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aggressive-almond-cookie · 1 year

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mental health breakthroughs maybe (really, really long and lots of weird rambling about my mental landscape)

I have always kind of viewed myself as multiple. Not in like, a plurality/systems kind of way, but more in an Inside Out kind of way, where there were a bunch of pieces of me trying their best to keep me running smoothly. But they weren’t mood based, they were almost like, memory based. Like imagine if any time a Core Memory was created, that memory became an active part of me and had an active say in how I, the whole person, was run. There’s hundreds of them. Thousands. Some of them similar enough to merge together and some of them breaking apart into more specific pieces sometimes. A lot of people refer to their inner child or their inner critic but I have a whole ‘inner child department’ made up of every instance child me has experienced a strong emotion.

For a long time I only ever felt them very vaguely but I certainly felt them. They didn’t have names or even static identities but I always referred to them as just ‘the part of me who wants this vs the part of me that wants that.’ In my angsty teenage journalings I would use this structure to describe copious amounts of inner conflict that I was experiencing and write back and forth ‘conversations’ between the parts of myself and what they were saying. Sometimes I would draw them as little creatures trying to tug me in one direction or another.

The first time I remember trying to directly work with these pieces, I was in college (maybe it was shortly after college, 2009~ish), in a bad relationship, dealing with complicated feelings, and I thought to myself, look, there’s definitely a part of me who is very passionate about being a strong and compassionate and loving leader, who really does want what’s best for me and also believes strongly in our ultimate potential and the path forward to get there. But there is also definitely a much more dominant part of me who absolutely just needs someone to die for, who needs to, for whatever reason, have someone to latch onto, follow to the ends of the earth, to work herself sick trying to achieve the goals of, who’s self-satisfaction is measured in the amount of pain she can put herself in for a cause, and this is the part of me that keeps getting me into trouble, into unhealthy relationships, into situations where I can’t say no, who is ruining friendships by just getting way too intense about them, kiss one another/die for eachother, etc. So maybe what I need to do is stick the tail in the snake’s mouth. Maybe what I need to do is get that self-sacrificing part of me to swear fealty to the compassionate leader part of me, and it would solve all my problems.

So I did this whole cute little ritual, where I fasted for a day, baked bread from scratch, and used the breaking/eating of that bread as the way to seal the pact between the two sides. And it did seem to work for a while. As long as it was in the front of my consciousness, whenever I would catch myself falling back into self-sacrificing mindsets I would reach out for the leader-bit of me that would always have something kind and compassionate and encouraging to say. The two parts would have conversations. It was very healing.

It didn’t, of course, solve all my problems. As I learned later in life, coping with ADHD for me is all about managing novelty, because novelty can propel me to do incredible, amazing things for as long as it feels new and exciting. And as the novelty faded from this, I fell out of the habit of checking in with the leader-bit of myself. But throughout the time I was paying attention to it, I feel like something in my head was rewired enough to have some longstanding effects. (If nothing else, the idea of throwing myself in front of hazards as a display of affection definitely lost a substantial amount of appeal.)

But later in life, I would brush across this technique again; the concept of ‘reparenting yourself’ used a similar method, in which you get in touch with your inner child, figure out what their needs are, and offer them the compassion and attention that they needed back then. This kind of therapy always worked well for me, when my brain would let me focus on it long enough to do it effectively, because it already felt very natural to me to see myself in pieces and parts.

But then I would hit the.... therapeutic gold vein, or something.

I was doing some reflections, prompted by an online workshop I was in, on the nature of perfectionism and how it impacts my life, and in my usual style, depicted perfectionism as this monstrous creature who will NOT let me take my little Creative Force Creature in the creative fields to play with her until I ‘get strong enough’ ie level up my art/technical/coding/whatever skills. I can’t seem to reason with her, her standards for ‘strong enough’ are way too high. I can spend a lot of time and energy trying to talk her into letting us pass. I can sometimes, with a lot of effort, get her to yield a little to us, letting us play on the outskirts of the fields, within her line of sight, for a little while, so that she can swoop in the second it looks like we might fail before we can experience the pain of failure, or prevent us from getting too vulnerable with strangers who might have less-than-stellar things to say about our work, inevitably crushing us.

The thing is, she really does have my best interests at heart. She, a part of me, really just wants to protect the little Creative Force Creature, another part of me, from any further trauma. She takes her job very seriously.

And while sometimes, after a lot of effort, I can get her to yield an inch or two for us to play in, it’s easier to instead sneak off with the Creative Force Creature and plot and scheme and talk about our ideas-- not actually going into the creative fields to do them, but just sitting and talking about them, that is perfectly safe, bouncing ideas back and forth off each other, getting more and more excited about them. And with that excitement, with that spiral of passion, the expanding bubble of joy, the Creature grows-- bigger and stronger and faster and winged, until we look at each other and realize, collectively, that there is nothing stopping me from hopping onto her back and us dashing right under the feet of the Perfectionism Monster before she can even notice, off into the fields and playing as much as we can before she realizes what has happened.

I was relaying this to my girlfriend, about how this is working for me, how instead of putting effort into fighting and arguing with the perfection-bit of myself, I can instead rally more playful bits of myself together and use that energy to sneak past the vicious bits of myself, and she, who studies all sorts of different forms of therapy, tells me, “it sounds like you’re doing IFS.”

Y’all. This is a real thing.

youtube

This is an actual thing that people do. Like this isn’t just a little game I play with myself to cope, they aren’t just silly stories I tell myself to help my life make sense; this is an actual valid psychotherapy technique with science backing and everything.

The video sums it up better (and there’s a whole playlist if you want to go deeper), but the basic ideas behind this are that 1) we are in fact psychologically multiple because different situations in life literally call for us to be different people (think the person you are with your friends vs the person you are at work) so different parts of you do develop throughout your life and ‘come online’ when they sense you are in a situation where their knowledge on how to best handle that situation is needed. 2) THERE ARE NO BAD PARTS, every part has the best interest of your core self in mind, they just have different ideas of what the right thing to do is, based on the experiences that they had (and many of these parts developed when we were very, very young and didn’t exactly have the most sound sense of logic, some of them developed in reaction to the pain of those traumatized parts and seek to protect them, and some of them even developed in reaction to those protective parts because they were too protective and you just get layers and layers, it’s a lot), and 3) the core of ourselves, IE who we “truly” are, is innately compassionate, connected, creative, courageous, and a bunch of other ‘C’ words.

So the basic technique of this involves opening conversations with those parts, and exploratively, non-judgementally learning out what they need, what they are feeling, the why’s behind what they are doing, and giving them the careful attention and listening and understanding and emotional support, with the eventual goal of developing a sense of trust and cooperation between each part and your core self.

And this just. so innately feels so natural to me; it’s what I have already been trying to do. It’s so surreal and validating that there’s actually terms for this, structure and techniques for this. I feel like I’ve often been told that such ‘soft’ statements like ‘there are no bad parts’ and ‘we are innately compassionate’ are just kind of wishful thinking and naive hopeful things that I wanted to believe but never actually felt allowed to believe (if I wanted to be taken seriously by anyone), but the science for this working, at least for certain people, appears to be there, at least as much as we can science anything about the nebulous human brain.

But the main thing this reinforces, and what I think I really needed to hear, is that my core self is in fact capable of being the leader, coordinator part that the rest of my parts need and are searching for. That my core self is capable of providing the compassion and support that my wounded pieces need to heal, that my protective pieces need to feel allowed to relax, that my creative pieces need to thrive.

Obviously this doesn’t apply to every facet of life-- my core self cannot materialize food for my body or address the lack of dopamine for my brain-- but I think my core self, when working cooperatively with all my other pieces, is the most capable of figuring out how to get those needs met from a calm and clear-headed place, not one driven by the anxiety and fear that tends to shun a lot of viable options or is too focused on the ideal to make room for other possibilities.

Anyway, to bring this all back around to the old Perfection Monster metaphor: when I do manage to sneak off with the Creative Force Creature to frolic in the fields of creativity, it works. We have a lot of fun. The creative bursts that I have are all-consuming and relentless and potent and prolific and free of fear. But eventually the Perfection monster does catch up. She herds us back to a safe place. And while the passion is still there, trying to utilize it to any satisfying measure in the tiny ‘allowed’ corner of the creative field is.. highly unsatisfying. But we try anyway. We burn out pretty quickly and sulk back home and sleep for months.

Worse even, sometimes the Creative Force Creature does get hurt. Sometimes she does experience the pain of failure or receives a negative comment, and hell hath no fury like a vindicated perfectionism monster, wailing, screaming, crying viciously that she told me so, and how dare I, she’s hurt and it’s my fault, I am so irresponsible, I am absolutely the worst for daring to defy her, next time I should listen, and really I should just never, ever try this ever again.

It knocks me back, sometimes for a very long time. Never forever. But it does feel like it takes a lot longer to recover each time, and the periods that I feel like I can ‘get away with it’ are shorter and shorter. Only very rarely does anything I create actually make it out into the wild these days, because I have to both finish it and get it out there before I‘m caught.

Sneaking past the Perfection Monster works, but it’s not sustainable. It’s not going to build trust between myself and the perfection monster, it’s just going to make it more wary, more anxious, more upset, more vigilant.

Some part of me knows this. That part of me is my core self, who is innately understanding of the struggles of the perfection monster. The ‘me’ that I keep talking about, as it turns out, is still pretty blended with other parts of myself that need to be peeled back. I managed to peel back the perfectionism bit, step back from it, talk to it and find what motivates it, but I think now I need to figure out what bit of me thinks that ‘sneaking past’ and deepening the rift between myself and the perfectionism bit is more important than trying to repair that relationship. It feels like a combination of things-- the bit of me that is just overwhelmingly stressed out by the passage of time and how old I am getting and that I don’t have time to address every single tiny bit of what is bothering me and just need to start making stuff. The bit of me that just believes it’s simply impossible to repair that relationship, is so bitter and is so tired of trying. There’s a lot here, and I’m not going to ramble about it all forever, but it feels like I’m making progress.

More importantly, down another fork in the path of exploring this, I stumbled into touch with a very raw part of myself that I suspect might be a key piece from a key event that may have cascaded into the chain of psychological events that cut and bled and calcified into a huge part of my anxiety around creating art. If feels like an absolute miracle that I’m able to talk to her at all without a million protective pieces getting in the way but the channels of communication are wide open and she’s so receptive and I am like, playing her songs I know she would like and telling her everything she needs to hear and I think she actually believes me. I am so overwhelmed with love and affection for this young and fiery piece of me, I feel so hopeful, so playful, and in communicating with her I feel like we’re rewriting the past, like the physical events still happened but this time she had the support she needed to heal quickly, it never scarred, it never festered, we moved on from it and continued to bloom.

I know I’m still in the novelty-infatuated phase of this discovery but if brief periods of this kind of thing significantly healed me before, there’s no reason it can heal me now.

#personal #mental health #long #IFS #Integrated Family Systems #adhd #creative struggles #sorry this got REALLY REALLY LONG and probably is only interesting to me but #it feels important to document

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ghooostbaby · 3 years

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deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true.

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is).

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional.

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

#wangxian #mdzs #mdzs meta #holds wei wuxian close and murmurs into his hair 'no one knows you like i know you baby'

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theotherhufflepuff · 3 years

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Simon Snow Trilogy Tarot Cards...

Ok so, a little while ago I saw this frankly stunning artwork by @vkelleyart and I started thinking about the Major Arcana archetypes and how characters from my favourite book series could fit into them.

So I made this list. It took a lot of thought and I’m still not 100% sure on some of them but I have explained my thought process for each card.

I don’t know how much crossover there is in the Venn diagram of “Simon Snow fans” and “tarot readers” but I’d love to hear your opinions and/or alternative suggestions (be respectful though, obviously). I’ve left “visual prompts” for most of the cards explaining what they looked like in my imagination and if anyone wants to draw any of these (or their own alternative version!) please tag me; it would make my day! I can’t draw for toffee so I am 1000% never gonna try to illustrate any of them myself.

List under the cut because it is loooong.

Spoilers ahead for the whole series!

0 The Fool - Shepard - Shepard just follows magickal creatures around and says “yes” to everything... he is the pure embodiment of the Fool archetype to me; care-free, innocent... prepared for everything and yet totally clueless. Visual prompt: Shepard about to (attempt to) step into the fog as he follows a fairy into the forest.

1 The Magician - Penelope - “Penelope Bunce is a fierce magician, I don’t mind saying” Baz, at least once in each book. Penny never worries about not having the power or words available to do whatever she wants; she is comfortable in her power and it is always there, ready to be wielded however she sees fit. Visual prompt: Penny wearing her Stevie Nicks cape, standing by a chalkboard in the classic “Magician” pose, ring clearly held aloft.

2 The High Priestess - Dr Mitali Bunce - Dr Bunce is possibly a more formidable magician than her daughter. Highly intelligent, straightforward and, let’s be honest, judgemental. But she does have all the answers. Visual prompt: Dr Bunce carrying around her laptop, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.

3 The Empress - Lucy Salisbury - Lucy exudes the nurturing, Earth Mother vibes that are central to the Empress archetype. She saw the best in everyone and all she wanted was to love Davy and live with him in their cottage with her chickens and their child. Visual prompt: Lucy, barefoot and pregnant, feeding the chickens outside of their cottage.

4 The Emperor - Lamb - This is one of the ones I’m not totally sure about. I went through a few different ideas but ultimately settled on Lamb as the “Vampire King of Las Vegas”. He is an imposing figure, ruling his city with an iron fist; if you are in his favour, Vegas is your playground, but cross him and you will suffer the consequences. Visual prompt: Lamb sits on an antique chair in his opulent suite at the Katherine, the lights of night time Vegas visible through the window behind him.

5 The Hierophant - The Mage - Again, this one took some thought and I’m sure some people will disagree with this interpretation... I’m not completely sold on it myself. The Mage was all about reforming the old traditions of the World of Mages and he amassed a following by doing so. But he turned out to be somewhat of a false prophet; abusing his power to oppress those he deemed “the enemy”. Visual prompt: The Mage in his Robin Hood costume, sitting at his desk at the top of the Weeping Tower, surrounded by his piles of banned books.

6 The Lovers - Simon and Baz - Obviously. As stated at the top of this post, I love @vkelleyart’s version of this card, but there are a lot of scenes across the series that could be used to illustrate this archetype. I personally always love to see the original “and then he kisses me” scene.

7 The Chariot - Fiona Pitch - I struggled with this one a bit and I don’t really think that this is the ideal version. But the image of Fiona, rolling up to Blackfriars bridge in her vintage sports car to rescue Baz from the Numpties really stuck with me so that’s what I went with, for lack of a better idea.

8 Strength - Ebb - Ebb is often dismissed and underestimated by other magicians but she is wicked powerful. But more than that, the Strength card is about inner strength, self control and the wisdom to know when to fight, and when to rest. Ebb is highly intuitive about the people - and goats - around her and is always careful not to talk about her twin brother, only conceding that she knows of his presence once a year and never giving in to the temptation to talk directly to him. Ebb saw the war coming and knew that she could probably end it all by herself with the power she had; but she also knew that she didn’t want that and she had the strength to say no, to eschew the expectations the rest of the World of Mages placed upon her and live quietly, instead. Visual prompt: Ebb in the hills behind the school with the goats, she wears a flower crown that the Dryad made her.

9 The Hermit - Agatha - the Hermit eschews the outside world in order to take an inner journey of self discovery, knowing that this is the only way to find real answers and achieve real growth. Agatha, jaded by the World of Mages, took herself off to California, leaving her wand at home. She didn’t know what she wanted but she knew it wasn’t magic. Visual prompt: Agatha sits on the beach at twilight by a small campfire, Lucy the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel by her side.

10 The Wheel of Fortune - The Crucible - The Crucible’s decisions, like the Wheel’s, are unpredictable and inevitable. Once it’s happened, you’re stuck with the consequences - sometimes bad (being stuck with a toff vampire who hates you) and sometimes good (getting the best room in Mummers house).

11 Justice - Natasha Grimm-Pitch - Natasha needed justice to find peace; her whole story is about justice. She was swift to act when the vampires attacked Watford, dispatching them without hesitation. When she came through the veil to find Baz and ask him to bring her murderer to justice, she knew that would also provide some closure for him, too, both for her death, and for his. Visual prompt: Natasha Grimm-Pitch appearing from beyond the veil, looking for Baz and finding Simon.

12 The Hanged One - Nicodemus - The Hanged One is about feeling stuck, but also about finding peace where you are when there’s nothing you can do about it. Nicodemus chose to cross over for eternal life, but he was stricken from the book; his (considerable) magic effectively taken from him and his fangs removed. He was stuck in between - not a full vampire, not a magician; he exists on the fringes of both communities. He got himself there and then he had to figure out how to get by, carve out a place for himself in order to survive. Visual prompt: Nicodemus sits in the tree in the garden of his mother’s house in South London, waiting for Ebb to come and sit on the empty bench beneath him.

13 Death - [scene on the Great Lawn] - Ok, so.. this might need some explaining. My immediate thought for this card was that it should be the Humdrum but Death is all about clearing out the old junk in your life that doesn’t serve you in order to make space for the new. And the Humdrum isn’t making space for anything. So I was thinking about times that has happened in the story and I thought about how the death of the Mage made room for real progress and an end to the war with the old families. Visual prompt: Penny and Baz (literally) run into a fleeing Agatha on the Great Lawn; the Weeping Tower looms in the background, the Mage and Simon visible through the blown-out stained glass windows.

14 Temperance - Simon and the Humdrum - Temperance is, as you might expect, about balance and harmony. Simon used so much magic at once that he couldn’t control it and it tore holes in the magickal atmosphere. Simon had to fill the Simon-shaped hole to restore equalibrium and stop the magickal firmament from collapsing altogether. Visual prompt: Simon kneeling in the Weeping Tower, pouring his magic into the Humdrum as he fades away.

15 The Devil - Smith Smith-Richards - The Devil is about feeling trapped by temptations in your life, often because we’re afraid of what we would do with the freedom we’d have if we let them go. Which got me thinking about Smith-Richards (that name never gets any less ridiculous) and all the magicians who were taken in by the temptation of “fixing” their magic. But it was a false promise and those magicians who narrowly escaped taking Smith-Richards’ spell were all freed from the idea of their magic being “broken” in the first place. Visual prompt: Smith-Richards (looking like the guy who would be cast to play Simon in the Netflix series) standing on a stage in the packed-out White Chapel, rapt audience hanging on his every word.

16 The Tower - The Humdrum - Originally I wanted to use the Weeping Tower for this card because the imagery is on point but the meaning doesn’t match. The Tower is about absolute destruction, the crumbling of something you thought core to your being. The Humdrum steals magic and renders magicians homeless because of it. The Tower is about having to start again from the ground up - just as the Grimms did when all the magic was drained from Hampshire. Visual prompt: The Humdrum, wearing Simon’s face, stands in the grounds of Pitch Manor, laughing. (I have always thought of the holes looking like a burn in a piece of paper - sort of glowing and smouldering at the edges as it eats away the atmosphere. I know the holes can’t actually be seen - the Normals would freak out - but that is imagery I would use here)

17 The Star - Lady Ruth’s candles - The Star is about hope and healing after the devastation of the Tower. Lady Ruth’s candles were a symbol of hope that kept her going when she thought she had lost her children. They provided comfort and, at the end when it became clear the Lucy was gone, the healing of knowing that her child had finally found his way home to his family. Visual prompt: Lady Ruth’s candles in front of a window, a bright star can be seen through the window.

