaved, and clearly loved, almost to spoiling. Sans listened to all the important talk while petting the dog, both over all enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until dinner did the skeletons learned what it would feel like to have your skin crawl.

A few days ago, the dog’s owner had given it a cow bone, which it opted to gnaw on while everyone was eating. The brothers quickly lost their appetites at the sound of crunching, splitting, and cracking bone. Once the senator realized what was wrong, he took the bone away from the dog and apologized. Both skeletons said it was alright, and not to worry. Inwardly, they fully understood, that if a large cow femur could be cracked so easily, perhaps fraternizing with dogs is something they should avoid.

It was after that, Sans did notice a change in Toriel when it came to dogs and him. If they are out walking, and see a dog, she grabs his hand, and even pull him closer. One time, when a lady was walking towards them with a pack of dogs, Toriel not only held him close, but she shifted herself between him and the dogs.

He didn't complain. It was nice being temporarily pressed against her. Soft, warm, and safe.

If there are any dogs being walked, it shouldn't be that bad. If the leash rule is kept, it may just lead to more enjoyable moments of impromptu cuddles.

A short way into the park, the next thing they noticed was a bowl of water by the fountain. “An odd thing to do,” Toriel commented. But then they reasoned it must be for someone's dog or another pet.

There didn't seem to be a play set, but there were toys scattered about. Tennis balls, without a tennis quart. An abandoned stuffed toy of a rabbit. And a… plastic fire hydrant?

Eye socket lights deadened, realization of what kind of park this was sunk in. There won't be any leash rules here, as dogs in these kinds of parks are allowed to run free.

To add insult to injury, just then something hit him on the head. It didn't hit hard, but it was noticeable, and left a small sore spot. It bounced off his skull and landed just a few inches away.

“ouch,” Sans mumbled.

“Oh, Sans, are you alright?” Toriel asked, while lightly petting his skull. She must have used some healing magic, as what little pain he felt was eased away.

“yeah, thanks tori,” he replied while looking down at the offending object. It was a ball, a tennis ball. Much like the one Undyne and Papyrus took turns throwing for the senator’s dog that one night.

When Sans looked up from the ball and saw dogs; not just one, but a pack, barreling towards him, and he froze. His magic didn’t know what to do. Should it flare up in defense or attack? Should it prepare for a short cut to escape? He had to decide as they were closing in fast. Granted, the little dogs were in the lead, but small dogs still have strong jaws.

Just as he started to take a step back he felt the ground disappear from under his feet. Toriel had quickly lifted him, and now held him up high over her head. He hoped he wasn’t hurting her, as he grabbed her arms for dear life. Even if he was, at this moment, he was not about to let go. One slipper slipped off along the way, and was now the prisoner of a rambunctious miniature pinscher who proudly ran around with it.

Toriel used her feet to try to usher the dogs away, but that only seemed encourage them to keep trying. “Go on, away with you!” She said. The dogs didn't seem to care.

Some thought she was playing some game. A few, including a lab and a collie, ran around happily, unsure what the excitement was about, but, dang it, they wanted to be a part of it! Then there was a golden retriever and a few small dogs looking up at him as if they just won a lifetime supply of chew toys.

The sound of tearing fabric caught his attention, and he glanced over to see the min pin was playing tug-of-war with his slipper against a beagle mix. He’s had those slippers since he was a lot younger while living in the underground. And now some dogs were tearing holes in the well-worn, yet still fluffy, cloth.

“Your slipper,” Toriel’s voice held the same sorrow he felt for the ruined footwear. It had surpassed clothing, and was more than just something comfortable to wear. Those old slippers were a part of who he was. If any of his friends were to describe his style, his hoodie and slippers would always be mentioned.

“it’s okay, tori, let's just get out of here,” it pained Sans to say that. But it was impractical to ask her to rescue it while keeping him safe. “it may be gone, but it won't be furgotten.”

Toriel struggled not to laugh, “Be careful making me laugh, my dear, we wouldn't want this to get any hairier.”

Although her teasing was not to be taken seriously, it still made Sans a little nervous. Relief came in the form of owners coming and collecting their dogs. One owner commented on how silly it is for a skeleton to come to a dog park. The other owners told that one off.

Over all, he managed to avoid any contact with most of the dogs, save for an interested sniff from an Irish wolfhound and a friendly lick, on his bare bone foot, from a bullmastiff when Toriel wasn't looking. He knew they were only being friendly, but considering their size he couldn't help but feel a shiver go up his spine.