18 The Moon - Agatha and Simon - So, the Moon is all about examining blurred lines between illusion and reality - nothing looks totally clear in the moonlight. It reminded me of how Simon never really seemed to have a clear view of his feelings for Agatha and what their relationship was. When he properly examined his feelings, he found that he didn’t love Agatha and was going through the motions because he thought it was what other people expected of him. Agatha was doing the same. It also brought to mind Simon, going out of his mind worrying about Baz when he was missing - as well as basically every other thought Simon ever has about Baz before Christmas Eve 2015 - and somehow mistaking it for hating him?? Simon is not stupid but sometimes he’s real dumb. Visual prompt: Agatha and Simon meet on the ramparts, both looking for Baz, and break up.

19 The Sun - Simon - This card is all about innocence, optimism and joy. Nothing about this series personifies this more than Simon flying above Shepard’s truck in America, feeling free and hopeful about the future for the first time in over a year. Visual prompt: Shepard’s truck drives through the vast empty desert, the sun beating down. Simon flies above the truck, joy on his face.

20 Judgement - Niamh and Agatha - Ok, this one was hard to figure out and this is maybe not the right solution, but I was very stuck. Judgement is about self improvement through self reflection. As a small twist on that theme; Niamh and Agatha challenge each other’s view of themselves and their interactions with the world around them. Visual prompt: Agatha and Niamh, sweating to death in Niamh’s “shitty Ford Fiesta” (I’m very salty about that line; my Ford Fiesta is lovely and it has aircon). Niamh is frowning, obviously.

21 The World - Simon, Baz, Penny and Shepard - The World is about completeness, the ending of a story, fulfilment and belonging. At the end of AWTWB, Simon has finally found his biological family, he is starting to accept that his boyfriend and his found family love him for who he is, magic or no, and he can finally start to imagine a future for himself. Baz has learned new information about his vampirism, Penny has found new confidence and Shepard is finally fully accepted into the group. Visual prompt: Baz, Penny and Shepard sit on Simon’s sofa (possibly still pink from Baz’s spell, possibly he spelled it navy blue again) Simon sits on the floor. They’re all eating leftover sandwiches and cake from Lady Ruth’s.

#carry on #carry on rainbow rowell #rainbow rowell #simon snow #simon snow trilogy #wayward son #any way the wind blows #awtwb #tarot #tarot cards #major arcana #baz pitch #Penelope Bunce #shepard love #snowbaz

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

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Lighting Up Your World

Episode 17

Summary: Gang-tae and Mun-yeong continue their road trip, finding themselves and helping others along the way.

Author's note: Here is part 1 of the weekend fic updates! I tried my best to make these interesting and multilayered channeling my inner Jo Yong. The focus is on MY/GT and their healing but I also wanted them to heal others too on this journey so we do meet an OC. If I had time this could be something that continues each weekend, but work and life starts again very soon so I won’t make any promises but I had a really fun time writing this and trying to plot out the story so it felt familiar to IOTNBO with conflicts and resolutions, only they all happen within the chapter lol. Without further ado, here’s episode 17 ;) *Play “Lighting up Your World*

The mood shifts drastically after Sang-tae's departure, they're both sulky and a bit flabbergasted by his sudden decision to leave, this was their first trip as a newly fledged family, it felt monumental, like a rite of passage of sorts; but by the morning they've accepted his choice and set sights on their next location. Gang-tae lays in disbelief thinking about how much his brother has changed, how much their relationship itself, has shifted.

Thanks in part to her, his eyes land on her sleeping form, gorgeous in the low lighting of the camping van.

She had crashed into their lives like a bulldozer, hell bent on having him, but only as an object- something to capture and conquer. Somewhere along the way, despite their unconventional start; love had blossomed. It wasn't an easy start and it took time to nurture but he couldn't imagine his life without her now, their little family.

I love you Moon Gang-tae.

She loved him. Meant it with every fiber of her being, it was detectable in her eyes, swirled in the pools of her captivating eyes. If that wasn't enough her actions proclaimed her love, never turning her back on him despite his sometimes despicable behavior and words that cut her. Running back to defend him from the one person she despised the most, uncaring of her own fate. He hadn't known he could experience love like this, all-consuming devotion. Not until she entered his life.

A smile blooms on his face, it all started with a stab. He knew others wouldn't understand- Jae-su's disbelieving face flashed in his memory- but it made perfect sense for them, she who was so jagged and broken when he met her and him so complacent and selfless, saving others even at his own detriment.

I met your mother after she stabbed me in the hand. Then months later she stabbed me in my other hand.

His chuckles fill the tight space of the van, until he hears a hoarse voice, "What are laughing at?"

With a small jump he turns to face her, adorable baffled look on her face, and he sits up to better see her.

"I was thinking about us."

She looks at him deeply, searching his eyes before continuing, "And that made you laugh? Were you thinking of good things?"

"Well... I was thinking about how we met and how we would tell that story to our future son who looks like me." He responds sheepishly, heart singing at the soft look that forms on her face, that happens often now, her blushing every time he mentions their future. He makes sure to do it often, for both of them. After wrongly viewing their relationship as ill-fated, it seems more important than ever to say the words out loud, breathe them into the world and give them life. Mun-yeong and Gang-tae are destined.

He can’t help but imagine her round with his, no their child, swollen belly protruding from her slim frame, as she demands his attention and curses him for her condition. It would be as beautiful as it was terrifying.

All in due time.

After a few seconds of sustained eye contact she finally snaps out of her daze, craftily switching the subject to escape her own unease, “How are you really feeling about Oppa leaving? Do you want to end the trip and follow him?”

For a moment, he wonders who is the person and what have they done to his Mun-yeong? The woman he first met lacked empathy for others, disregarded their feelings and trampled all over their boundaries; she was a new person, reborn. No, unpeeled, showing another layer to her personality. Considerate and caring with him and with Sang-tae, even putting them first at the expense of her own desires.

Swiftly removing the blanket covering his torso, he strides toward her on the elevated bed, reaching out to caress her head, she is aptly watching his every move head subconsciously leaning into his tender hold.

With his eyes firmly locked on her own he replies, “I...am happy. I am happy that he knows what he wants to do, he finally has a dream of his own. A dream just for him. And...I don’t want to go back. When I told you I loved you, that was my promise to keep moving forward, no matter what.”

Being here, with you, that is my dream. That he leaves unsaid.

He basks in the warmth of her smile, beaming on him, shiny solely for him. His own personal sun.

“You’re so cheesy now.” She teases him playfully rolling her eyes, and he chuckles before shrugging, he’s never had a chance to be cheesy, probably has all that cheesiness packed up inside ready to come out, she is going to get it all.

Curling his hands around her small face, he draws her closer before pressing a kiss to her forehead, watching her eyelids flutter close as she sighs gently. His lips are soft on her smooth skin, nothing more than a peck, a silent thank you for being here with him. For staying.

Then he finally announces, “I know our next destination. While you were sleeping I found another spot for us.” Before she can question him he states, “It’s a surprise.”

Her groan of annoyance is music to his ears, as he rushes to the front of the van, ready for their adventure.

The sunlight brilliantly twinkles on the rippling waves of the water as he pulls up to their destination, a lake sequestered away and roughly hidden by trees and foliage, there is a quaint wooden dock leading to the watery oasis but not much less. He hums in contentment gazing at it, it is almost too peaceful to be true but they of all people deserve some peace after the hell they have been through.

Mun-yeong stumbles out of the tiny bathroom of the van, peering out the window at the view, she stares at him bewildered, “A lake?” Why did you take us to a lake?”

He shakes his head at her question, “To swim. Why else do people go to a lake?” He can hear his brother’s voice replaying in his mind, Why ask such an obvious question?

With a glare she humphs crossing her arms in a symbol that he can read all too well- I’m not doing it- before stomping away, “I’m not swimming.” He watches her back as she defiantly strides back into the small compartment.

He makes them a quick late breakfast of rice and grilled meat, scooping out a hefty amount for his grumpy girlfriend who has yet to leave the camping van. He had nagged and pleaded at the door, eager to get outside and see the lake, it was tempting especially on such a scorching day. But she had ignored all his calls, even childishly responded “I can’t hear you.” Before he had stomped away in the opposite direction, fondly irritated at her behavior.

The van door creaks open as she finally decides to exit, he pointedly does not look up, not wanting to seem too eager at her arrival after she spitefully ignored him. He pushes the food in her general direction, not making eye contact. So she sits down on the unoccupied chair to his left, he is unprepared for the breadth of naked skin he sees when she does.

With his fixed gaze on the food in his lap, the edges of his peripheral vision catch her bare legs, heeled sandals encase her foot but there is no material in sight on her legs. Just bare smooth, inviting skin.

He gulps, reaching for his water.

Drawing in a deep breath to reinforce himself, he slowly begins to raise his head, eyes traveling from her ankles to her smooth thighs, similarly naked before he stops on her torso. She is wrapped in a bathing suit, tight fitting and devastatingly distracting. The devilish suit is black and partially mesh, with her skin peeking through the stomach but solid across her breast and lower region.

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, despite his desperate swallows of water to re-hydrate his heated body. Grabbing his food, he stuffs his face with rice and meat hoping that will prevent him from begging her to let him take her back into the van and peel that suit off her and....

“I am still not swimming, but I figure I can get a nice tan at least.” She offers as away of explanation, he nods robotically, eyes still trained on the ground. Before a white bottle is forced into his vision, he jumps back in his seat, eyes finally landed on her body completely.

Unbelievable.

The glimpse he saw does nothing to prepare him for the entire picture, she looks amazing in the suit as if it was made specifically for her body, knowing her taste and monetary capabilities; the idea isn’t too far-fetched and he curses whoever gave this weapon to her. Atop the bridge of her nose sits her glossy black sunglasses, the same ones she wore when he saw her outside, a beautiful black storm cloud under falling cherry blossoms. Her hair is pulled back into a high messy bun, two braids on her side that disappear into the bun, wisps of hair that escaped the bun frame her face beautifully. In short, she looks like the cover of a high-end fashion magazine and he is at a lost for words.

His musings are prematurely interrupted by her waving something in his face, a thin container, “--Are you listening to me? Take off your shirt.”

He shakes his head, almost dropping his bowl in shock.

Only seconds away from taking another gulp of water before her request. He doesn’t miss the smirk that curls on her lips, he knew she did that on purpose.

“What? What are you talking about?” He shakily asks, pulling his thin white t-shirt protectively around himself.

She tilts her glasses down ensuring that he can see her eyes before dramatically rolling them, “You act like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“We’re outside though!”

“So what?” She fires back, looking at him, exasperation farrowing her eyebrows.

He breathes hard, their eyes locked in a heated battle, before he sighs accepting his fate, admitting to himself that he is not as opposed to the idea has he’s acting. Guilt settles in his stomach as he remembers the excitement that coursed though him as he realized that without his hyung, he would be alone with Mun-yeong. All by themselves, at given times no one around for miles. No one to hear their screams. The idea of being alone and unencumbered with her was thrilling.

In one fluid motion, he stands up and grabs the end of his shirt, carefully lifting it up and over his head. Standing in nothing but his slippers and dark blue swim trunks, the only pair he packed, unlike her who probably had endless suits of different styles and colors. In that way they were vastly different, he was practical and minimal whereas she was extravagant and larger than life.

Her eyes burned on his skin as she stood up as well, carelessly tossing her food on the table, before curling her finger at him in a seductively beckoning call, “Come closer.” Her voice was smoked honey, as if in a trance he found himself obeying, stepping forward a half step, “Closer” and closer he went until he stood directly in front of her.

She audaciously looked him up and down, tongue peeking out to swipe across the span of her pink mouth.

Then with anticipation thick in his throat he watched her hands grow closer to his body, creeping closer and closer to his skin and then they were finally on him.

He jolted at the cold. Jumping away from her hands.

“What’s wrong with you? I told you I was going to put sunscreen on you.” Her eyes narrow and he feels a blush cover his cheeks, at his red face she lets out a long drawn ahhhhhhhhhh before speaking, “Why did you think I wanted you to take your shirt off? Were you expecting me to do something else?” She lifts one perfectly threaded eyebrow at the suggestive inquiry while simultaneously moving back into his orbit to rub the sticky white cream into his stomach.

He lets himself enjoy her touch, deliberate ministrations into his skin, her face close enough for him to kiss and only a thread of control keeps him contained. Her hand strokes across his abs, fingers purposefully creeping into the crevices of his body before she trails her manicured finger down to his trunks, so close to where he wants her hand, panting now with anticipation, half hard just from her hand on his skin.

Then she stops.

Pats him on the shoulder with a clipped, “All done.” Impish look clouding her face, he glares at her departing back, the pep in her step; she knows exactly what she just did to him. The wink over her shoulder reinforcing his speculation.

Damn, she-devil.

When she begins to rubs the same sticky cream into her legs, slowly and wantonly, peering at him whilst she does it, his only solution is to run and dive straight into the water, welcoming the cool blanket that soothes the raging heat in his loins.

He swims alone for a few minutes, propelling himself back and forth in the shallow water, before he eventually feels the twinges of boredom creeping in, this was meant to be their adventure, he didn’t want to swim alone, imagining wet kisses and wandering hands under the guise of the water. All new experiences that he only wanted to share with her.

With those thoughts in mind, he silently vacates the water, footsteps light as he tiptoes to Mun-yeong, glowy and alluring from her spot on the lounge chair she pulled seemingly out of thin air. Sunglasses still shielding her eyes he waves his arm to see if they attract her attention, she lays motionless still, breathing steady and unhurried.

Perfect.

Now, knowing that she will not notice his approach, he creeps forward putting on his best imitation of a spy, avoiding twigs and leaves, anything that will alert to his presence. After a measured and timed approach, he looms over her, taking a moment to bask in her tranquil beauty. She is a goddess in that bathing suit and he wants to remember her face in this moment, in a few seconds she will be ravenous in his arms, clawing and thrashing. It is the perfect juxtaposition of her personality. A beautiful disaster.

Before he can second guess himself- maybe she was right and he did have a death wish- he grabs her, lifting her out of the lounge chair and wrapping her securely in his arms.

“YAH!” Her reaction is expeditious, nails scrapping across his arms as she tries to break free from his strong hold, he winces at the sharp burst of pain shaking her slightly to dislodge her, but her efforts do not hinder his mission. He laughs at her screams and threats, “Put me down! Gang-tae, I will kill you!” Gaining speed as he reaches the end of the dock, with a bounding leap he flies through the air, weightless, until they crash through the surface of the water. Water splashes onto the dock from their impact and his nose burns with the sudden influx of water, before he scrambles to the top, taking her now suspiciously limp body with him.

The sight that greets him when they burst to the surface, makes his body go numb with regret.

Her face is ashen, almost grey in hue, wet hair plastered to her skull. But what stands out most are her eyes, usually brimming with love and light for him, now sunken and packed with an emotion he never wanted to put there; fear.

He can feel how rapidly she is breathing, her body shaking like a leave under his hold as he keeps her afloat, the air wheezes out through her colorless lips as she begins to convulse in his arms, he is paralyzed under her visible distress.

She begins to keen, “Please, please, get me out. I need to get out!” The sorrowful plead that shatters into a scream breaks his heart into a million pieces, and with only a small hiccup he responds to her cries. Kicking his legs powerfully, swimming as quickly as he ever has in his life, arms protectively wrapped around her shuttering form until the reaches the bank.

It takes a moment to for her to recognize that they are now on land but once she does she leaps from his arms, whipping around and racing to the camping van without another word.

He is left shell-shocked.

Standing alone, wracking his brain to figure out what caused such a visceral reaction and not coming up with an adequate answer. Then he realizes that is not important, all that mattered now was reaching her and comforting her, those eyes would haunt him forever otherwise.

Dashing to her rapidly retreating form, he catches her arm, twirling her around to face him.

The fragments of his heart, shatter into even smaller pieces.

Twin trails of tear stream down her face, dripping off her chin before disappearing into the ground.

“Mun-yeong...” He vocalizes her voice like an apology.

She breaks the connection between their arms, turning once more to walk away and he can’t stand to see her walk away from him, not again, never again.

Softly capturing her hand again, he begs, “Please, tell me what I did wrong?”

Struggling to speak through her choked throat she replies, “I can’t right now. I just need to be alone for a bit, I’m not running away.”

Those words again.

He wants to hold on tighter, recalling how she had run away after uttering those words before, viciously slamming all her doors shut and pushing him out. She reads his face like a children’s book.

“I promise, I’m not running away, this time. So let me go, for now.”

Trusting her words, he releases her hand. Heart sinking as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the camping van. If the sun continues to shine, he is unaware, the dark clouds of shame and regret hanging over his forlorn head.

“When I was young, I had dreams of my mom drowning in a lake.”

His head buzzes at the confession, so intensely focused on the food sizzling on the grill he had missed her reappearance. Lowering the tongs to give her his full undivided attention as she bares another layer of Ko Mun-yeong.

“My dad... I thought he drowned my mother in a lake. And every night I would have dreams about her screaming for my help. Sometimes when I have those sleep terrors, I can see her above me, her body is dripping wet. I....” She takes a pause, sitting down in a chair further away from him and he almost cries at that small amount of distance she is placing between them.

But she is also wearing his flannel shirt, dwarfing her small stature, her fingers clutching it as if needing protection.

Following a deep breath she presses on, “I haven’t been in water since. I’m....scared. I’m sorry that I’m already ruining this trip--”

He doesn’t allow those words to settle in the air for a second before he’s out of his seat and crouching before her, he begs for permission with his eyes, and watches as she ruminates before nodding, with a sigh of relief he gathers her cold hands in his own, warming them instantly.

“You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never want to make you cry, I told you I would protect you and I let you down. I am so sorry, please forgive me.” Tears pool in his eyes, as he presses his lips to her hands a kiss following each word of apology, anguish flooding his system.

Silence fills the space between them as he continues to kiss sweet sorries into her skin before she wrangles her hands away, placing them softly on his downward chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet.

Her dark orbs are now swirled with pain, love and something inexplicable.

“I should be asking you to forgive me, I don’t want her on this trip. This is just for us, she can’t ruin this.” Her voice trembles despite the force that she exclaims her wish.

He smiles grimly, “We can’t run from her. You once told me that trauma should be faced head on. You were right, we can’t be expected to be perfect yet. We’re only human, you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for coming back and letting me in.”

I love you. He thinks it hard enough for her to hear it.

A sad smile slides across her face, “You’re so adamant these days, I can’t shake you. If I tried to run, you would probably chase me down.”

He doesn’t verbally reply to her assumption, letting the resolve in his eyes speak volume instead, she has always been able to read him like a book, this time will be no different.