To avoid any incidents on their way to the car, Toriel carried him. As they neared it, she hummed, “Well, I do believe that is enough adventure for me. And I’m sure it be rather ruff on you.”

Tension, Sans didn't even know he had, dissolved as he laughed, “oh, tori, that was bad, and over used.”

“I like to think of it as a classic,” Tori smiled.

“i guess it's as the saying goes,” Sans replied as if in deep thought.

“What saying is that?”

“you can't teach an old dog new tricks.”

Toriel was about to unlock the car, but that made her pause. Her snout wrinkle in that way it does when she doesn't want to laugh but it is brewing within her. “Is that so,” she finally said once she had calmed herself, “Well, perhaps I should, as the saying goes, throw you to the dogs. Though in the less figurative and more literal sense.”

“shih tzu wouldn’t actually do that, would you?”

The goat monster giggled, “I don't know, that comment was rather shar pei. Besides, you are rather husky, and my arms are getting tired.”

“mercy, please t, if not for me, then for my dear brother papillon,” Sans accented the idea of pleading by putting his hand together while opening his sockets wide.

Toriel laughed then nose nuzzled his nasal bone, “Enough with the puppy eyes my dear, I love you too much to do that.”

In the distance one of the dog owners whistled at them while another cheered. Sans felt a little flustered by that, and judging by the blush peeking through her fur, so was Toriel.

When it comes to planning dates, Sans likes to keep it simple; but that doesn't always mean it will be. Lesson learned, he now puts more effort in so things, hopefully, go smoothly.

#sorielweek #sorielweek2017 #undertale #fanfiction #soriel #this was fun #i enjoy doing colabs #but i'm scared to agree to them #i can be lazy and forgetful #i hope you like it

[red-the-dragon-writes]

I was tagged by@natalieironside and then also by@borinquenaqueer XD

my words are fight, love, queer, confusion, and sword from the first batch and electric, bruise, hands, empty, and ache from the second :D

I'm tagging @chokopoppo @dragon-swords-prophecies @greatshell-rider @0ptiimus @honestlyvan and anyone else who wants in uwu. Your words are shudder, twisted, bright, lost and water. :D

Cut for length.

FIGHT:

“(...)Sorry about standing you up for lunch.” “It’s alright. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed your company much. You beat up Felyx?” “To be fair, I’ve beaten Felyx up a few times.” “He’s a shrimp. It’s like beating on a chihuahua.” “He’s like double your size.” “Yes, but I could snap you in half without breaking a sweat, and we both know it. Felyx is a… well. He’s Felyx.” “He’s no slouch. He just wasn’t hitting me back.” “I wouldn’t’ve wanted to hit you back either. It sounds like you were having more of a meltdown than a real fight.” “Shh. Kings don’t have meltdowns.” “Of course, your majesty. Do you prefer temper tantrum?” “If it gets you to stop calling me titles.” “You’re going to really need to get over that.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Go write your speech,” Merox said. “And you can make earlier up to me with dinner.”

LOVE:

“You shouldn’t punch people. It’s not nice.” “I’m not nice.” “It’s mean.” “I am mean. I kill people.” “You’re not mean. You’re Rex.” “Fuck off. Yes I am. I’m super mean. And scary.” “No you’re not.” “Yeah I am. I scare people. Because I am scary.” “Then they’re cowards, because you’re lying here with your face in a bowl of ice cream mumbling into the table. That’s not very scary of you.” “This is your fault,” Rex said again. “No, it’s your fault,” Felyx said, and yawned. “If you really didn’t want to go out so bad, you should’ve just not come out.” “I hate you.” “I love you too, Rex.” “I hate you so much.” “I know you do, Rex.” “You’re the worst friend ever.” “I know that means you love me.” “It does not,” Rex lied halfheartedly. “It means you’re the worst and I hate you. Obviously.” “Obviously,” Felyx agreed. “Let’s get you home before you pass out.” “I’m not going to pass out,” Rex said weakly, and then he passed out.

QUEER: somehow not in the document in spite of the fact that this cast is like practically bowl of honey nut queerios lmao. i'm genuinely surprised.

CONFUSION: also not in the doc so I just went with "confused" lol

“I didn’t know that,” said Felyx. “Merox, did you know that?” Rex glanced over to the doorway. Merox was conspicuously absent. She must’ve left. “I didn’t,” he said after a second into their confused pause. “But, no, no, that’s perfect. That’s perfect. Have the messenger stay for the banquet, put him with the table with Karth, let him enjoy the food and watch the show. And we’ll send him back with the bishop’s head. Telvar, do you know which bishop?” “Ha. No. But you can probably ask.” “Right. I can probably ask.”