She appears so delicate and fragile, he doesn’t even attempt to stop himself from crouching up and pressing a kiss to her lips. She moans at the barely-there touch, hands tightening on his face as she drags him closer, deepening the kiss with a languorous swipe of her tongue. He crawls into her space, tilting his face to transform the kiss from deep to dirty, mouths opening to prod and swallow each other. Her teeth graze across his bottom lip before, pulling it and releasing it with a filthy, pop. His dick jumps at the stinging sensation.

Reluctantly he pulls away from the delicious kiss, worry for her overriding his sex drive, she hadn’t eaten since this afternoon, locked herself away since the lake incident and skipping lunch. It was more important that she get sustenance right now.

She groans at his sudden withdrawal, blindly chasing after his mouth. He laughs at the adorable image.

He presses a piece of grilled beef to her mouth instead, chuckling as she opens her eyes in doe-like surprise. He keeps that comparison to himself, she wouldn’t take kindly to him comparing her to self-proclaimed arch nemesis right now.

“Eat this. My mouth doesn’t have any nutritional value.”

Her face twists as if she is about to argue, but the booming growl of her stomach pierces the air and she blushes before opening her mouth and consuming the succulent piece of meat.

Dinner passes by in a flurry of meat and rice, as they take turns feeding each other and she teases him to retrieve meat from her mouth. They talk about the future and all the places they want to go, he hasn’t smiled this much in his entire life. As he packs up their dishes and chopsticks, he sees her stretching, pulling her body taut from the motion. He wonders if she’s wearing anything under his flannel shirt, her bare thighs taunting him for a second time today.

“I’m sleepy.”

Like a Pavlovian whistle, his body reacts to the innocuous declaration. Images of their previous night together flood his minds, slamming her into the bedroom wall as he sucked wet kisses into her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist as she sensuously grinded into his erection, her head thrown back in rapture as they imitated sex through their clothes, both hungry as they ripped through the clothes, his eyes rolling back as he slammed into her tight pussy, her nails scratching welts on his back. The sweat on their bodies mingling and drenching her luxurious sheets.

The soft click of the van door closing slaps him from the memory and it takes a moment to realize that he is now alone.

He presses down on his erection, hard, embarrassed at how aroused just a memory of her can make him.

Inhaling the crisp night air, he marches into the battlefield.

The camping can is dark upon his entrance, the only illumination provided by the stray moonlight that filters in through the tiny windows, after his quick and efficient appraisal of the confined area, he realizes that she is nowhere to be found. Strange.

Scratching his head he wonders to his bed mat, pausing for a moment before making the decision to remove his shirt, confidence dominating the usual stream of shyness that floods his bloodstream. He lays down on his bed roll, comically similar to Mun-yeong as she had beckoned him to join her on the bed. He had been a fool then, to refuse such a desirable offer, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes ever again.

The soft patter of her footsteps approaching causes his heart to skip a precious beat. Then it stops completely when she enters his line of vision.

Temptation.

That is the word that blares like a siren in his head as he takes her in, her hair is down in soft waves around her face, face washed clean and flawless in the light, and finally he looks at the short silk slip that contours to her every bump and curve. Spaghetti thin straps exposing edible shoulders, as the silk ends dangerously high on her thigh, lace dancing around the ends.

Jaw permanently on the ground, he watches in dismay as she barely glances at him, wondering eyes fleeting across his abs almost too fast to catch, as she climbs the stairs to her bed, her ascent making the slip creep obscenely up her thigh almost giving him a wonderful glimpse at her ass.

Pushing past the frog in his throat he croaks out, “Where are you going? I thought we would sleep down here together.”

She absently arranges her sheets, moving them out of the way, putting her body on clear display for his starving eyes. With eyes that glow in the dark she calmly replies, “Why did you think that? It was your idea to sleep separated in the first place remember?”

Yes, he remembered. When Sang-tae was still on this trip with them, she had offered for Sang-tae to take the bunk bed and they sleep side by side. But he had declined anxiously, knowing that he would not be able to keep his hands to himself if they were sleeping in such close proximity, terrified at losing control so close to his brother.

She seemed to take a malicious glee from throwing his words back in his face.

“But that was before.” He whined, “I thought you were sleepy.”

He tried to subtly infuse meaning into the word hoping to remind of their last rendezvous.

She didn’t bite.

“I am sleepy, that’s why I’m going to sleep. Good night Gang-tae.” With a quick wave, she rolled over, facing away from him as he glared daggers into her back.

Fuck.

He couldn’t see the smirk that overtook her face at his obvious frustration.

Time ticked by, or it would have if they had a clock in the van. Instead he marked time with the sounds of crickets chirping in the forest.

Chirp.

Finally he sat up, tossing the blankets from his body as he gazed at Mun-yeong’s still form, the moonlight provided enough radiance to see her perfectly in the dark. He couldn’t resist the pale glow her skin, clearing his throat he called out quietly, “Mun-yeong? Mun-yeong-ssi? Are you awake? Mun-yeong?”

His calls went unanswered.

He sighed.

Then he picked up a shoe throwing it at the wall of the camping van, the sound deafening in the silence. She jolted up, with quicker reflexes than you would expect from someone who was deeply sleeping. “What was that?” She turned to him, shock on her face.

Twisting the truth slightly he replied, “Um.. I don’t know. Sounds like something ran into the van. Probably an animal. But now that you’re awake I was wondering if you’re cold?”

There was a pregnant pause and he vaguely heard her whisper under her breath, “Ran into the van, my ass” before she spoke loud enough with the intention of him hearing, “No, I’m not cold. If you’re cold you should use Sang-tae’s blanket he left it for you.”

He rolled his eyes at her helpful suggestions, that was the last thing he wanted. So he pressed on, “I’m using that blanket too, but I’m still cold.” He gathered the blankets as he approached her bed, resembling a child fleeing to their parents room after a bad dream.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She asked, still turned away from him and that made it effortless to ascend the stairs and slide into the bed with her. His body’s weight sinking into the bed, announced his presence and she looked at him in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to deal with that on your own.”

“No, I want you to help me deal with it.” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her face into his naked chest. Minutely moaning at the smooth feel of her nightgown on his skin.

With a huff of dramatic annoyance, she pushed him away, turning her back to him again before saying, “Fine you can stay. Please go to sleep, just go to sleep.”

Their night at the guest house surfaces in his mind, her pleas for him as he coldly rejected her once again and begged her to sleep, suppressing his desire to take her right there and then. Karma was indeed, a dish that was best served cold.

He now knows exactly what she’s doing and why. She is serving him a taste of his own medicine, showing him how he made her feel in those moments when he wasn’t quite ready to let her in, but wasn’t man enough to voice that to her either, so he lashed out and hurt her unnecessarily.

Gathering his courage, he swallows his pride, “I’m sorry.”

Silence is his only reply.

Then with a small move, she presses back into his chest, their bodies melding from shoulder to toe.

He wraps his arms around her, humming at finally having her back in his arms. He holds his breath, waiting for the seduction to continue but she simply lays in his arms, contently playing with his fingers while he’s so hard he could hammer nails with his cock.

With a casual grip he begins to play with her fingers too, moving their hands up until they are treacherously close to her breasts, ensuring that every swipe of his thumb on her hand also collides with her nipples. Her breath hitches when he catches her erect nipple, but she doesn’t stop him.

Then he begins to undulate his hips, thrusting his boxer-clad cock into the silk of her slip, groaning at the intoxicating sensation before his control snaps like a rubber band and he surges forward, pulling her close and grinding into her with dark intentions.

She hisses at his cock’s hard crash into her ass, “Aiish you sly fox, is this why you came here?”

In lieu of responding to her obvious inquiry, he pushes his hand down the front of her gown, squeezing her breasts in his hand, harshly pinching the tight nipples until she moaned and squirmed in his hands. He pumped his thick length into her back, haphazardly catching her ass and the crease of her thighs with each rough thrust. With a punishing squeeze to her chest, he retracts his hands only to push his boxers down his hips, cock bouncing out in excitement, ready to play.

His eyes roll back at the feel of her silken gown on his hot engorged skin, precum wetting the material obscenely, as the game ends and she is as enraptured as he is, humping back into him, vigorously. Ripping her panties off from under her nightgown, he tries to plunge a finger into her moist center, but his elbow knocks into the bed railing and he groans at the hindrance. She is a panting mess in his arms now, pressing back into his heavy thrusts, his cock catching on her wet folds, as they both moan in pleasure.

“Can I try something?” Nerves prickly under his skin.

The question leaves his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. She stills at the sudden question but shakily replies, “Yes, just do it. Stop talking.”

He laughs at her impatience, jubilant that she wants him with as much vigor as he wants her. Grabbing her around her waist, he hoists her up into a seated position before sitting up too, using that leverage to turn her upside down, before dragging her onto his body and he lays back down onto the bed.

A perfect 69.

She gasps at the sudden change in position, before looking back at him from over her shoulder, “I knew you were watching porn in the bathroom. Next time, come to my room we can do some hands on learning.”

He swats her ass in retribution, “Now you’re the one talking too much.”

She smirks pressing her lips together and he can’t help but joke, “Well you don’t need to close it completely, just put it to better use.”

Eyes darkening from the proposition, she leans forward and swallows the head of his cock, wet mouth wrapping him in a squishy heaven. His hips subconsciously jerk forward, forcing more of his length in her mouth and she moans around the intrusion.

Then he looks up at the feast before his eyes, her wet and open above him, primed to be devoured by his hungry mouth. He wastes no time in licking her folds, wiggling his tongue into the moist cavern and groaning as she moans at the sensation, vibrations tingling around his cock. They both set off to wreck each other, her tongue relentless as she slurps and licks every inch him, distracting him from wrecking her. At a particularly hard suck at his balls, he shoves two fingers into her, corkscrewing immediately and giving her little room for adjustment.

He grabs her ass cheeks to pry her open further to his onslaught, twisting his fingers into her at the same time licking across her clit, pulling it into his mouth and humming at her addictive flavor.

She pulls off his cock to shout, “Fuck.” Among other expletives and it’s good that he’s not a religious man because pure blasphemy falls from her sinful mouth. He misses the feel of her mouth around him, so he thrusts up wildly catching her mouth as he fucks into her, in perfect synchronization as he fucks into her with his fingers.

She is a drooling mess above him, spit drowning his cock in a filthy river, he focuses on making her lose her mind as he feels his end growing near, tongue and fingers both hammering at her pussy, plunging, filling, worshiping.

Her body twitches violently, drawn tight like a bow, before snapping its release and her juice rain down on his waiting face, bathed in her glory.

His tongue never stops its lap at her until she keens in pain, “No more, it’s too much.” Reluctantly he pulls away, pretty swollen lips closing at his retreat, he kisses them one final time.

Without warning, she leans forward and slides down his cock, pushing past her gag until he feels himself slide down her throat and two quick fucks into that constricting paradise is all it takes to shoot hot cum down her throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head. She swallows and swallows, until finally drawing off as the abundant cum dribbles on his naked thighs, some even pooling on the sheets.

Collapsing to her side of the bed, it takes some effort to meet her eyes in their opposite positions, her head at his feet. But when he does, he sees all the love and fire he knows shines luminous in his own, he worries if this passion might just be too powerful for even them, might it burn them up leaving nothing but their ashes?

What a way to go.

He gathers her pliant body in his arms, moving her until she's sheltered in his arms, she will never have to sleep alone again, she has Gang-tae and Mang-tae. The doll now clutched tightly in her hand.

They drive for days before they come across a small town, pulling into a gas station to refill the van tank. They hadn’t yet emptied it since their first fill and he was working hard so they wouldn’t, loathing the idea of getting stranded on the side of the road with Mun-yeong. She would chew his head off.

“Be careful.” He calls out to her as she wonders into the diner adjacent to the gas station, they’d she’d grown tired of rice and grilled meat and had decided to get some food at the nearest diner. He’d told her to go ahead and get them a table, while he refilled the camping van.

He thinks about how far they’ve come on this journey, literally and emotionally. He has shared stories with her that he has never shared with another soul, not even Jae-su. Has experienced things he never thought he would be allowed to, this trip itself was a life long dream that he'd foolishly given up on but she showed him that it was okay to dream.

He didn't have to suppress his every whim or desire, was teaching him everyday that he was worthy of wanting and receiving.

With all those thoughts permeating his mind, he is completely caught off guard when he enters the diner and sees her menacingly looming over three young boys, a butter knife in her hand. "If you keep bothering her, your parents won't have children." Those are the words, he hears her utter, to children.

All who, trip over themselves fleeing from her screams of “A witch, a witch!” as they scamper back to their tables and said parents glare at the women dressed in black from head to toe, provoking their innocent children.

She smiles at them, waving with the knife still prominently in her hand. He promptly snatches it from her grip, reprimand on the tip of his tongue before a small mouse-like voice cuts him off.

"Thank you lady. Are you a princess?" Appearing from behind the shadow of Mun-yeong's body, a thin child creeps out, twiddling her fingers as she gazes up at Mun-yeong like the stars are hung in her eyes. He's never seen a child look at her like that.

"No. I'm not a princess. They weren't wrong, I'm a witch." She answers deadpan, twirling her fingers to add to the glamour.

She looks very much the part in a bellowing black dress with a full skirt and puffy sleeves, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail with a black rose pin in the front. She towers above the young girl in shiny black leather pumps, that almost gleam under the fluorescent lights. Armor back on since the lake.

He readies himself for the cries that her statement will evoke.

Flabbergasted when instead he hears, "Cool. You're the prettiest witch I ever saw."

Mun-Yeong preens at the compliment before turning to walk away, but the girl catches the material of her dress, rudely tugging it to get her attention.

The sharp eye at the hand on her dress is enough to make the girl immediately release it but Mun-Yeong peers down in question, "When I grow up will I be pretty like you?"

Without even a second to consider Mun-Yeong replies, "No. No one is pretty like me."

He watches the joy melt from the child's eye and opens his mouth to lessen the blow, take the sting off her too blunt words. But she beats him to it, "You shouldn't aspire for looks, you can't control that. Pick something you can control, like being strong so you can beat up your bullies." Her little shoulders perk back up and she beams at Mun-Yeong, his girlfriend's lip curl up at the side.

Before she walks into the diner, finding an empty table, he watches in shock as the young girl wordlessly trails after Mun-Yeong. The sight so familiar it knocks him in the heart. Just like flies to a fire, people like them were drawn to Mun-Yeong's light, the sparks that singed around her as she boldly did what you only dreamed of.

He joins them both at the table, and finally takes a good look at the little girl. She has a cute round face, rosy cheeks, her hair is pulled back in a disheveled ponytail, what stands out are her clothes, they are too put it kindly filthy. Tattered mess that hand off her thin frame and immediately the need to protect her overwhelms him.

"So what's your name brat?" Mun-yeong's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Min-jo."

He sends a warm smile in her direction, noting that her eyes haven't once left Mun-Yeong. Still he adds to the conversation, "Hi Min-jo, I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She writes children's books, maybe you've read one of her books before."

If her eyes were filled with adulation before, now it is tenfold as she jumps in her seat, "You write books? That's so cool! Do you like it? Are they fun? What are they about?"

Taking a sip of the water, the server brought them a few minutes ago with the menus, Mun-Yeong glances from the corner of her eye, before darkly whispering, "They're about chatty little brats who get eaten when they ask too many questions."

Min-jo's eyes widen in shock, little mouth falling into a perfect O, before her bell like giggles ring through the air, "You're so funny Ms. Witch!"

Mun-Yeong smiles back, a full face crinkling smile, at a child. Someone else's child. He is stunned into silence as he watches them converse, the kid ignoring Mun-Yeong's hint and asking her a million more questions. She even answers a few. He watches the miracle, stuffing noodles into his mouth, utterly charmed and bewildered.

When they've all finished their meals- he's still shocked at the amount of food such a small body was able to consume- he opens his wallet and places down the amount plus a hefty tip. He stands up and they follow his lead, Min-jo still trailing behind Mun-Yeong, before a voice stops her in her tracks.

"Oy! Where are you going? You know better than to bother the guests, get back here!" A woman in an apron waddles out, catching her by her arms preventing her from taking another step.

The woman bears no resemblance to the child, sharp where she is round so he wonders if that's her grandmother, before he asks the question aloud. Min-jo's head bends down until her face is completely hidden, "No. I'm an orphan I don't have anyone." Her voice is barely a whisper, lost in the wind as soon as it leaves her lips.

He watches Mun-Yeong tense at the word, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. Three orphans in one diner, the world's saddest story.

He wonders if that was what drew the girl to them in the first place. Destiny. Then he remembers what he overheard. Definitely destiny, Mun-yeong showed up when she needed someone to help her.

If someone shows up when you need then, I call that destiny.

Mun-yeong sniffs at the tears that are pooling in the child’s eyes, her own eyes dark pools that reveal nothing.

"That's no excuse to feel bad for yourself, you can't control that either. Stop following me and learn how to be a leader, then one day when you're older you can make your own family. I did." Her words are matter of fact with no warmth yet he sees the hope they ignite on the child's face, her eyes large in wonder. Pride washes over him like a wave.

Mun-Yeong turns to leave, before promptly stopping and returning to the girl, bending down to meet her at eye level, "Tell those bullies that a witch gave this to you and if they tease you again it'll turn them into frogs." She unpins the black rose pin from her hair sliding it into the young girl's messy hair, her little hand comes up to touch it in wonder.

Tears swimming in her innocent eyes.

Without another word, Mun-Yeong leaves in a whirlwind of black cloth and witchy flair, and he watches Min-jo watch her, her seemingly cold words had been exactly the balm this child needed. He bids Min-jo farewell, bowing at the older woman who takes the young girl's hand, maybe not her biological grandmother but clearly she cares for her. He hopes they let each other know one day, their true feelings.

Love should be shared and acknowledged, unless what's the point of loving?

"You made her feel better."

She looks up at him from her place on the chair, passively, "I told her the truth."

He noticed a long time ago that she doesn't quite know how to respond to compliments, begs for them but once she receives them she quiets down as if taken back by their presence.

"You did really well Mun-Yeong, I'm so proud of you." Instinctively her head comes forward seeking his hand and he happily strokes his hand across her head, amazed by the woman he loves. He impulsively presses a kiss to her head as well, breathing in the floral aroma clinging to her hair.

That night as they lay together, no facades this time, she walks right over to him and slings into his arms, demanding that he stroke her head to help her fall asleep. He concedes happily. Too tired to try for anything more, he resolves to do it tomorrow. The thing that has been on his mind since he told her that he loved her.

He's going to ask her.

What's the point of having all this love and not showing her?

#its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #kdrama #kim soo hyun #seo ye ji #episode 17 #weekend event #fluff #smut #self-discovery #part 1 #meant to be 5k each #this ended up being 7k #I can't write anything short anymore #my details need details lol

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

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You Were Never Truly Gone ch.4

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Finally heading to the M-rated waters, as I promised. Fluff and smut and a bit of worldbuilding, because a story should have a plot. Last I checked...

Despite all the bold words, nothing happened in the end. They were both tired as hell, after watching the stars the whole night, so in mutual agreement it was decided to postpone anything intimate to a later date. Secretly, they were grateful for that. Eren, because this was his first night with Mikasa since coming back, and simply holding was overflowing his senses. Mikasa, because there was that teeny tiny chance that this is still a dream, that she will wake up in the morning alone in her bed.

There was no space between the two during the night. Eren curled himself around her, whispered good night, they shared a kiss and Mikasa fell asleep with a big smile on her face because this was something she always dreamed about happening. To make things better, he didn’t disappear in the morning, snoring softly into the skin of her neck. And with that morning, where the sun shined over her cabin, their new life began.

A week passed.

Mikasa cut Eren’s hair, making it shorter, but declined his offer on doing the same. Hers was long now and getting even longer, but there was no need to restrain it anymore. No ODM gear to tangle into, no fear that an enemy might grab her. For the first time in her life, Mikasa was completely at peace, both internally and externally.

It showed in her posture, in her face, in every part of her life, and Eren loved it. He didn’t even realize it before, but Mikasa rarely laughed, giggled, or showed any sort of happiness out loud. Then again, with life as traumatic as hers, once should not be surprised. Not anymore – now she was laughing and smiling and overall doing those sounds that made Eren’s heart flutter wildly. She was his everything, simple as that, and making her happy was a much better mission than trying to survive in a world of titans or destroying an empire threatening to crush them.

There was always some work around the cabin, from cutting the wood and caring for the few animals to hunting, yet Eren was a quick learner. With him around, even the dullest of chores were fun, because Mikasa had everything she wanted. A home. A man that she loved and that loved her back. Well, maybe not everything, because Mikasa always wanted to have a family too, but there would be enough time for that. For now, life was idyllic.

Also, it was time for some questions.

“Mikasa,” he began one time over late breakfast, “What did Armin say about our time in the paths?”

She watched him over her toast for a few seconds, took a bite, and chewed, clearly buying time. Even after all that, her words were guarded. Mikasa did not enjoy remembering the past, because it was the time of the greatest pain in her life – a time when she was alone.

“He told me that you said that you loved me, and you wanted us to be together.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, he also mentioned that you never wanted me to find another guy.”, she frowned at him, “I should be mad at you for that, did you expect to die and I was supposed to what? Be alone for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that was inappropriate, but I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”, her hand on the table, Eren reached over to caress it, “Will you forgive me if I tell you a detail Armin left out?”

From the crinkle in his eye, it would be a good one.

“You have a deal, Yeager.”

“The thing is, I didn’t say those words while staring into the distance, unbothered by everything. No, I threw a tantrum.”

“You what?”

“Like a child. I cried and sat in the water where Armin knocked me, screaming that I wanted to be with you.”

The mental image made Mikasa’s heart ache.

“Eren I…”

“Yea, I was desperate back then.”

The emptiness in Mikasa’s chest echoed its memory, the hollow feeling he left behind when dead. To chase it away, she stood up and rounded the table, seating herself in Eren’s lap. She held his head, angling it up, staring right into those beautiful emeralds.

“Well, we are together now.”

The way he looked at her – it was as if Eren was watching the sun, a beauty so incredible that he couldn’t put it to words. Adoration was a weak one because it didn’t even come close to what he felt for Mikasa.

“So we are…”, he whispered, and then she was kissing him again, the breakfast forgotten for now.

Despite all these little romantic pauses, there was work to be done.

Eren was not passive, offering his own ideas on how to make the cabin even cozier, and most of them were good. They put together a table outside, a few chairs, the woodwork coming naturally to their hands, skilled with blades. Yet work with blades is always dangerous, and one failed woodcarving later Eren was suddenly bleeding from a deep cut on his palm, staring at the red line in annoyance.

Mikasa was quick to move, collecting alcohol and bandages, but Eren waved her down, amused by her actions.

“What are you doing? It will heal.”

But it didn’t. No steam, no quick fix-it, only pain, and more blood, and a realization knocked on the front door of Eren’s mind. Right, he didn’t have his powers anymore.

A nigh professional bandage around his injured hand, as Mikasa had plenty of experience with patching wounds, Eren was forced to lie down, and he stared at his hand while she cleaned the mess he left behind. As always. Sure, it hurt like a bitch and would probably heal for a few days, but Eren smiled on the wound. This - this pain, this felt good. It felt good to be alive.

And the pain was far from the only emotion in the cabin, as things got heated too.

Mikasa adored kissing, Eren was more than happy to assist, and their days were often interrupted by these moments. Completely at random, with no reason other than want. A good morning kiss, a good night kiss, a random smooch while passing each other, a make-out session while hunting that scared the poor deer for life.

He learned that Mikasa’s neck and ears were her weak points, abusing that knowledge shamelessly. Covering the porcelain perfection with marks was a new favorite pastime of his.

Her beauty was ethereal. Be it the contrast between the pale skin and raven hair, now long enough to cascade past her shoulders, or the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. In his life, Eren could never appreciate beauty. It was filled with dread, with death and blood, with titans and the war. He lived to survive, lived to draw a struggling breath while the world wanted him dead. Only when he truly died did his life change. Now he had time. Time to stop and appreciate the scenery, time to look at Mikasa and see what he was missing all these years.

Eren didn’t think that “beautiful” described what she was. Sunrise was beautiful. The stars, high up in the sky, were beautiful. The flowers Mikasa grew in a part of her garden were beautiful.

Not her.

Somehow, she made everything better. Sunrise was nothing compared to her smile. The stars were enjoyed the best when she was with him, lying on the roof and counting them, giggling anytime Eren tried to find a shape in those lights. The flowers put together created a crown that Mikasa planted on his head, and Eren was the king of the garden for a good minute – a position he would take over the founding titan any day of the week.

No, Mikasa wasn’t simply beautiful. She was perfection.

Evenings were the best because they got to lie down on the roof and watch the stars, hand in hand. It was here that most of their physical exploration took place. Over the clothes at first, a touch here and there, a gentle caress and a quick retreat when the other party gasped, only to be told that “It felt good.” Feelings were a topic hard to describe, but they worked together and were slowly bringing that wall down, brick by brick.

The roof adventures evolved. The kisses were more intense, the touches bolder, the rut of his clothed hips into hers harsh. When Mikasa craved some, all she had to do was meet Eren’s gaze, give him her version of “sexy” eyes and bite her bottom lip, and he was rolling on top of her before she could even giggle.

The evening kisses were slow and sensual because there was no rush. Their work for the day was done, and no amount of stars could ever be as mesmerizing as the girl in Eren’s arms. He would much rather watch her eyes than see the moon. Maybe it was the primal need to please her, maybe it was a magnetic pull, maybe it was…

Who was he kidding, Eren was just a frustrated and horny virgin - that’s it.

So, for whatever reason, he found his fingers slipping under the hem of Mikasa’s skirt one night, anchoring on her knee. Too low from where he wanted to be, but first he had to have her permission. The shy parting of her legs was enough, Eren was dense but not that dense. Up he went, probing at the unexplored territory of her thighs, feeling the muscles. Mikasa had incredible legs, hell, her whole body was incredible, a souvenir left behind by her soldier days. Finally free to do what he wanted, Eren indulged himself, dragging his hands higher and higher until fingers dug into the flesh of inner thighs.

He was close, so close to her heat that Mikasa couldn’t help but feel anxious. This was the last barrier between them, the last thing that they didn’t do and she really, really wanted to cross that bridge. At the ripe age of twenty-two, Mikasa was more than ready. Whispering her consent, she watched wide-eyed as Eren swallowed, giving her a nod of understanding. After what felt like a lifetime, his fingers finally made contact with the fabric of her underwear. Gently, gently and carefully he touched her over the cotton, taking her advice and rubbing the place with two of his fingers. Mikasa reacted beautifully, she gasped into the kisses, cheeks boiling more than usual, her hands tangling in Eren’s shirt. She liked this, the attention, the way he touched her, reminding her that he’s here, that she’s not alone. Not anymore.

Eren rubbed at her more insistently, maybe trying to force more of those pretty sounds out of her pretty lips but the cloth was in the way. And Mikasa wasn’t playing around anymore.

“Take them off.”, she half-ordered, forcing Eren’s eyes to widen.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He was still too slow for her tastes, so Mikasa helped him, tugged the underwear down her legs and kicked it away, not minding that it fell from the roof. They would have time to hunt for it later. Eren was still somewhat flabbergasted by how demanding Mikasa got, but she had three damn years to mourn him, to imagine all the things that would never happen and now when they were actually happening she could not wait.

Her hips tilted to a better angle, inviting Eren to push a single finger in, feeling something he never did in his life. It was warm and moist and kinda funny as if he was sticking it into a freshly made pie. However, pies never moaned. The moan, now that was something that tickled something deep in Eren’s brain. Gasps, groans, even little sounds of pleasure – Mikasa made them all but this was the first time she full-on moaned, shameless and loud. God, he wanted more.

Recognizing that the muscled sheath would stretch for him, Eren added a second finger, scissoring his digits. It was a work in the dark, as Mikasa had her skirt on and he couldn’t see what he was doing, so he used her body as a guide, as an indicator of what to do.

She was greedy. Greedy and selfish, yet she couldn’t find a reason not to be. This was what she wanted for so long, so much that it made her cry to sleep at night. Opening her mouth, Mikasa instructed him further.

“There’s a little bundle on top that feels good when you touch it.”

“Oh really?”, there was a slight shift in the fingers on her sex, “Is it here?”

“No, a bit higher.”

“Here?”

“Close…”

“Here?”

“Hng… Y-Yes.”

It was amazing that such a simple touch could make Mikasa gasp like that.

“How should I touch it, what do you like the most?”

In her state, Mikasa didn’t even realize that Eren just asked her how she masturbates. Not that she was ever big on that, but she was a teenager once and did experiment with what the girls gossiped around in the barracks. It was fine, but nothing compared to how she was feeling right now, Eren’s longer fingers filling her in a way her hands never could.

“Small circles, start slow and then move faster and faster. You can be a little rough, but not too much, because it is really sensitive.”

Careful he was, but not too careful, rubbing as she instructed and soon Mikasa was seeing stars that weren’t on the night sky but beneath her eyelids. Brighter and brighter they shined and she wasn’t even able to kiss Eren anymore, panting with head turned. To please her further Eren quick-invented a new hold on her private parts. Two fingers in a palm against her bundle of nerves, he moved in and out of her while rubbing the place and Mikasa lost it.

Here, on the roof of their cabin, clutching to Eren’s back for dear life, Mikasa Ackerman had the first assisted orgasm in her life – and it was by far the most powerful one. She had tears in her eyes once she came back from her high, and Eren was feeling proud, prouder than when he sealed that hole in the wall with his titan.

“Do you..”, she swallowed, head hidden in Eren’s neck, “D’you want me to touch you too?”

“There will be plenty of time for that later.”, he argued, kissing her temple, “We should head to bed.”

Another week passed.

If anything, the cabin paradise got even better. During their evening kissing sessions, Eren didn’t have his fingers all over Mikasa only, but inside her too. Unexperienced but a quick student, he was able to quickly follow given instructions and translate the movements of her body into his fingers, making her feel better and better with every try. Soon, Mikasa wasn’t able to guide him at all, too busy with gasping and moaning while Eren’s mouth kept sucking the last air out of her lungs or marking her neck with a never-ending supply of love bites. And once she was tired and exhausted, once he made her come enough for his tastes, Eren held up the stained hand, licking her sweetness off of and then kissing her, letting Mikasa taste herself on his tongue.

She touched him too, learned how to handle that thing between Eren’s legs to his satisfaction. While he was blushing like crazy at first, repeating that she does not have to do this, Mikasa shut him up with a kiss while her hand dug confidently beneath his pants, fingers curling around the length that quickly became stiff. Jerking Eren off was a bit more difficult because he made a much bigger mess than her, but seeing him melt into her touch and whine and beg when she held the pulsing rod in her hand was so worth it.

It was amazing that all this – all this pleasure they could give each other, was only the first step on a long road that both Mikasa and Eren loved to walk. In no rush, hand-in-hand, taking it one thing at a time because now, there was no limit over their heads. Now, they could enjoy each to their hearts' desire.

Mikasa wasn’t surprised when Eren caught her hand one day and pulled her to him, the bucket she was carrying cluttering on the ground. He hoisted her up but it was day and they were out in the full light with work to be done so Mikasa initially protested.

Her: “Eren wait…”, was weak and not entirely convincing, especially when her legs wrapped around his waist immediately, holding him tight as a vine. Taking her body language as the one Mikasa couldn’t lie in, Eren buried his face in her neck, the scarf being pushed away by his nose as he kissed her there. Out of sheer instinct Eren’s hips began bucking into hers, rutting clothed like an animal against that heated patch of skin between her legs. Even with the barrier the friction was very pleasurable, and soon Mikasa’s head was falling back and knocking against the wooden side of the cabin, the pretty moans leaving her parted lips.

Yet the moment was ruined when she looked back down, her eyes locking with the gaze of their goat. Yams, as they named the animal, was chewing hay, but its somehow incredibly intelligent eyes never left Mikasa’s, watching her with interest. And no, she didn’t want to be watched by a goat while being intimate.

The pull on Eren’s hair was strong, quickly forcing him back to reality.

“What’s wrong Mika?”, he asked, halting his movements, “You don’t like it?”

“I do but…”, she moved her mouth closer, whispering, “Yams is watching.”

“W-What?”

But when he turned his head, Eren could see that the goat was indeed looking, very much throwing his libido from the window. With a sigh, he let Mikasa back down to stand on her feet, even helping her smooth the wrinkled skirt.

“Next time, let’s do it somewhere with fewer eyes.”, she offered, making him grin.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

Quick, so quick that he couldn’t even follow, Mikasa stood on her tippy toes and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth.

“Me too.”

While they were having their budding romance, the rest of the world struggled to draw breath.

Armin sent letters, explaining the situation in deeper detail and offering a few ideas on how to defuse the Eren thing. They were mostly informational, intent on catching Eren up on what happened during his absence, with neat rows of numbers and words. But it was the first time that Eren saw the destruction that he caused on paper, the first time he read just how much of an impact rumbling left on this world. It would take decades to recover, most likely more, and still, it would never be the same.

Words, numbers, statistics - the population he killed was reduced to this. Yet Eren couldn’t ignore it because it was his doing, his sins, their blood on his hands. This world, this ruined husk with billions wiped out, that was his doing. In the history books, Eren Yeager would go down as the greatest villain that ever lived, and those who stopped him were eternal heroes.

Mikasa found him sitting over these, head in hands, staring at the small letters. The pain in his face was evident and it was obvious to know why.

A slender hand appeared, swiping the letter away.

“Don’t mind those.”

“Do you want me to close my eyes towards the world? Pretend that I don’t see it?”

“No, but there is no need for you to torture yourself.”, she reached over, gently cradling his cheek, “You are here for me, aren’t you?”

A sad smile spread Eren’s lips.

“Of course.”

But it was not okay, and the following night Eren could not fall asleep. Mikasa was out cold, tired from her busy day, curled against his chest, but rest evaded him. Anytime he closed his eyes, the rumbling played on his eyelids, the death he caused coming back to haunt him. Eighty percent. A ridiculous number, but it was the truth. Eighty percent of all life was ended by him, by his actions. No other war, plague, or famine was this deadly.

Eren couldn’t breathe.

As silently and gently as he could, he slipped out of the bed, rushing outside into the cold air. There he fell to his knees, eyes wide as he gasped for breath. Never since being reincarnated did he think about the rumbling this much. He had a goal before, to get back to Mikasa, to reach the only home he knew in this world, but now that he was here the dangerous thoughts flowed.

Looking over his shoulder, he eyed the cabin, his paradise on earth, eyes watering. How did he ever think that he could have this? A home, a woman that loved him, a woman that was the most beautiful and amazing person in this whole world. How can he smile at her, kiss her, hold her in his arms when his hands are dripping with the blood of millions?

Crying now, sobbing, Eren pressed fists to his eyes, teeth clenching. A genocide later all his dreams came true. He once called Historia the worst girl in the world, what was he then? The worst man, monster, the evil incarnate that somehow got its happy ending. How was this fair? How could the universe stand for such an atrocity?

Warmth, a strong hand that wrapped around him, pulling him to rest against a familiar chest. Putting his arms around Mikasa, Eren cried into her nightgown, fingers bunching the material.

“I-I don’t deserve this.”, he choked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shhh, It will be okay.”, she rocked him gently, “I’m here for you.”

“I’ve done… such terrible things. I shouldn’t have this, I shouldn’t have you.”

“Maybe not, but tell me Eren.”, she pulled back, making him look at her, “What do I deserve?”

The answer was immediate.

“The whole world.”

“Ah, and from this whole world you just gave me, I will pick a single thing for myself.”, softly, she kissed his forehead, “You.”

Overcome with raw emotion, Eren pushed their foreheads together, taking the moment to just stare deep into her eyes, bathing himself in the undying love he saw.

“The universe is not fair if it lets me have you.”

“It never was,”, Mikasa retorts, “not since the beginning. You may be the devil, but you are not the only sinner who ended up redeemed. Remember Annie? Remember how she murdered Levi’s squad, remember how we feared her, hated her? Or Reiner, whose actions of breaking the wall killed hundreds.”

She hugged him tighter, whispering.

“You are not perfect, but if they got a second chance, why can’t you?”

With no good answer in mind, Eren crashed his lips into hers, giving in. Lucky was a word that described fortunate people, but it wasn’t enough to express what Eren was. He had Mikasa in his life, and that was beyond lucky.

Sometimes the memories still tormented him, sometimes he could hear the cries and see the crushed faces, but when that happened Eren simply tightened his hold on Mikasa’s sleeping body, letting her love and touch wash those night terrors away. She was his talisman, his light in the darkness, and the answer to why Eren should be allowed to live. Because Mikasa wanted him to, that’s why.

He held her and thanked God for her, because she was a divine gift to the world. Eren thanked Ymir too for the second chance, even knowing that the girl is gone, finally free. It’s the gesture that counts. And there were other ways to show affection to the angel that redeemed him.

And five days after his breakdown, he got a chance to do so.

Mikasa whined when he pulled the fingers out of her without letting her reach the peak, grey eyes stormy. She watched in disapproval as he sucked the sweetness from his digits, grumbling about letting the job half-done. All Eren did was kiss her even deeper, whispering against her swollen lips.

“I want to taste you.”

“… You just did.”

“Not like that.”, Eren shook his head, moving until his head was in the apex of Mikasa’s thighs, emerald eyes burning with passion when they met her gaze, “Like this.”

“I-Is that even a thing?”

“Believe me – when I bunked in the Marley hospital, there was one thing that the veterans loved talking about.”, he smirked, “Their adventures with women.”

“So, you know how it works?”

“I have a faint idea.”

Her skirt was in the way so Eren bunched it up until it was resting on Mikasa’s stomach. This was the first time he got a good look at the place between her legs, and he found it endearing. It was pink and glistening a bit and reacting wonderfully when Eren rubbed it. Mikasa was dying of shame, her skin boiling red and she even pulled the scarf up, hiding her face into it.

Ever the explorer, Eren moved forward and did what he wanted to for a long time. Sticking out his tongue he licked at her, getting the strange new taste in his mouth. She was sweet and Eren found himself liking it, eagerly pushing down and pressing for more. Mikasa was unsure what he was even doing at this point, but it felt amazing despite the strange sounds. She could feel his tongue tracing her sex before dipping in.