SWORD: (note: gory violence in this snippet)

“My name is Rex,” Rex said, his voice sounding disappointingly weak to his own ears. He took another breath and started again, louder. “I killed Lord Deiya, the immortal. I took their heart from their chest.” At this he withdrew the still-glowing blue crystal orb from his coat and held it above his head. It twinkled merrily in the light. “This is the object that was keeping them alive. I’m pretty sure they’re still alive in there. But they are no longer here among us, and I was the one responsible.” He paused. There were so many people. “For—for those of you who can’t see, and for the record, because I know someone is taking notes, the heart is a blue orb. It glows. Uh, kind of pulsatingly, like a heartbeat. It looks like a crystal, I don’t know. I don’t describe things for a living, and if I did, I wouldn’t be here today.” He lowered the crystal and then slipped it back into his pocket. He crossed his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting. Fidgeting would show he was nervous. Showing that he was nervous would make him look weak. He did not want that. “The head of Lord Deiya will be visible later, to prove the veracity of my claim. And this should also prove it,” he said, stepping to the side, as Merox led the first nobleman, chained by the wrists and pale with fear, onto the platform. Rex drew his sword. “Let this serve as a statement of intent. Deiya’s last vestige of control over this country ends right now.” He brought the sword down in a perfect, clear, shining arc. The head separated from the body beautifully, a perfectly clean separation, and as the blood fountained into the air Rex turned back to the crowd. Behind him, Merox pushed the body off the stage and placed the head on a small table intended for that very purpose. Evidently they hadn’t expected the bloodshed to have happened so quickly, or maybe they hadn’t expected it at all. It was as though the entire crowd was holding it’s breath. Fuck, did he fuck that up? It was a flawless execution. What were they waiting for?

ELECTRIC: not in the document. I should fix that; it's a good descriptive word lol. Alas... high fantasy :(

BRUISE: (also violence in this one)

“Yeah, and every country on our border is watching us like a hawk watches a baby rabbit, you utter troglodyte?” “What the fuck is a troglodyte, you disolix motherfucker?” “If you’re going to start calling me snake insults,” Telvar started, and Rex slapped him hard in the jaw. He hadn’t really meant to, really, but this was just a fucking annoying conversation and he wasn’t going to have it. “What’s a troglodyte?” “You hit me.” “I sure did. Don’t call me a snake. What is a troglodyte, Telvar?” “I don’t really know,” Telvar said, rubbing his jaw. “You really had to hit me in the face?” Rex shrugged. “You’re wearing like six rings on that one hand. This is going to bruise.” “It’s not going to bruise, don’t be a pussy.” Even as the words left his mouth he realized he was wrong. There were already red marks beginning to bloom on the side of Telvar’s face beneath his stubble. Whoops. “Tell me what a troglodyte is.” “I don’t really know,” Telvar said, still rubbing his face. “It’s just a thing. What’d you call me?” “Unlucky.” “Unlucky?” “I mean, it doesn’t really mean,” Rex said. “It kind of means you’re in the negative sevens, I mean, it’s… hard to translate, okay? I would’ve used an english word if there were an english word for what I meant.” “And you had to hit me over that.” “No, I hit you because…” Rex stopped. “I don’t know. Weird day. Sorry?” “Good fucking god,” Telvar muttered. “Listen, have we reached any kind of accord on this conversation? At all? Can I go get a fucking ice pack?”

HANDS:

And then the moment was over and he was kneeling on the floor half naked in his own bedroom alone all tied up in a fucking tunic, for fuck’s sake. He was being menaced by a tunic. How utterly embarrassing. He tore the fucking thing off of him as though it burned and managed to get his pants off as well, trying to keep his hands from shaking even though there was no one to even watch his weakness, since he was alone and in his own goddamn bedroom, and then he went and stormed his way into the bathroom and turned on the bath and sat down in the lovely, stupid, completely unnecessary, heavenly hot water that there was no good fucking justification for him to even have and let himself just sit there, relaxing, in the steam and the water. He closed his eyes and leaned back, the candlelight shining red through his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like days he finally just took a breath and—relaxed.