He made her feel good, great even, combining the efforts of his tongue with a rub on her clit. Eren even reached out when he was tongue deep inside her, taking both of her clothed breasts and squeezed hard, forcing a cry from Mikasa’s throat. Unrelenting, he kept pleasuring her until she came all over his face, breathing hard while Eren gently licked her through the finish. And when she was done he crawled up, facing her reddened face with his smug one.

“Wanna taste yourself?”, he asked, and Mikasa didn’t feel like answering with words.

She kissed him instead.

Mikasa, always the great equalizer, insisted that she tries using her mouth on Eren too. It was strange, holding the thing in her hand, it was even stranger having it in her mouth, but Mikasa was determined and nothing would stop her. In her fervor she let it slide way too deep into her throat, and she gagged and coughed and Eren was apologizing so much that she put a hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Shhh.”, she said, “Let me work.”

Grabbing a hair tie from her pocket, she tied the long hair into a ponytail because it was getting everywhere, and as soon as it was tamed she went back to it. And work she did, indulging herself on her wiling partner, trying everything she could think of. It was fun, it was great fun but then Eren let out a tortured groan and tugged at her ponytail, a warning that she understood but decided to ignore.

He exploded inside her mouth, and she swallowed around him, not stopping until he was done. Only then did she move up his body, meeting his flushed face with a bold smile.

“Wanna taste yourself?”, she threw Eren’s words back at him, and his answer was the same as hers.

A deep kiss.

A third week passed.

Niccolo came by with a basket of homecooked food and Mikasa met him outside, saying that she doesn’t feel well. He left the food with a get-well-soon wish, and suddenly there was a day when they didn’t have to cook. They ate the admittedly delicious meal outside, the meat going great with one of the left-over bottles of wine. A tiny bit of red found its way to Mikasa’s cheek, smeared across her scar, and Eren was very glad that this time around it’s not blood.

“You’ve got some sauce on your face.”

“Huh, where?”

“Here..”, ever helpful, Eren reached out to thumb it away but didn’t pull his hand back, letting the touch linger.

Mikasa leaned into it, smiling and overall being the prettiest thing he ever saw. Not to wonder, the next moment he was kissing her.

It was passionate, way more than usual, partly fueled by the wine but mostly by the hunger for each other. The three weeks was enough time, enough for the reality to become what it always was – real. Eren was here, with her, and maybe he didn’t deserve it but she did. Mikasa always fell asleep hugging him and woke up tangled with Eren, never alone or crying into her pillow. And kissing was nice and all but they were two healthy young adults and sometimes, kissing simply doesn’t cut it.

The cabin door banged when he kicked it open, pulling Mikasa back to him as soon as he could. With her eager assistance he managed to unbutton her shirt, letting it fall on the floor. She did the same to him and now they were both topless, naked skin sliding against naked skin.

Eren had a faint idea of how Mikasa's body looks like. They spent a lot of time together, slept in the same bed, and her nightgown was not made of the thickest material. There were times during the night where her ass rubbed just perfectly against his crotch and Eren had to tilt his hips away, lest he wakes her with his raging hard-on. There was also that one time when he walked in on Mikasa changing and was blessed with a sight of her fully naked for about a second before they both went red in the face and Eren slammed the door closed, loudly apologizing.

But this, this was something different altogether.

It was the first time when they got willingly naked with each other. Even during their earlier activities the removal of clothing was limited to the most necessary ones – panties nudged aside, pants pulled down, skirt bunched up. Now it was all and everything, falling on the floor like leaves in autumn and the two lovers stumbled around the cabin, bumping into furniture.

She was beautiful, of course she was, but there were definitive proofs of her hard life left behind on her body. The muscles were one thing, coiling beneath her skin, her abs far more defined than Eren’s ever was. Younger and dumber Eren envied those muscles Mikasa had because she was that much stronger and faster than he, older and wiser Eren worshipped them. They were a part of the woman who was the reason for his existence.

Yet the muscles were not all. Mikasa had scars, a lot of scars, scattered everywhere and Eren had to take a break from her lips to touch them.

“I’m sorry,”, he heard her whisper, misunderstanding his pause, “I know that they are ugly.”

“Ugly?”, he laughed in disbelief, “Mikasa, you got these while saving my life, over and over again. You got them while saving the damn world. You got them while being the bravest and strongest soldier that ever existed.”

Suddenly he was on his knees, and Eren’s lips ghosted over her stomach where a large cut was.

“They are beautiful.”

And he kissed her scar and didn’t stop there. Every single one, no matter how small, felt the touch of his lips, gentle but insistent. To see them all Eren had to take off her skirt too, and now he had Mikasa only in her underwear, a sight that he thought will never bless his eyes. But he was here, she was here, every cut on her skin an obstacle she had to overcome for them to have this heaven together. Slowly and lovingly Eren placed Mikasa on the bed, crawling over her. Her hair, long and unbound, spilled on the pillow, midnight against the whiteness of the sheets. He kissed the cut on her ankle, the marks left behind by ODM gear on Mikasa’s thighs. Eren’s journey was long and arduous but he loved every moment of it. The end was her face, and after he kissed the scar on her cheek that he gave her in his youthful rage, it was done. For today at least, as Eren would repeat the same journey a hundred times if given the chance.

In clear contrast, his body had no marks. No scars, no blemishes, no birthmarks, it was new and it showed. The only cut he had was the one on his hand, a few days old and a result of his own clumsiness. They were both veterans of the same wars, but Mikasa was the one forced to wear the marks on her body. It only made Eren feel even more affection to her, a deep desire to worship her – all of her. With a question he tugged at her underwear and she relented, letting him remove everything from her body. Now she was bare and he could finally take her in fully, nothing hidden from view anymore.

There is no word to describe what Eren felt at that moment. A mix of love, adoration, awe, and, no need to deny it, lust. In his faint memories they were like this before, during their “what if” escape, but that was a dream, nothing compared to the reality. Mikasa was a woman shaped by war, her body was a weapon, yet it lost nothing of its grace. Every move of her mesmerized him, every shift of her muscle beneath the porcelain, every time she drew a breath and those perky breasts rose from their perch, high on her chest. Aching to touch them, he ran his hands over her ribs first, feeling the bones one by one. Finally, he reached those mounds, filling his hands and squeezing, kneading them. It must have felt good because Mikasa groaned, shifting beneath him on the bed.

It was funny – her body was hard, mostly muscles and bones, cut from her training as a diamond. But her breasts were still soft and squishy and Eren couldn’t get enough of them. Her nipples hard against his tongue when Eren mouthed her chest, licking and kissing and leaving marks with his teeth.

“How are you this perfect?”, he choked out, making her blush even more.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, yes you are.”, to make her see, Eren kissed a trail from her breasts all the way up to her mouth, kissing her nose.

Perfect – from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

Eren’s fingers were at her entrance again, toying and prodding, the touch experienced now. He knew what to do, and Mikasa was soon gasping into his mouth, head swimming. His other hand went on a journey too, touching everything and everywhere, committing this to his memory. The mental image Eren was creating – he wanted to know her, every nook and cranny of Mikasa’s body for one reason only. So he could make her feel the best that he could.

Exploration didn’t go unrewarded. A nipple, which he flicked and Mikasa let out a short gasp. The second one, that he pulled into his mouth, sucking diligently. Hands busy – one down between her legs, fingers moving in and out and palm rubbing her clit, one at her chest, tweaking that funny nub. Mikasa was reacting well, and Eren got his mouth engaged in a different place, kissing and licking all over her sensitive neck before returning to her abandoned breast. The bite on her nipple sent a shock of pain through all the pleasure, but Mikasa loved that spice.

She came, came hard with a strangled cry that he captured in a kiss, came over his hand and Eren loved that, loved when her hips moved on their own and rode out its orgasm on his digits. But when he tried bringing those fingers up to his mouth Mikasa interrupted him, catching his hand and licking it clean herself.

Today, this would not satisfy her. Today she wanted more.

She was so polite, asking if he could strip too, and Eren almost fell from the bed in an effort to follow her wishes. Now it was her turn to explore, to touch everything everywhere, to trace her fingers over the planes of unmarked skin. Palming the hard erection Mikasa wondered how that will ever fit inside her. Yet with her fingers brushing over his member, Eren couldn’t wait anymore.

“Please,”, he begged in a broken whisper, unworthy as he was, “Please let me make love to you.”

And the angel looked at him, the grey eyes drowning with their intensity, the ethereal being regarded the broken man that shared her bed, the nameless existence that defied death for her. And then, a tiny smile curved her pink lips.

“Yes…”, she said, spreading her legs and tilting her hips up.

“Yes….”, now her hand was on his member, pulling and guiding him insider her.

“Yesssssss.”, was the third hiss as Eren penetrated her, Mikasa’s eyes fluttering closed from the intensity.

It was a tight fit and Eren was glad for the touches from earlier, because without her wetness he had no idea if it could even get in. It took time, rocking back and forth as he pushed in more and more, Mikasa’s unyielding muscles giving way. Even overwhelmed like this Eren wanted to touch her. Her breasts were fun to squeeze, her face a great place to kiss. Still, his hips danced, pulling and pushing and Mikasa’s legs wrapped around him, helping with the movements.

In a primal attempt to establish dominance, or maybe to just stop her hands from distracting him Eren gathered her wrists and pinned them to the bed above Mikasa’s head, holding her stretched with one of his hands. At the same time he finally bottomed out, the head of his member kissing a spot deep inside that was never touched before, the connection making them moan in unison. Joined as much as they could, the pair stared into each other’s eyes, seeing the overflowing love they held. A love that demanded to be consummated.

And consummated it was in rhythmic thrusts, the headboard banging the wall. Her hands easily slipped from the restrictive hold Eren tried to have on them and were now grasping at his broad back. When he moved just right, when he rubbed the perfect place inside her, they changed into claws and carved into the skin, creating bloody wings in their wake. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure, Eren not even halting in his movements. He fucked her slow and deep, pouring all of his love into the thrusts. Mikasa was moaning right into his ear, the sounds so sweet that Eren could drown in them.

He wanted more.

Eren had to have her closer, had to be touching as much of Mikasa as he could. Sitting up he pulled her until she was in his lap, the new position pushing the thing inside her even further, now that gravity was assisting. They wrapped each other in a hug and then the movement resumed, but now they were both doing it. Eren thrusted and Mikasa rocked her hips, working in unison to reach their goal. Gasping on her shoulder wasn’t good enough, the hot puffs he blew into her hair, so Eren angled his head to kiss her. Now they were exchanging air too in addition to the deep connection of their bodies. It was always better to let Mikasa move because she excelled at anything physical, and Eren was the one faltering when her hips circled, the massage of her inner muscles out of this world.

He was weak, too weak to resist because this was the best Eren ever felt in his life. With a groan, a mumbled warning he came, hips jerking into hers. The finish was something out of a dream, making his whole body shake while whiteness pushed on his eyelids, and Eren knew that this was everything he could ever ask for.

Here in their cabin, Eren and Mikasa took each other’s virginity, finally becoming what they were always meant to be. Lovers.

Mikasa’s lips fell open, the strange sensation of being filled by Eren’s climax worming its way into her brain. Bodies stilled, they sat in the bed, tangled together as close as two people can physically be. Eren was the first to move, kissing the side of her throat.

“I’m sorry,”, an apology pressed into her skin, “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s okay…”, a breathy gasp, “I enjoyed it.”

Overcome, Eren fell on his back, staring at the ceiling, but looking up he saw that Mikasa didn’t follow. She was still straddling his hips, seated upright, watching him with a new spark in her eyes. Reaching out, she ran a finger down Eren’s face, loving the change of perspective. Now she had all the control, all the power, and nothing was restraining her from taking what she wanted.

Mikasa rolled her hips experimentally, making Eren curse as he grabbed her. No, she didn’t like that. Peeling his fingers off Mikasa planted them back on the bedding, leaning down until their lips brushed.

“Stay.”

A single word, a single kiss and she was upright again, stirring her hips. She was a visage on top of him. A beautiful dance of her muscled stomach, the rolling of hips powered by those defined abdominals. The long hair shifting with her movements, curtaining her from behind. The way she tilted her face up, eyes closed, losing herself to the pleasure. The daylight streamed in through the windows, bouncing off of her pale skin and she was bathed in it, beautiful beyond any imagination. Reddened cheeks, swollen pink lips, midnight hair, white skin marked by red love bites, perky firm tits bouncing with her movements. A painting couldn’t be more perfect than Mikasa right now, no artist could ever hope to capture what she was. And Eren was an observer, blessed by this sight, pinned to the bed not only by her weight but mostly by her word.

Being on top was quickly becoming Mikasa’s favorite position. Not that she tried many of them, but being here and free, able to watch Eren fall apart beneath her that was an experience she enjoyed. Faster, she bounced on his lap with more strength and was soon craving a little change.

Hands finding purchase on Eren’s thighs Mikasa leaned back and continued her riding, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the cabin. Full of pure joy, full of him, high on hormones she laughed out loud, head falling back and the ends of her hair tickling Eren’s legs. So long it grew, now that war wasn’t forcing her to cut it anymore.

To help, to assist the divine being, Eren put his thumb to work on her clit and she appreciated it with a deep hum. And this time around, with a lot of cheek biting and digging nails into his palms, Eren managed to hold until Mikasa came first, clenching around him and crying out loud. Done and spent she collapsed but didn’t let his length fall out and Eren had to help himself, thrusting up until he also spilled for the second time, muffling his sounds by her hair.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, kissing everywhere on her face, from forehead to the eyelids, the cute nose that she scrunched, over her lips down to the chin.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his jittery gaze with her own.

“Don’t..”, a gentle touch on his cheek, “We did this together.”

“Together…”

There were tears now streaming down his face, tears from the pure happiness that bloomed in his chest. And Mikasa wiped them away but didn’t ask why Eren was crying.

She knew.

To his surprise, Eren enjoyed cooking and gardening a lot. Maybe it was the need to create with his hands, rather than destroy, he had enough death in his life. Still, he was no slouch at hunting yet Mikasa always outperformed him, a fact that he was often teased for.

To test her, if the Ackerman strength had truly left her body, he built a small sparring ring and invited her to join him. Stiff at first, as the fighting grew out of their lives, but on about the third round the blood boiled and the body remembered what it used to be. Mikasa’s unnatural strength was indeed gone, vanishing with the paths, but she was far from weak. Her body was a perfectly put together machine that she mastered, and while she couldn’t pick up Eren with one hand anymore, she could easily do it with two. They punched and danced around and twisted and turned on the ground and Eren came to a realization. Even now, Mikasa crushed him.

Then again, there were certain benefits to sparring, like the feel of her skin on his, the hands that roamed everywhere to push and pull, and….

It was after the fifth time that Mikasa pinned Eren to the ground when his hand circled her hips and pulled instead of pushing her away, the indication rather clear.

“I’ll assume that this was your plan from the start?”, Mikasa asked, not minding the change of physical activity in the slightest.

“You overestimate me,”, he muttered, planting open-mouthed kisses over the sweaty skin of Mikasa’s neck, “I’m thinking on my feet here.”

Well, she would not question his genius.

A chicken came close, eyeing the sweaty mass of entangled bodies writhing around on the ground, curious about what was happening. Noticing a shirt, thrown away in a heat of passion, it pecked at it to try the taste. However, then the black-haired human made a loud noise and it scared the animal, making the chicken run away with flapping wings. The fabric was not worth it.

Several months passed.

Armin sent more letters. The situation wasn’t getting better, but it wasn’t getting worse either. Yeagerists and the rest of the world were barking at each other like rabid dogs, but neither was willing to bite first. Historia mediated peace talks in the meantime, opening Paradis up.

Most importantly, they kept his secret. To the world, Eren Yeager was dead.

In other news, Jean and Pieck were dating, Armin wrote. Reiner was depressed since Eren came back, but he was getting better thanks to Gabi and Falco being awesome. Levi asked how Mikasa was, and Armin smiled and said that she’s okay. The old captain probably had a hunch of bullshittery, considering the look he gave the blond but didn’t pry.

To them, it was an echo that barely reached their private paradise.

It was bliss, no other word to describe it. The days in the cabin alternated – sometimes they woke up with a crack of dawn and were doing chores as the sun rose, sometimes they stayed in bed the whole day, doing nothing but re-exploring each other’s bodies. With the final barrier between them broken, they were experimenting with their intimacy, because no idea was dumb enough not to try. Who would mind? It was just them in the cabin, and they had a backlog worth years of suppressed feelings.

In those months Mikasa’s scarf was used a lot, becoming a blindfold or a way to gently tie someone’s hands. The location was also great to change, and the cabin wasn’t big enough for their tastes, the surrounding river, forest and meadows offering so many new places to try.

When having “fun” outside Yams was a hard limit because he kept watching with an interested expression and Mikasa couldn’t take it. For the sake of her mental health, they began locking the poor goat in the barn as a precaution. And everything was perfect again.

Until one day, when two events found a way to disrupt it.

First – Mikasa missed her period. A thing that was honestly to be expected, and a little miracle that it didn’t happen sooner. Sure, she was drinking some tea that was supposed to help but that was for girls who made a mistake, not for young women that were having sex multiple times per day.

Eren, who initially had a speech about them having to be careful because Mikasa getting pregnant out of nowhere while she is supposed to be living alone would be hard to explain, was nothing but a hypocrite. He was not careful in the slightest, unable to stop himself and pull out more times than he could. Mikasa locking her ankles around his hips at times or refusing to go down from her position on top didn’t help.

Not realizing the implication the period was ignored, Mikasa reasoned that it would come later, but the second event was of a much bigger immediate impact.

Mikasa was feeding Yams in the yard while Eren plucked a goose he hunted earlier, their normal day of an idyllic life. That was all changed when an unfamiliar sound could be heard in the distance, and straightening, Mikasa shielded her eyes from the sun to see what it was. A car. A big black car was coming towards her house, bearing small flags on the sides. There were no roads to her house, but the machine did not care, chugging it over the grass.

“Eren, hide!”, was her warning hiss, and he was quick to obey.

Dropping the goose he all but sprinted inside the cabin, managing to close the door just as the car climbed the hill, getting a clear view for the first time. It vroomed closer and closer until it was here, stopping with a grunt. Mikasa watched it all with the hay basket at her hip and Yams abused her confusion, eating right out of it.

The metal opened to reveal a black-suited man who jumped out, opening the rear door with a bow. Kiyomi climbed out, her face betraying nothing as she looked left and right, taking the whole cabin in. The half-plucked goose caught her attention but she didn’t comment on it, walking over to the table instead.

Understanding the gesture, Mikasa dumped the basket much to Yams’ glee, joining the older woman. Kiyomi had her hands folded on the wood, eyes calculating as always, watching her approach. And when Mikasa sat down, her words were fast and emotionless. Not even a “Hello”, Kiyomi rolled out her plan immediately.

“I am withdrawing my support from Paradis.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will make the announcement in a week. After that, there will no more help from Hizuru, and you will be left on your own. Again.”

Mikasa tapped the table, trying to wrap her head around it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand what will happen. Without us, queen Reiss will be left defenseless and the Yeagerists will devour her. Once she’s gone, who is there to stop their expansion plans?”, Kiyomi’s words were daggers, “There will be another war, and this time it won’t stop unless one side is completely wiped out.”

“If you know that much, why would you ever withdraw your support?”

“You know why.”

So this was about her. Again. This was about Kiyomi’s never-ending plan on planting Mikasa in Hizuru as a shogun’s wife. This was about her bloodline, the thing that was worth more than anything to the old woman.

“You’re threatening me.”, Mikasa understood, “If I won’t come, you will doom this island. How can you do that?”

“Because I tried everything else!”, Kiyomi’s voice finally got heated and she clenched her fists, “I gave you time, I gave you four years to mourn him! I was nothing but a supportive ally while Paradis struggled to catch up to the rest of the world. I devoted so many resources to you that I’ve been called a madwoman back in my homeland. But that ends here.”

She stood up, delivering the closing words with the finality of falling rocks.

“Mikasa, you have one week to decide. Either come to Hizuru and take your rightful place or stay here and watch the island around you burn. If the shogun’s bloodline is doomed to end with you… Then so be it.”

Ever since the end of the war Mikasa did not have those crazy headaches, but now her temples were pounding again as the car disappeared over the horizon. Soon, warm hands circled her and pulled her into a hug, and she rested her head on Eren’s shoulder.

“What do we do?”, she whispered weakly, but he had no answers.

Three days later, it was the anniversary of Eren’s “death”, a year since he came back.

Armin and everyone would be coming tomorrow, but tonight it was just them, lying together on the grass next to the small headstone. Mikasa didn’t come here anymore, for obvious reasons, but nostalgia made her bring flowers and now those were resting on the grave, much to Eren’s amusement.

“Another year.”

“Indeed, but this one was much better.”

“I take it that you prefer the cabin over paths?”

He smirked, kissing her temple.

“Infinitely.”

“Two years there, huh. How did it feel?”

“Not very long, the opposite. They were collapsing fast and I had to save all my memories before they died. There were some I wanted to leave behind so I would forget them,”, a grimace, “Like the rumbling, but I knew that I had to take them all. Otherwise I would never be complete.”

Eren always had pain in his voice when talking about the process of reforging himself, and Mikasa could imagine that it was far from a pleasant experience. And now that she thought about it…

“Wait, since you were dead, you didn’t have your body, right?”

“Obviously…”

“So you didn’t age for two years.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Where are you going with this?”

“You are two years younger than me now!”, she giggled, “A child.”

“Oh come on.”

“I let you drink wine!”, she gasped, “So irresponsible of me. And…”

Whatever Mikasa’s next age-gap joke was would be lost to the history, because Eren silenced her the only way he knew. With a kiss.

In a silent agreement, they didn’t talk about Kyomi’s offer, but Mikasa found herself thinking about it at the dead of night when Eren’s soft snores were the only sound in the cabin. However, now she had a more immediate issue, because his hands got adventurous, slipping underneath her clothes.

“You are not serious,”, she accused him, “Here? Of all places?”

“Why not?”, he was kissing her neck again, slowly but surely hiking the fabric of her dress up, “It’s just a decomposing head there. I should know, It was mine.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“And I keep wondering why.”

With a grunt he rolled them over, hovering over Mikasa’s flushed cheeks.

“Then let me remind you.”

Maybe it was the need to forget about Kiyomi and her threats but Mikasa ended up going along with his plans. Here they were, naked bodies entangled on the grass with Eren thrusting into her, the leg she had wrapped around his hips pulling in sync. But for once it was not hard enough to dispel the lingering sadness of the place and Mikasa stopped him, making Eren pull out.

Then she was up, scrambling on her knees and turning around, leaning on the wood of the old tree that watched them grow up, that hosted the place of his last rest for three years. Eren understood her wishes, guiding himself back into her once she was done moving, the re-union making them both moan. And then it was hard and fast and bruising. The fingers clutching her hips were marking the porcelain skin with red, the hips slapping into her ass making obscene sounds. Wet, tight, and everything to dream about, Mikasa’s inviting depths crumbled Eren’s mental strength. She was losing it too, head craning and the long hair falling all over her face. Desperate to see her, Eren reached out to brush it aside, and now the midnight cascade went over one of her shoulders. One of her hands moved too, resting on her own ass as support when her body turned sideways, the delicious sounds leaving her at an alarming rate.

Was it strange that she enjoyed having sex here? Maybe. But this was a place of her greatest breakdowns, here she cried again and again at Eren’s grave, unable and unwilling to accept that he was truly gone. Here she broke into pieces and had to pull herself back together again. It didn’t feel like desecrating the place, more like blessing it, overwriting the sad memories with new happy ones.

With a rub at her weak place Mikasa broke, moaning out loud into the night. And when a few of her tears fell on the grass, she realized that this was far from the first time she cried here. But this was the first one when those tears were of pleasure and happiness.

Eren followed her climax with his own and then they collapsed into a sweaty embrace, careful not to fall on the headstone. My most beloved, my dear it read, but Mikasa didn’t feel dread when looking at it anymore. Her beloved was right here in her arms, and she had to make sure that it stayed that way forever. The world was intent on keeping them apart, even now after his death, but she would not let them.

With the sex haze covering their senses, the telltale smell in the air, Mikasa looked at the stars while Eren buried his nose in her hair. Four years after she lost the love of her life, a year after getting him back, and approximately five minutes after being pounded by him from behind to a mind-shattering orgasm, Mikasa Ackerman came to a decision.

“Eren,”, she got his attention and he hummed into her hair.

“Hm?”

Mikasa took a deep breath.

“Let’s go to Hizuru.”

#eremika #fanfic #snk

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onlytaylor · 4 years

Text

Drarry + Facing Demons and Finding Family

Tw: mentions of symptoms of depression, anxiety, ptsd, and child abuse. All are resolved with a happy ending.

Draco Malfoy walks the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and it’s different now. The way it had bustled with a vibrant vivacity in his younger years is long gone now, replaced by the mediocrities that come with running errands and making stops for work. It had been repaired, for the most part, after the war, but something about the shadows of buildings that used to be constructed just a little bit different haunts Malfoy in his steps.

He turns to glance over his shoulder when the sound of a child laughing fills the spaces between bustling bodies and adult feet. A familiar tuft of blue hair comes dashing forward, and Draco feels a momentary reprieve from his own hollow dissonance. His face lights up as the boy throws his arms around his neck, crying “Cousin Draco! What are you doing here?”

And behind the vivacious grin is the humble one of Harry Potter, the boy who really did end up saving the world. Draco doesn’t hate him; how could he? If it weren’t for the testimony of the man standing there now casually in his Muggle plaid shirt and ripped-up jeans, Draco wouldn’t be walking these streets.

“Malfoy,” he puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth a bit on his feet. “What sort of business are you up to these days?”

“Oh, just... dropping off a package for the boss. You know.” He shrugs, suddenly vacant. His momentary reprieve shrinks into a daunting reality.

“Wanna come get ice cream with us?” Teddy’s toothy grin eats at the edges of his impending monotony.

“Oh, well, I wasn’t-“ he starts, but Harry Potter has stepped his foot forward.

“No, please. If you’re not too busy, we’d love to catch up. Teddy misses you.” And, allowing the package to feel a bit lighter in his coat pocket, Draco turns on one heel and heads to the parlor with them both.

***

Having Teddy Lupin run through his life is like chasing a tiny piece of dynamite. You never know just when it will explode, and when you’ve got it in your fingers it seems to roll invariably to the floor. Draco’s been waiting now for quite some time for his own destruction, but his regularly timed meetings with Harry (wow- really on a first name basis now) and his cousin had brightened his steps countably.

It seemed that the sparking fire may just never come.

***

Draco Malfoy doesn’t visit Malfoy manor, and its empty rooms are surely hung with cob webs and dust mites and other small creatures that have made it home. The stone exterior is beginning to succumb to a green vine that twists its way up the foundation, and apparently small children dare each other to knock on the door of the “Death Eater House.”

Draco doesn’t have to visit Malfoy Manor to know which ghosts roam its halls, apparitions of tortured souls and the results of his own mistakes. If only he’d stood up to his father. If only he’d run. If only...

Draco swallows, once, then twice, before straightening his stare ahead. Harry’s coming over soon, and this time Teddy is at the Burrow. They’ve never hung out like this, quite alone and unsupervised by Teddy’s string of home-made knock knock jokes. He’s not sure why, but he’s nervous.

***

After the war, Draco had considered himself a work-in-progress. He’d ventured through the stages of grief, mourning his losses and wishing he could change the past. He’d also picked himself up off of the floor, vowing to start new. None of this was easy. Panic followed him around every corner, but around every corner was the reassuring laugh of Teddy; smile of Harry. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit their great assistance in his own healing.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares. Or the constant feeling of dread. And when Draco Malfoy is alone, his guilt consumes him. Why hadn’t he done the right thing? Why hadn’t he stood up to his father?

***

When Draco was eight, he’d drawn a portrait of his family. It was an assignment by his private tutor, a sort of busy-work while she prepared more practice for magical theory. He’d drawn them, stoic and cold, using shades of gray and black to fill in the spaces between them. They didn’t touch, didn’t love. Lucius told him that artists didn’t make any money in the Wizarding World. Draco ripped up the drawing and threw it in the rubbish bin.

***

When Draco’s lease on his London apartment is near its end, Harry finds him with a nervous twitch of his lips.

“You know, Draco, you don’t have to move into another building. I know you hate your neighbors because they remind you of your family. Our flat is large enough for a third member.”

Draco had almost immediately rejected- his first instinct was to scoff at any such attempts at pity. But Teddy’s eyes had met his, bright and foretelling- and his pleas almost melted Draco’s shoes to the asphalt.

“If you really want me to,” Draco smiles, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

***

Draco hadn’t realized that his ghosts would follow him here. But as he watches the shadows dance upon the walls of his very own room, he knows he’s not dreaming. It’s his father, reminding him that he will never be good enough.

It’s his mother, watching with irrefutable silence.

It’s himself, pointing a wand at Dumbledore. Leaving with Snape. And abandoning his dreams to follow in his father’s foot steps.

It’s a portrait of Draco’s family, stone cold and frozen against the frosted window pane.

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming.

Not until the door is thrown open, and Harry’s there, sporting nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a concerned purse of his lips.

He’s on the bed, and now Draco is crying. Yelling. Laughing hysterically. Because he’s fucking insane, sitting in a bed half-naked with Harry Potter and telling himself to shut his fucking mouth before Teddy wakes up.

But Harry is gentle. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and whispers “I know. But it’s not true. None of it is real.”

And Draco sobs, without really knowing how to stop, and Harry’s skin is warm against his own. It’s the first time he’s ever really felt whole.

Hours pass, though the clock reads otherwise. And Draco tells him that he needs to go back to bed. That they’ve both got work in the morning, and Teddy is visiting Andromeda...

But, no, Harry whispers, this is more important. You are more important. When had their relationship morphed into this... whatever this is?

Draco Malfoy allows himself to be held, and it is surprisingly wonderful.

***

Working for the ministry is like working in one of those Muggle cubicles. He should be grateful for the opportunity, but Draco hates his job. His boss is monstrous, a poised figure that reminds him far too much of his father.

He gets a bit panicky when requests are made, unable to say no. Draco Malfoy never thought he’d become a push over, but his inherent desire to please, to win, to have a second chance is tumultuous.

He doesn’t know how to live without it.

***

Teddy is spending the night at the Burrow, and Draco and Harry are doing their usual dance of washing and putting away the dishes.

“Fancy a movie?” Harry asks, and something soft flutters in Draco’s chest.

“Sure.”

***

It’s midnight when Draco feels the gentle presence of Harry slumped against his shoulder, his quiet snores a rhythm that he begins to memorize.

He doesn’t move, and the stillness is what allows him to feel the sporadic twitches that begin to ripple through Harry’s body.

“No, no,” he murmurs, “Please, no. Hermione... Cruciatus...”

Draco freezes, and he immediately understands the inner workings of Harry’s psyche.

He was there when his aunt Bella inflicted near irreparable damage to Hermione Granger. He didn’t stand up. He didn’t stop her.

There’s a tightness in his chest, and it fluctuates with his heart rate. Harry is having a nightmare, and it’s all his fault.

“You’ll never make up for what you’ve done,” he hears his father say, and the words are a gun to his head.

“Harry,” he whispers, desperately running his fingers along the side of his arm to calm him. If he couldn’t go back, the least he could do is aid his sleep.

Harry settles, and Draco breathes a sigh of relief. His father is laughing at him.

Ghostly shadows dance along the walls, flickering in the dim light of the TV. The world seems to grow around him, and he is infintismal.

His palms are sweaty as the guilt settles, rotting a hole in his stomach. And then there’s a whisper, a subtle word that shifts everything: “Draco.”

He glances at Harry’s face twice to make sure he’s not imagining the slight tug at the corner of his mouth. He said Draco’s name. And, from the depths of his slumber, he’s smiling.

Draco’s eyes are prickly, and he’s not sure why there are tears surfacing at such an inopportune moment. Perhaps he’s gone completely insane... or maybe...

“Not your father, Draco... amazing... need you... love you...”

A light seems to dissipate the shadows, which morph and expand into unidentifiable shapes before they slowly vanish. Draco’s hands are still clammy, but his mind is on overdrive.

The Savior of the Wizarding World is dreaming about him. Believes in him. Maybe, even...loves him?

And the remaining shadows come crashing down, spirits that find rest in redemption. If Harry Potter, with his stupid scar, and his stupid broomstick, could think highly of Draco Malfoy, the ex-death eater... maybe he could forgive himself.

Maybe... and then there are images flashing through his mind. Of stone family drawings and cruel and unjust punishment.

Of the desire to please, so much, that if his father pointed a wand at his throat he’d beg for forgiveness. Of pretending to have dignity for so long that he’d lost his own along the way.

And then, another sleepy rasp from Potter: “not your fault...”

And something snaps inside him.

“Not my fault,” he repeats, barely audible, yet it rattles an earthquake that cracks the floor. The ground faults, and everything he’s ever know crumbles before him.

“You are pathetic.” The voice of his father shakes the walls, breaks the foundation. Rips open the fortress of his solitude, jagged lines coursing through his very being and down to his core.

There’s a wand at his throat.

Harry isn’t here. Here, it’s a Malfoy’s paradise, and Draco’s skin crawls at the realistic image of his father before him. He’s so fucking life-like, the drawl of his criticism dripping with the poison of a basilisk. He’s smiling, and that hurts. It’s malicious.

But then, another whisper. A distant proclamation that rings through the periphery of his hearing. “Draco... always... good enough...”

Fuck. Harry?

“Good enough,” he repeats, the syllables a solid reality, just like the man before him. And, in a sudden fit of realization, Draco realizes the epitome of his salvation.

“You’re not real,” he says, and the words are a bit shaky as they permeate the air. His father’s face twists into something unreadable, a cross between a scowl and utter shock.

“You’re not real.” The wand lowers. His brow narrows.

“You were never real. My father is in Azkaban. You are just the ghost of what he did to me.”

His hands are drifting into the atmosphere, like grains of sand dissipating toward the floor. His expression morphs into utter fear, and, for once, Draco feels powerful.

It was never about defeating him. He could have dualed his fractured subconscious for years, constantly bettering himself, only to fall again. And the wand would always be pointed at his throat

But Harry, Harry said he was good enough. And he can hear the distant titter of Teddy’s amusement, the padding of his socks as they bounce along the hardwood floor of their flat. Of their home.

Harry cares. Loves. And so Draco must love himself.

“You could never kill me,” he says to the air, as the whisp of Lucius Malfoy’s presence fades into nothing. “It was just me, all along. Hurting myself because you trained me to. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fucking fault.”

There’s a sudden whoosh, and the room is spinning. And then it’s not. And Draco Malfoy is sitting next to a blissfully sleeping Harry Potter in a London flat.

The movie is over, and all that remains of the last few minutes is a line of scrolling credits.

The shadows, they’re gone. And somehow, Draco is no longer haunted. The house is peaceful, and a serenity seems to fill it’s every crevice, binding the cracks that once cleaved the walls. He pulls Harry closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Taking a risk he’d never had the confidence to execute.

Harry smiles, stirring a bit before turning his green gaze upward. “That’s nice,” he says, and Draco chuckles.

“Yeah, it is, hm?”

“Hey Draco?”

He doesn’t reply, but meets that vibrant stare of his with irrefutable honesty.

“Thanks for being a part of our family.”

“Family?” The word nervously slips his lips. He’s never done this before.

Harry nods. “You, me, and Teddy.”

His eyes are prickly again, and he swallows a hard lump in the back of his throat. “I love the sound of that. Of family.”

“Good. Because I’ll hex you if you go anywhere. Old habits do die hard, you know.”

Draco laughs, hearty. Whole. Harry snuggles into his shoulder, falling asleep lightly as he thoughtfully plans his next project.

***

The next day, Teddy enters to find Draco drawing a picture of his family at the kitchen table.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks curiously, hopping onto Draco’s lap as he sketches.

The picture before them is a family, a blonde, a brunette, and a tuft or blue hair between them. There are no spaces, no empty holes between their bodies, and the sky is a vibrant array of purples and oranges.

“Let’s hang it on the fridge!” Teddy exclaims, grasping it and running to attach it to the front of the surface.

Draco eyes the picture smiling, and it is the best he’s ever felt.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #teddy lupin #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #draco x harry #drarry squad #draco malfoy x harry potter #dad! draco and harry #facing your inner demons #post war #draco malfoy will forever be my muse for kicking daddy issues to the curb #this was therapy for me

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alilbitofdoodles · 4 years

Text

Some Melizabeth Headcanons

🔞 Warning: it’s basically just fluffy nsfw content 🔞

View on my page so It’s easier to read! Mobile still makes it look like just a bunch of bullet points though.

Meliodas (demon/past) + Elizabeth (goddess)

This Mel is biggest, cranky asshole in the universe. Why he has to ally with the Goddess Clan is beyond him, but fuck if he isn’t a sucker for big blue eyes, long silver hair, and giant tits (he’d rather die than admit it).

Elizabeth, on the other hand, has a big aversion to conflict in general, but goddesses he is such a prick. One time during a mission, the jerk literally groped her ass in front of the enemy. She purposely ‘forgets’ to heal him every now and then as punishment, but always eventually does so in the end.

Meliodas loves to tease and push her past her breaking points. Seeing her normally calm, collected persona come undone, especially by him, is insanely sexy. It’s his innate predator instincts. He thinks it might be a kink.

Elizabeth gives credit where credit is due. Although he’s haughty and overconfident, he gets the job done is actually a great leader/commander. That’s what she finds most attractive about him at first.

They have THE BIGGEST SEXUAL TENSION EVER, but it takes them forever to fuck because they’re both too damn stubborn to give in.

On Mel’s part it’s just his pride because there’s no way he’d ever desire any woman, much less a goddess for that matter. Elizabeth is just naive on the topic. Her knowledge goes as far as kissing and marriage.