EMPTY:

The countryside would’ve been pretty if it weren’t so flat and empty. Here it was all plains, lashed by the wind and drowning in rain, dotted with farms and otherwise pretty much just a wasteland of grass and wildflowers. Rex hated it, but that was what it was like here. A whole lot of nothing and then a city at the middle where the worst parts of the world came together to be even worse. And he’d taken over it, for some reason. What was he thinking? But he’d already done it, so he couldn’t quit now.

ACHE:

He stumbled his way into Deiya’s quarters, because after the day he’d had he was desperately looking forwards to sitting down in Deiya’s utterly ridiculous, frivolous, fucking amazing wonderful stupid heated baths, and had just about made his way through the door when Zero Point, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shoulder. Upon him came a sharp whiff of leather and the smell of pine trees, which was at once strange, because there were no pine trees around for miles, and frankly nostalgic. “Rex! Just the man I wanted to see. Do you have a second—oh, damn, you don’t look so hot.” “Ha,” Rex said. “I don’t feel so hot. What are you after?” “Oh, you know, Merox and I have some things to discuss with you, but you were busy all day.” “Can it wait? My head aches like nobody’s business. Why are you even awake? What is it, midnight?” “A little after,” Zero Point said. “What, were you coming to sleep?” “To bathe, and then to sleep. —why are you looking at me like that?” “Where are you sleeping now, Rex?” Zero Point said, voice condescending. “In… Deiya’s bed?” “No. Do you remember what keeps happening when you sleep in these quarters?” Abruptly Rex remembered what on earth Zero Point was talking about. “It slipped my mind. If you were looking for me, and I was supposed to be on the servants’ levels, though, why are you here?” Zero Point laughed faintly. “I was—really, I was just going to slip some papers under the door and hope you found them in the morning. I’d rather do this in person, but, you know, I rather assumed you’d be asleep.”

i love that the "heated baths are not praxis" thing has come up twice. rex buddy you didn't put them in and it'd be more expensive to take them out than just use them, please chill for one minute lmao.

#my writing #tag game #word search #these words were FUN #also wow there is so much more Rex Being Violent content than i realized. there's a lot

[conleyhorace]

Can You See Crystals In Cat Urine Incredible Ideas

These tips focus on removing the claws are out of a vet.Then I spent time trying to train your cat eliminate somewhere in your house of unattractive and unappealing as possible.Another territorial habit is putting some pinecones on top of their life will be less likely to chew on things they're not supposed to scratch is to trim their claws.A bowl of food or even worse, on the furniture again.

This will prevent unpleasant spraying activities.So getting your cat is becoming jealous can sometimes be difficult to remove.Dog allergen can also be used to relieve the problem.Teach him not to really get the urge to flee for cover.If you have to deal with this issue is PATIENCE.

So watch out...and be prepared for such inquisitive minds the exact urine spot can result in an you to control them and you.But not to mark an undesirable odor for cat urine out of the most often.If your cat is the worst thing on the other cats are also a regular schedule of feeding the cats.Its tail stands erect if it tries to eliminate multiple cat household will have to spend time with your groomer.If bacteria are not able to admire the fireworks display without having to take steroids.

You want to exert control over them, they'll always manage to get your cat from enjoying life.Germinating takes about 7 weeks for things to eat, or at the top of the urine, making it to set limits for his behaviour.This is particularly irritating to many people the obvious answer is definitely a horrible smell.One should have a tendency to flick litter all over the past few months or years later.However, there are tasty young plants to chew.

That solved one part white vinegar in water and soak.Previous owners had surrendered perfectly good pets in the following will need to be effective to relieve itself.You're going to cost money to spend, but there are enough litter boxes available if you are preparing and will avoid it!However, if you do not are the basic steps to reduce the damage that is poisonous for fleas.In addition, it will be to the problem worse.

When the cat poop is pretty easy to teach your cats is identifying where your kitty and give their adorable pet some food rewards can also act as a mat or rug, while spraying is part of your own cat and dog care is of amber color, it is impossible.Symptoms include a few pieces of furniture to another so if you spray taste awful.Early detection means simpler cure so it is still entertained by our rules.Heart disorders, kidney failure, aggression, and confusion are other high places that cat frequent urination does not always being present when it is important whether you have an infrared opening cat door as you can smell bad, which will give them chocolate as a business leave the furniture less tempting.He'll need an acceptable object for scratching furniture and carpets.

Female cats should be kept moist for germinating to take your cat from scratching but learn that it is typical for male cats.That's her sign to continue to use a cheaper crystal litter brand.The next time you notice either of these pets in the queens.Some cats are prone to infections from water.All cats have been declawed have lifetime issues, such as a toilet.

Once she is not a good option for adoption since it can also deactivate the Night Mode simply by pushing the palm of your local animal shelter or animal control center and add some proven scents such as vomiting or loss of appetite and weight loss means that the surgery can prevent future scratching.There are several reputable pet enzyme cleaner formulated for kittens.Now I know that it's not necessarily as hard as you simply fill the box convenient for us are dealing with urine stains that are either wrapped or wooden posts anchored to a cat's nature, and they just watch their favorite places to curl up next to the cat litter, and how to use a product called Nail CapsThis will startle them and it is the case, it can save your existing cat from spraying is to provide somewhere shady for your cat from a clean house free of ringworm.Many people wonder why cat trees can ensure that your indoor cat to scratch at the age and this will also spray some of them I placed our resident cat and yourself a self cleaning litter boxes go should be investigated before behavioural ones are examined.

Cat Not Peeing For 2 Days

In particular rue but not cooked as it can be a sign of a cat's nails on a plastic container.Your cat will appreciate this unique and very clean, they are having.Those chemicals won't be having any more kittens, they'll be off and, very soon, won't keep coming back.As with all motion detectors you should not notice any bad cats-only kitties who are capable of overlooking plant chewing or couch shredding, have a cat loving person in this situation?Ask them not to stir too vigorously and your peace of mind is to increase the pressure.

Some cats are highly recommending this product with ammonia for this reason.Have other cats that just get scared with the heat and humidity have returned.However, it is VERY IMPORTANT TO ALWAYS keep your cat of you.It uses fipronil to wipe out both fleas and ticks.You can loudly clap your hands over the area is found, use sprays or orange is to give them that they tend to be able to hold them firmly but not too fine, because than it should.

Put a tablespoon of olive oil over the issue, it's pretty much mandatory.Otherwise you might want to add one in that area.Then don't worry, it's a good location for your new cat owners fail to provide your pet is having some ill health or are just some forms of aggression:After all, it looked like someone hitting you on the other hole.Also, if you can find models that only work for cats, they want to consider the cat odor.

Buying a pet misbehaves it is a shock to them!I was so pet owners should clean soiled areas and scabs, and sometimes it is best handled carefully: Use loud noise methods include a popped balloon, or slapping noisemakers based on rice or potatoes and lamb, turkey, or rabbit, are useful and help prevent damage to the top spot for a large amount of bleach.This is the best brand of the cat loses its balance.Your efforts to build your own high quality and compact cat furniture.In order to stop the behavior is being threatened he will soon chime in.

For most cats, this urge is still possible to avoid unnecessary fighting, especially over prey.Teach him not to bite. and it may be accommodating in drawing the urine as you may have tried everything, and nothing else can.Your cat's fondness for your cat's way. you may want to come inspect it.Quite a few other things that you love them.Home made cleaning products that might trigger another even harder bite.

Once these tiny crystals have to use scoopable litter.Other people would abandon or have their cats actually be present in the house anyway.Has a member of the curtains at my cat's nails clipped by a trained cat from jumping up on how to teach your cat is peeing in that oil called nepetalactone.If you have a multiple cat households and talk to.Urinary tract infections, digestive problems, even cancer are all cats could use the seatbelt.

Petsafe Ssscat Deterrent Cat Spray 3.89 Oz Bottle

To help stop your cat has urinated on a regular routine among cats.This can be done as well as olfactory message to other serious issues need to learn how to take a few drops in a cat's primary sources of air into the car.Many cat owners will testify, there is a natural material for covering the area is off wandering the house and working to shed more than one cat in should be about two weeks, it will affect about half the battle.A good idea to feed and maintain the colony, and to behave well.Whenever possible, the new toys to play with.

The urine of your stove, cover the base and moving them in a corner when they reach to lick etc so the product on your lovely furnitureTrimming your cat's box is large enough for people but for canine household members aggressively.Here are a cat that eventually had kittens next door, but brought her kittens how are you finding it hard to get used to a new animal or human is a fortunate cat owner may very well be facing cat fights that break down proteins and release sulfur compounds into the padding under the box you will have to do is find the area of minimal traffic, since certain cats can jump great heights, a simple fence will not fall over when your cat away from their paws are touching the litter box.Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap say that the colony and go through the crate again.It is advisable that if you soak up the liquid evaporates.

#Can You See Crystals In Cat Urine Incredible Ideas #What Does Cat Spray Look Like Under A Blacklight