Their first time is spur of the moment. One second they’re arguing (somehow seeing her get along with other demons gets under his skin and she argues back that she’s free to talk to whoever) and the next moment they’re in a heated kiss. It’s spontaneous and desperate. They’re outdoors in a forest and anyone could walk in at any moment, but that doesn't deter them. Their movements are frantic and forceful, if not a bit clumsy, as they both reach their climax. Elizabeth finishes twice. Once before him, then a smaller second one when Meliodas relentlessly pounds her until he reaches his own climax.

For a while they pretend that it never happened, but this marks the event where they realize they got it bad for each other.

Meliodas bites and he bites hard. He likes to draw blood and feel her trembling under his lips. He marks what's his and even takes satisfaction in leaving hickies where it would be visible to others.

Of course, Elizabeth heals the wounds much to his displeasure.

One time she missed a spot on the back of her neck and he enjoyed watching her all panicked and flustered trying to explain how she had gotten hurt from behind by a monster to the others.

Elizabeth is highly reactive and oversensitive. She’s super shy and self-conscious. It doesn’t help that most of his comrades on the demon clan are comfortable showing a lot of skin and have voluptuous bodies.

In those moments he thoroughly explores her body, cooing how downright sexy and irresistible she is until she’s begging him to stop all blushy and frazzled.

Meliodas is insanely cuddly for the aftercare. He nuzzles and continues to leave little marks with soft nibbles. Elizabeth let’s him indulge in such intimacy; she loves it as well. He’s so childish and inhibited when he’s like this. He’s allowing himself to be vulnerable to her.

Wing cuddles. That’s all I need to say.

Meloidas’ favorite position is either taking her from behind (he likes to bite her neck and shoulder. As well as kissing her back where her wings would be) or her on top because he loves when she takes control.

Elizabeth enjoys the spooning position because it’s close and cuddly or anything else where she’s able to see his face.

Elizabeth Liones’ and Meliodas’

Before they get together, their relationship is the embodiment of :

first time was birthday sex when she turned 18 and you cannot convince me otherwise. (The time line matches up perfectly for them to travel for a year and her be a couple of months pregnant).

You can bet your ass they probably did some stuff beforehand, but no actual penetration.

On a more serious note, they delayed it for a while because they didn’t even know if they can have a child at first and it deeply hurt them.

Meliodas

Hawk ties him up every night and we all know he’d be able to slip out of the rope easily, but he wanted to be able to give Elizabeth peace of mind and still be able to sleep next to her again.

Every now and then, when he’s sure Ellie is deep asleep, he’ll whisper how much he loves her and vows to keep her safe.

He kisses her on the forehead daily before getting out of bed. Of course, she never knows this.

Surprisingly he doesn’t peek at her when she’s bathing, but he’s always waiting on the bed for ‘his turn’ when in reality he loves seeing her flushed complexion fresh out of the bath.

They have a shared closet and Meliodas likes to tease her by ‘accidentally getting caught’ looking at her underwear.

Initially, Meliodas is a bit apprehensive when getting intimate. He knows Elizabeth’s erogenous zones and what makes her feel the best like it’s second nature, but he can’t trust himself to hold back.

Each first time with her always feels like it’s his first too and he wants to hold her more carefully.

Is still a biter, but this time more considerate. Favorite places to leave marks are her inner thighs and on her breasts (he claims because it’s closer to her heart, but Elizabeth is sure that’s only 50% of the reason why).

Meliodas praises her constantly and desperately moans how much he needs her and oh boy does it render Elizabeth weak and squirming under him.

Body worship 24/7. This man loves giving oral and making sure she reaches absolute bliss and puts her pleasure over his. He loves feeling the heat of her skin and listening to her heartbeat. It assures him that she’s alive and still with him.

Some nights, when the past haunts him, he takes his time in placing kisses on every inch of her body and just soaking up her warmth.

Elizabeth Liones

Before they were able to get her some sleep wear, she wore Meliodas’ shorts and shirts to bed as pajamas for a few days much to her embarrassment.

Some nights she ‘forgets’ to do the laundry and goes to bed in his clothes.

This time she has some knowledge of sex ed, but the opportunity to touch herself is far too few in between. Which is fine, she doesn’t have any particular need to do so. But some nights when Meliodas is asleep she gets very tempted.

Tries to bite as well, but she's too gentle with it to leave a mark; So usually it's just a slobbery red spot or a hickey.

She claws. The pleasure is too intense for her so her unconsciously drags her nails down his back.

She always apologizes afterwards, but Meliodas laughs it off. He always jokingly teases that she’s given him a second pair of wings.

She offers to heal them, but he always vehemently denies it. They’re marks of accomplishment more than anything to him.

She always tries her best to swallow, even if Meliodas tells her not to force herself (he does it to her so it’s only fair! she thinks).

More than half the time she can’t. He drinks way too much booze for it to taste anything less than pure bitterness.

Seeing his sin tattoo while they’re getting intimate always makes her soft. It reminds her of his dedication, their promise, and the never ending cycle they lived through just to be able to love one another.

She specifically likes to give that spot a lot of attention, lavishing it in kisses and words of her endless and profound love for him.

When she’s really in the mood, she makes subtle gestures. Like leaving her underwear in obvious places where he’d find them (after that he immediately hunts her down) or if shes’s feeling bold she’ll take his hand to move it between her thighs.

She keeps the thigh highs and shoes on during sex sometimes.

He likes to snap the bands of her socks while he fucks her.

He’s especially responsive when she hooks her legs around his waist to dig her heel into his skin. She thinks back on the the ropes and how he may be slightly masochistic.

Every now and then she makes them breakfast after a wonderful night of sex and he still eats her food even if it’s not the best because!! He loves her!!

The aftercare is insanely cozy.

If Elizabeth doesn’t pass out from the mind blowing sex that is. On more than one occasion she has passed out. His libido is too strong, but she chalks it up to his demon side.

Meliodas dotes on her because he knows how rough he can get when he gives into his urges.

Every session ends with him carrying her bridal style to the washroom and taking a nice, long bath together.

This could also end up with additional bath sex

#melizabeth #meliodas x elizabeth #I'm writing this instead of working on my drawings or fanfics oopsie #Add to the list too if you wanna!#Would love to see your headcanons #my fics #Spicy Melizabeth

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 years

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What I thought about “Agony of a Witch” from The Owl House

...Well crap. I guess I am reviewing every episode of The Owl House from now on...ARE YOU HAPPY WRITERS?! ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELVES?! ARE YOU SATISFIED?!

...

Anyways, salutations random people on the internet who probably won't read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. And today, I'm reviewing the penultimate episode of The Owl House’s first season: "Agony of a Witch." It goes without saying at this point, but there are going to be HUGE spoilers for both not only the episode but the entire series as a whole. So if you haven't checked out The Owl House yet, I highly recommend you do so. It's an incredible show, and the next episode is the season finale. So now's your last chance to get all caught up. With that done and over with, let's get started, shall we?

WHAT I LIKE

That opening scene: These first few minutes perfectly sets the tone for the episode. The best example of how the tone is set is with the music. Or rather, lack thereof. The establishing shots of Belos' castle could have had grand and imposing music that gives "The Imperial March" a run for its money. But honestly, the pure silence says so much more about how serious this scene than any background motif could. Because while music does an excellent job of telling us how we should feel, no music means that the right feelings are already met. And in this case, the feelings are dread and terror.

But another thing that perfectly sets the tone is the fact that there aren't any jokes in this scene. If you had to ask me, I'd say that The Owl House is a comedy series with drama and story on the side. This is because the opening scene of every episode begins with trying to make the audience laugh with one or two jokes. That is every episode except for this one. Because "Agony of a Witch" does not open with any jokes leaving the audience with laughter. It begins with an ominous threat and leaving the audience in fear. All of which perfectly sets up how gutwrenching this episode is going to be.

Hooty’s an actual security system: But luckily, it doesn't take too long for the laughs to come right on back.

When it was implied that Hooty was the security system that Eda had set for her house, I never understood how or why. But now I do! Because it turns out that Hooty acts as a force of chaos that just annoys his enemies into submission. And I'm gonna level with you for a second: This scene helps make Hooty a fantastic character. For the most part, I find Hooty an annoying character. And it's partially due to his voice...mostly due to his voice...it's because of his voice. But, I'm sorry, a character wins points for me by accidentally beating an army without even knowing they're fighting.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

“It’s because he’s got the hots for you, isn’t it?”: I like the fact that I pointed this out as a joke in my last review, only for this episode to not only address it but almost immediately dismiss it.

Plus, Eda winking with finger guns is always a win. Again, I don't make the rules.

Eda joking about the curse being a fate worse than death: Some people might make the audacious claim that joking about a fate worse than death soils the mood. And I would agree with that if this was actually a joke. Instead, it feels more like Eda is brushing off the tension by trying to laugh at it. That is something that many people-myself included-do to make people we care about feel better. To me, it feels pretty clear that Eda laughs about her situation so that Luz doesn't worry about her mentor. This shows how much Luz means to Eda, and we see something similar/more impactful near the end that cements that fact. For now, this "joke" is actually a great character moment when you take a second to analyze it.

Luz’s plan to steal the Healing Hat: Staying on track of development, let's talk about how much this scene reflects growth with Luz and Eda's relationship. Luz's willingness to steal from the emperor, and break who knows how many laws in the process, shows how much Luz cares about Eda. It's sweet to think about, even though it comes by Luz making the dumbest decision in her life. And while Luz's plan would ordinarily be a dislike, what turns things around is the fact that there are immediate consequences to Luz's actions. Eda's curse being permanent? Eda getting captured? Luz nearly dying?! All of this would have been avoided if Luz just stuck with the group instead of working on impulse. And there's not a doubt in my mind that's what she was thinking during her long trek home (more on that later). So, yeah. While Luz's plan was misguided, it still has the sweetest of intentions while also showing kids that bad stuff happens when you don't think things through.

Amity staying at home: Narratively speaking, this was a great decision. Amity acts as the voice of reason to Luz's antics. So if she went on the trip too, then she would have talked Luz out of the heist. And the writers found a brilliant workaround by having Amity break her leg in the last episode, to work as an excuse for why she isn't in this one. In fact, let's add more points to "Wing it Like Witches" for planning ahead. That alone makes it more clear about how that episode isn't filler.

Eda knits the cape for Luz: While Luz stealing the Healing Hat shows how much Eda means to her, Eda knitting the cape shows the feelings are very much mutual. It's made pretty evident in the beginning that Eda's planning to use the magic silk to protect herself. So having her instantly make the cape for Luz without a second thought is just the sweetest thing. And you know what? Who's to say that Eda wasn't planning to make the cape anyway? And Eda saying that the silk was for her was just a diversion to throw Luz off? Because if that's the case, then boy does that ending break my heart even more.

(Also, this acts as a fantastic setup for why Luz has a cape that makes her invulnerable to the Emperor's magic in the next episode. At least, I think that's the case going off of what Eda says in the beginning.)

The picture of Luz: Ok, am I the only one who would absolutely love an explanation for this picture? Yeah, it's obvious that Luz got into an eating contest to the death, but how did she even get stuck in this contest? Why was she even in this contest? And why was Eda so proud of this moment that she decided to frame it?

Screw the fanfictions of angst and/or Lumity fluff. Someone write a fanfic about THAT!

The tour of the castle: I talked about in my "Wing it Like Witches" review that I like how the show uses teaching the students as a way to give lore to the audience. And that's what Kikimora's tour does. It uses the student's willingness to learn as a way for the fans to learn more about the lore of the show. However, while these bits of background information is nice and all, there's one question I want to bring up:

How honest is this little history lesson about Emperor Belos? Because do you know who’s the one that can make sure history remembers Belos as a kind and just ruler who united the Boiling Isles? My guess is it's the same person who appointed himself as emperor.

Just a little thing to think about, if you ask me.

The Room of Relics: Gonna tell ya the truth: Seeing all of those relics made the inner child in me go, "Oooh. Shiney."

I'm not kidding when I say that I would love to learn more about each of those relics we see in this episode. I want to learn more about each relic's origins, which track they belong to, and what the hell they even do. And it's not often that I feel this way. Hell, I'm mostly the guy who never gives a crap about lore. But you better believe that if Dana Terrace ever writes a book explaining all of these relics, that I'll be the first to buy it.

Emperor Belos: ...Eep…

I'm not kidding when I say that "Eep" is the best way for me to describe Emperor Belos. The reason that makes Belos feel like a terrifying and opposing character is the same way Darth Vader and Thanos are terrifying and opposing. He's a character that feels like a force of nature that is so powerful, he could probably kill you just by blinking. And it's no wonder why Lilith was so terrified to fail him in the last episode. I'd be terrified just to look at the man without his permission! And that was before it was implied that he sacrifices witches who are covenless!

But, Belos frightening the crap out of me isn't the only reason why he's an excellent villain. What makes him great is that in his debut scene, we learn so much about him...and yet have so many more questions. Like, how can he talk to the titan? What's up with the giant beating heart on top of his throne? Why is he sacrificing witches and discarded palisman to give him power? What the f**k is up with the giant beating heart on top of his throne? Why are there pipes littered throughout his castle? AND WHAT! THE F**K! IS UP! WITH THE GIANT! BEATING! HEART! ON! TOP! OF! HIS! THRONE?!?!

Questions like these help make Belos more interesting of a character that I would love to learn more about. Even though seeing him makes me physically shrink in my chair.

Gus being told that he’s already his best self: I mean, this is just sweet. My man Gus needs more love, dang it!

Eda vs. Lilith: It's like the animators saw the first fight between Eda and Lilith and asked, "How can we make this more awesome?" Turns out, the answer is to make the fight more like an anime than the first one. And MAN, was it successful! However, being epic is not the main reason why it's a captivating fight scene. Because as excellent as it was to see Eda and Lilith fight for the first time, their battle lacked one crucial element that’s in their second fight: Tension. Eda's curse getting worse with each spell and Luz being in constant danger adds so much more tension to this fight. And as a result, it becomes more entertaining to watch Eda fight knowing the odds are highly stacked against her. Because even though Eda was destined to lose, you still hope for the best that she'll somehow win. Which makes her ultimate defeat all the more heartbreaking.

LILITH CURSED EDA?!: What?! WHAT?!

I mean, I expected Eda to lose and get captured. That was something I saw a mile away since watching the promo a few months ago. But revealing that Lilith is the one who cursed Eda?! I could have never predicted that! It was such a shocking revelation that I cannot wait to see how the show handles this going forward. Because, the way I see it, Eda is cutting ties with Lilith after this episode. Even if Lilith has some sort of logical explanation, none of it will matter to Eda. Hell, it already doesn't matter to the fans, who are already jumping on the "Kick Lilith's teeth in" train. As for me, I'm going to wait for the actual explanation before I make any judgments. It is made pretty clear that Lilith regrets what she's done in not only in this episode but through small interactions with Eda in the past. It might not justify her actions, but I am still willing to hear the full story before I come to the conclusion that Lilith must burn in hell. Unless her reasoning was petty revenge or jealousy. In which case, I would like to introduce Lilith to my good friend Frederick Ulisinsburg.

*Lifts up middle finger*

You can call him F.U. for short.

Eda’s goodbye to Luz: Everything about this moment is gutwrenching perfection. I want to start off by talking about the fact that Eda smiles as she's saying goodbye. Earlier I touched upon that Eda joked about having a fate worse than death was an attempt to relieve tension off of Luz. And it's the same thing here. Eda smiling is the only way she can convey to Luz that everything's going to be ok so that her protege won't be upset about their situation. There are just two things that betray Eda during this sentiment. The first is her voice. You can tell that Eda is trying her best to stay emotionally stable for Luz, but it's clear how she's really feeling through each crack in her voice. And credit goes to Wendie Malick for giving such a marvelous performance in this scene. The second thing that betrays Eda is her eyes. Every ounce of pain and sadness that Eda is feeling at this moment can be seen through her eyes. Don't believe me? Then watch this scene again, cover Eda's mouth, and focus on the eyes. You'll see what I'll mean.

And her last word to Luz being "Thank you for being in my life." That cuts deep man...IT CUTS DEEP...GAH!

Luz walks home: It's the moments that you don't experience that can have the most weight to them. We, as the audience, have no idea what happened with Luz as she walked all the way back to the Owl House. But the things we can imagine are much worse. The guilt Luz must be feeling during this walk, as every awful thing that she experienced replays in her mind, like a broken record. The idea of Luz going through something like that just...It just breaks the heart.

“Where’s Eda?”: It's the innocent way that King asks this question is what makes it sad. It shows the childlike naivety in King's character, and imagining what his reaction would be to the truth, makes it even more tear jerking.

Luz cries: Nope. Nope! NOPE!

I will accept a lot of things from this episode. Eda getting captured? Sure. Luz having a literal guilt trip? Why not? King getting to learn the hard way about what happened to Eda? Go for it! But you know what I won't accept? LUZ F**KING CRYING! I'm being one-hundred percent serious when I say that it physically hurts to look at that one single image. Even just thinking about it is enough to make me misty-eyed. And I HATE IT! I mean, I love it because the show successfully made me feel the exact emotions that I should feel. BUT I HATE IT!

WHAT I DISLIKED

I honestly wish I could say that there is nothing that I dislike about this episode. I really do. But there is one small thing that-very briefly-took enjoyment out of the episode. And that’s-

The Kids easily sneaking past the guards: Don't get me wrong, the funny antics that our trio pull off are very entertaining. But it shines a bad light on the Emperor's coven, when the best of the best witches get outsmarted by three children. Plus, this is the penultimate episode of the season. I'm not sure goofy hijinks are the way you want to go. Because while The Owl House is a comedy series, even the funniest of comedies know when to make jokes and when to be serious.

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But despite that one complaint, I still give this episode an A+. It was emotionally draining, and it makes both more excited and incredibly terrified for the season finale. Because we now know the stakes for the next episode. The question is, how will Luz survive.

Now, I'm sure there are people out there who probably hate this episode, and probably the whole series if you want to get into it. And to those people: I feel bad for you. And I'm not saying that as a joke or as a snarky remark. I legitimately feel bad for you. Because I felt a whole range of emotions not just with one episode, not just with one scene, but with one single frame of animation. That image of Luz crying was more effective in getting a reaction out of me than anything else that came out this year. And the idea that some of you won't feel the same way fills me with even more Agony.

#the owl house #the owl house review #what i thought about

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dreaming-gamer · 4 years

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DMC Week day 5: Hurt, Heal, Happiness – Nico & V

This work is lightly tied to my day 2 & 3, but can also be read as a standalone fic. Hope you enjoy!

No warnings, just fluff ahoy, no shipping.

V turned carefully in his bed for what felt like the thousandth time and yet only 10 minutes had passed since he last laid eyes on the clock. This was not a phenomenon he was too familiar with. Pushing forward while having slept too little had been common in his life, but not staying awake when he had the opportunity to sleep.

Shadow was curled up by his feet, a warm lump of fur, he didn’t know how many times his feet had brushed against her every time he needed to move. And yet V couldn’t tell why he felt this need, why he simply couldn’t just fall asleep as he was supposed to. Night reigned outside, cloaking the room in darkness, except for the lamp in the hall that Kyrie always made sure was on, in case any of the boys woke up. The youngest supposedly feared the dark, even asked V to check under his bed for monsters once, instead of Kyrie or Nero. V had checked, assured him it was nothing to be afraid of, when Griffon had chimed in with a helpful “The real monsters are outside!” With the bird banned from the children's bedtime stories from now on, it took about 15 more minutes for the child to calm down. Said bird was currently sprawled out over the other pillow, snoozing soundly.

It surely wasn’t the idea of monsters under the bed that kept V awake, he had been tired throughout the day, but now any sense of heaviness in his eyelids was just gone.

Finally, he gave up, letting out a sigh as he lifted his legs over the edge of the bed. The motions sent a feeling of ache through the bruises decorating his body, but the arm sling kept his arm where it should. It didn’t hurt as badly anymore, the red swelling having died down along with most of the pain, but Kyrie insisted he kept taking pain relievers so he could rest easier. Bless her warm soul, V could see why Nero got along well with her.

Shadow moved as V got up from the bed, leaving her spot to join him. Perhaps a cup of tea or simply a change of room would make him more inclined to sleep in a little while.

“Hihi, fry...” Griffon half snickered in his sleep, his master shaking his head with a smirk. What did a nightmare even dream of? Perhaps he should ask in the morning. His feline familiar and his cane supporting his slow steps, V made his way towards the kitchen.

The lamp on the hallway table lit up just enough for him to not step on one of the toys that the kids always seemed to leave loitering about. Shadow grabbed it in her mouth, moving it to the box of toys with her tail standing up straight up. She enjoyed order, he had learned and keeping an eye on the little ones was her forte, whenever V didn’t need her immediate assistance.

A picture was put up on the hallway wall, of a younger Nero and Kyrie, along with the children even younger than they were now. Kyrie was smiling, Nero looking a tad defiant into the camera, as if he’d dare the photographer to lay a hand on Kyrie or any of the kids. V got the feeling the Nero in the photos were much angrier than the one he knew and that said something. With interest, V’s green eyes continued to take in details, spotting the beginnings of a drawing on the wallpaper behind Kyrie’s white dresser.

There were just signs of a living family everywhere he looked and though V had been reluctant to impose upon them like that, they had still allowed him to stay, while he searched for a home of his own. He envisioned himself having a library, just a quiet space to read between missions because sometimes that was severely lacking in this house, with three lively children.

A kitchen such as Kyrie’s, old but cozy with a small walk-in pantry truly didn’t sound so bad, even though his expertise in the kitchen was certainly nothing to brag about. Kyrie had taken it upon herself to show him some of the basics and V found her teachings much more helpful than the occasional recipes he did try to follow.

As he opened up a cupboard, the smell of tea drifted towards him, a selection of flavors on display, perhaps chamomile would allow him to wind down enough for some sleep. Being limited to only one hand was making itself known now, as he had to do every step one at a time. As he moved to start the electric kettle, setting it in the sink to start the water, he was surprised to hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Was he not the only one having trouble sleeping? At first, he suspected one of the children as Kyle had a tendency to wake up during the night and head for Nero and Kyrie’s room, but the footsteps were not light enough.

“Oh-hee, I didn’t take you for the nightsnack kinda guy V.” A cheerful voice suddenly said, followed by a yawn as Nico stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a light top and pajama pants. Her black hair was exceptionally wavy, not put up in a ponytail or held back by the plaited hairband for once. It was unusual to see her like that, but V found it to suit her.

“I would not say that I am.” He admitted with a small smirk. “I was just thinking of having some tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Trouble sleeping?” Nico wondered, glancing at what he was doing.

“Yes.” V admitted, some stray water droplets hitting his hand as he turned the faucet on. “You as well?”

“Nah, I’ll probably fall asleep in minutes if I lay down again. After a snack that is. Rice crackers?” She grinned, opening another cupboard and grabbing a colorful plastic package, crackling in her hands. Cheese-flavored was printed on the front.

V gave her a little nod, the electric kettle starting to heat up from the flip of a switch, all they had to do now was wait. Nico pulled out cups for them, setting them on the counter as V leaned himself towards said counter, just for a bit. His muscles ached slightly, but it felt more as if it was because he was stiff from the lack of moving the last week, rather than actual pain.

“Are ya hurtin’?” She wondered, standing beside him. “That’s what’s keeping you from sleeping?”

V wondered if he was seeing concern, behind her red-rimmed glasses.

“No, Kyrie handed me a painkiller before bed. I simply feel as if... I have passed a threshold. Earlier, I was tired but I did not act on it. Right now on the other hand, I should be tired but sleep fails to claim me.”

“Whatcha talking about, can happen to anyone really.” Nico pointed out, her hand slipping to where her belt used to be but stopped when she realized no cigarette was available.

V hummed in thought.

“I admit it to be a new experience. I don’t mind the quiet of the night, but I know I should sleep…”

“Maybe ya just need a hug?” Nico said, tone teasing yet sincere. So sincere in fact that V was unsure of what to answer, straight away. Was that… alright to ask for? He had so little experience with human contact of that kind, yet he could not deny an interest in it.

A laugh slipped out of Nico when he realized his answer was overdue, his gaze upon her probably showing more of his inner thoughts than he meant for it to.

But her laughter wasn’t ill willed, in fact there was just a tone of mirth to it that he had come to associate with Nico.

“It’s not rocket science, come here!”

And then, her arms were around him. Just like that. Warm, careful because of his injured arm but oh so… soothing nonetheless. V carefully maneuvered his other arm over her back, holding on. It felt like she didn’t mind and he liked to return the favor. The sense of warmth, spreading in his chest. Her hair smelled lightly of shampoo with a spicy scent along with just a trace of tobacco and oil.

“Feels nice huh?” She said against him, V didn’t need to see her face to know that she was grinning, her jolly tone said it all.

“Yes. It does.” He spoke softly, holding on for just a little longer. The ache and pain he had faced this time felt so minor, compared to the terrifying feeling of falling apart. And yet this gesture felt like it soothed so much of it. Like the balm Kyrie had helped administer over the healing cracks in his skin, just on a deeper level.

“Thank you… Nico.” A soft vibrating feeling as she let out a light laugh under his hand.

“Anytime, ya hear?” Bubbles assaulted the inside of the electric kettle for a second, until the device shut itself off. “Let’s get that tea ready, we’re moving to the living room.” The mechanic added as she slowly let him go.

“We are…?” V asked, puzzled.

“Yep, I’m gonna show ya a little somethin’.” She told him, grinning from ear to ear. V knew not what she could possibly mean, but the fact that she was willing to spend some more time with him, in the middle of the night when she really could go and sleep some more was very thoughtful. To the point where he didn’t want to ask it of her, but Nico was already moving. She poured hot water into their cups and added the teabags, passing the rice cracker package to V and grabbing the cups herself, leading the way to the living room. V slowly followed, making sure to have his cane make as little noise as possible as he stepped through the hall. Shadow walked beside him, quiet but approving of the fact that Nico had chosen a cup with a black cat on it for V.

Gleaming moonlight touched the wooden surface of the living room table as Nico put down their cups and moved on, crouching by the TV. With a quizzical look, V followed her movements.

“Are you suggesting we watch… TV at this hour?” He asked, puzzled by the idea. Would not the noise wake the rest of the household?

“Uh huh, a Disney movie might just do ya good. Pinocchio sound okay?” Nico looked up, the grin on her face barely visible from the mere amount of light the moon granted them.

“I don’t recognize the title.” He answered truthfully, setting the package on the living room table.

“But ya know Disney?”

“Only that the children seem to enjoy those movies.”

“Hoo boy V, we’ve got something to catch up on here then, whenever ya can’t sleep. Go on, sit!” Nico half ordered him.

Thinking it was probably just for the best to play along for now, V lowered himself onto the couch, moving a toy figure of a… turtle on two legs(?) from one of the cushions, lest he would sit on it.

“Will this not wake the others up?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep the sound low!” Nico assured, the TV flaring to life with the push of a button and she came back to the couch, nestling herself down beside him, on his good side and grabbing for the quilts. The warm quilt that Kyrie always used was suddenly put over V, while Nico spread a yellow one over herself, while the movie was starting itself up.

This was certainly not a situation V had imagined himself ending up in, when he had found himself unable to sleep…

“If yer not gonna sleep anyway, might as well do something productive!” Nico stated, tearing a hole in the noisy rice cracker package and offered him a bite.

“Productive might not be the word I would use.” V admitted, but he nevertheless took a cracker.

“Relaxing then. Enjoy yer first look at kids movie history.” Nico said.

And enjoy it V did, sitting alongside a friend in the middle of the night, watching the story of a puppet who wished to be a real boy unfold, between sips of tea and one or two salty crackers and Nico’s commentary. Shadow laid at their feet, keeping them warm.

Slowly, oh so slowly the colorful pictures let his brain relax itself, the narrative turning no less interesting, but the cozy quilt, company and relaxation creeping up on him. Nico’s head rested against his shoulder, a comfortable, anchoring weight. Eyelids finally feeling heavy, V let his head dip, slowly against hers, the sounds of an old animated movie guiding the last of his conscious to a soft sleep.

What awaited Nero and Kyrie when they woke up the next morning was the words of the youngest orphan, being sad he hadn’t been invited to movie night, as well as the sleeping figures of Nico and V, resting against each other and the TV showing the loop of the movie's main menu since hours ago.

#dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry v #devil may cry nico #fluff #day 5 #my writing #dmc5 v #dmc5 nico

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thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild · 3 years

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25 more things I learned during a global pandemic from your Local Teenage Train wreck :) (Pt. 2)

1. Gaining weight is okay. Losing weight is okay. Bodies fluctuate and are inconsistent. Just make sure that you’re trying your best to be healthy, whatever that means for you.

2. School is hard, especially during a global. freaking. pandemic. Don’t beat yourself up if it’s harder to get up in the morning or your grades aren’t as high as they usually are. It’s hard right now.

3. You’re mental health comes above all. School, responsibilities, and personal projects are not worth your time if it’s affecting your mental health. If your gut is telling you to take a break, take a break!

4. If you feel lonely, get a plant to keep in your room. Do some research as to that plants do best with the type of lighting in your room, and figure out some basic care instructions. Have someone to take care of besides yourself. Name your plants, and take care of them.

5. Even if you’re not good at writing, I suggest you keep a journal during this time. It kept me sane over the summer, and even though I eventually stopped because of limited time with school starting back up, it helped to keep me sane in the worst of the pandemic.

6. If you’re spiritual (or even if you’re not) learn how to do shadow work. This isn’t anything that has to be spiritual or done in just one religion. It’s basically giving yourself a chance and a space to be open and honest with yourself and to learn what you might need to work on through writing. If you google it, you can find a more in depth explanation, and prompts to start doing it. You basically give yourself a prompt. They can be questions like “What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone else or yourself?” or they can be a little less heavy like “What are five non physical things that you genuinely like about yourself?”. This can be pretty heavy, and can dig up some unwanted emotions, but that’s the whole point; to deal with the emotions you may have been repressing and letting fester inside of you.

7. On days when you’re not feeling well mentally, take a break. It’s okay to drop everything and get an extra hour of sleep, read, or do something else to make yourself feel better.

8. After hard days, I know the last thing you want to do is get up and continue on, but here are some ways to do it:

- lay out an outfit that’s put together, but not as over the top. No sweat pants or crappy clothes, but it doesn’t have to be your usual put together outfits with a full face of makeup. A nice crewneck and a nice pair of black athletic leggings can go a long way.

-wear your comfort jewelry. I wear my beaded necklace that I bought for myself, the silver ring my grandma gave me and the gold cross ring that my mom gave to me when I got confirmed.

-eat breakfast. A handful of cereal will do. Anything. But eat something. I like to make oatmeal. It sounds boring but if you make it right, it tastes just perfect for mornings when you don’t feel hungry but know inside that you are. Recipe is next on the list :)

-go to school. I know you want to lay in bed. I know the last place you want to be is a crowded building full of pubescent teens that aren’t nice, but go. Go to learn. Go to absorb knowledge like a sponge, and don’t worry if you fail and lose some of the water, because you can always soak it up later.

-if you have practice, rehearsal, a game, whatever, be gentle on yourself. Today might not be your best day physically, because the brain controls everything. Forgive yourself if you can’t land that double pirouette, get to the high note, or make that assist. You’re abilities are stagnant, and they’re going to change depending on how you feel

-When you get home, turn off your phone. Friends, social media, etc. can wait. Set a timer for one hour. Do work for just that hour. When the timer rings, finish what you were doing and then stop. Now have a 20 minute break and do something that’s not screen related. Read a book, draw something; heck, stare at the wall for 20 minutes and space out. When the timer rings, do another hour and repeat the same process until it’s all done.

-have a playlist you listen to to heal you. Sad boi hours are ok, just make sure to have a playlist of songs that get you moving again.

-Sleep. Even if that means putting off work for tomorrow. It’s ok. You really need it.

9. Oatmeal seems gross until you know how to prepare it. When you do, it’s revolutionary. It’s a high volume, low calorie food, so you’ll stay full for a while without overeating, all while consuming less calories than you would with a traditional breakfast cereal.

The right way to make it:

-measure out half a cup of old fashioned oats. Not steel cut. Those aren’t as good.

-MOST IMPORTANT STEP: add half a cup of water and half a cup of milk of your choice. I personally like almond milk because it’s kind of sweet already even when it’s unsweetened.

-SECOND MOST IMPORTANT STEP: add a pinch of salt, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and allspice, and a teaspoon or two of maple syrup. This is what makes it taste palatable. It’s less sugar than store-bought, and tastes amazing.

-Microwave that shit for one minute and stir. It should look kind of lumpy, but not a ton. Then, put another minute on. Stir at every half increment. (After 30 seconds, every 15 seconds, and then every 7) This is so it doesn’t boil over. Then, take it out, stir it one last time, and let it sit for a second.

-Wash up some berries to put in it. I love blueberries and or blackberries.

perfect oatmeal every. single. time. Feel free to add more toppings like nuts or if you wanna treat yourself chocolate or substitute the spices, but this is honestly one of my favorite breakfasts that keeps me full throughout the day.

10. Learn a new language. Yes, Duolingo is annoying, but do it. Find one that you’ll like to learn and that’s easy for you. Try them on like old clothes and find one that fits just right. For me, it’s French. Expose yourself to that language. Listen to music, read books (or try to) and watch movies with subtitles. Soon enough, you’ll be eager to learn more.

11. Learn how to use notion.com. It’s super amazing. You can literally keep track of your entire life there. It’s pretty fun to use as well. I made schedules for each day after school, a reading log, a want to read list, a personal habit tracker, etc, and they’re all extremely helpful.

12. Make a list of things you weren’t allowed to do as a kid and do one every day. Heal your inner child by finally itching the spot that may not have been scratched for years.

13. Learn how to make origami stars. They’re really easy, and I can’t recommend Maqaroon’s (Joanna’s) video on how to make them enough. Once you’ve got it down, get yourself a nice big jar and write down things you’re grateful for on the slips of paper you’re going to fold. Fill up your gratitude jar and make a wish once it’s full. It will come true.

14. Have 30 minutes a day to put your phone down and read. Yes. You will have to sacrifice something to do this, but it’s so important and good for not only information retention and learning, but for mental health as well. Even if you have to get up half an hour earlier to do it, it’s worth it.

15. It’s okay to be alone, but learn to recognize the difference between alone and lonely. If you’re lonely, here are some things to do:

-write a letter to a friend. It’s something nice you can do for yourself and others, and it’s not feeding into the toxic instant reply culture that we live in

-read a book or watch a show that gets you to connect with the characters, even if that means (I've said it before and I’ll say it again) rereading a favorite ya series or binging atla for the fiftieth time. It’s good for the soul.

-take a walk and smile at the people you see coming past. Again, it’s good for the soul.

-go to the coffee shop and ask the barista to make you a drink that tastes like “_____” (insert whatever you want there. It could be a color, song, feeling, etc.) It’s weird and uncomfortable, but it gives you a conversation starter and 9.9 times out of 10 a really good drink. (Also helpful for when you think the barrista’s cute)

-Reading in general. It opens up so many new worlds with the turn of a page.

16. Monitor your food intake. No, don’t restrict your food intake, monitor it. This means first seeing exactly what your putting in your body and altering it to gradually improve to a clean diet. Humans weren’t built to process all the preservatives, additives and sugars found in most processed food (cereals, chips, anything in a foil bag that’s either really sweet or really salty) and it’s important to cut down and if possible eliminate as much as you can of it out of your diet. Food is fuel, and you truly are what you eat. You’ll notice that by increasing your vegetable intake, reducing white processed sugars and carbs*, and cutting out sodas/extra sugars, that you’ll feel better. This isn’t a weight loss thing, but you may start to trim down a little bit once you go more intense with it. You don’t have to eliminate anything fully, and please enjoy your favorite “bad” foods! Everything in moderation is perfect! Just make sure that you’re getting the good stuff in there too! *Side note, do NOT cut out carbs! See my post on how I’m losing weight to get more into depth on this.

17. Buy fresh flowers for yourself. Who says that you have to wait for someone else? That’s completely false, and you should totally treat yourself to a nice bouquet on occasion, especially in the dead of winter.

18. The whole idea of self love is flawed. Loving yourself has nothing to do with the way you look. Loving yourself comes with genuinely loving your life. If you don't love the way you’re living, change it. Make and set goals. Fail at achieving those goals. Get back up and try again until you finally get it, but make sure that whatever you’re doing, you’re doing to love the life you live. Life doesn’t live you. You live life.

19. Have candles and incense. (Or a diffuser if you’re not allowed to burn stuff) Making your environment smell good makes a huge difference

20. Once you turn 18, get a tattoo. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Pick something small and get it behind your ear, on your ankle, wrist, fingers, whatever. You’ll love having the memory when your old.

21. Realize your worth. We often put ourselves down because we think that valuing ourselves is equivalent to selfishness. It’s not. At all. You are just as important as everyone else. Your voice matters too.

22. Go to art museums

23. Go to free concerts in the park

24. Expose yourself to new art, ideas, and literature

25. Life is gonna suck sometimes. It’s just how it is. That doesn’t mean a bad day’s gonna last forever. As cheesy as it is, keep your head up :)

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years

Text

Found My Place Chapter 1: Secret

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: main YoonJin, side VMin (mentioned) Rating: Explicit

Genres: angst, smut Tags (for entire fic): idol AU (canonverse), transgender character, transgender Seokjin, FTM Seokjin, transphobia, pre-debut, misgendering, bisexual Yoongi, supportive Yoongi, discussion of gender confirming surgeries and HRT, virgin Seokjin, sex anxiety, first time, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, generic and scientific terms for female bodied genitals, squirting, barebacking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, angst with a happy ending

Summary: Jin has a secret that could ruin BTS before they even had a chance to debut. To make matters worse (and better) Yoongi is determined to pursue him to the ends of the earth. Is balancing his secrets and his life possible, or will it all come toppling down around him?

Chapter Word Count: ~3.2k

“Hey, do you wanna go grab dinner tonight? My treat.” Yoongi’s voice was soft. Jin glanced up from his phone. Yoongi was chewing his bottom lip, looking far more timid than usual.

“Something wrong?” Jin worried.

“No. Just. Hm.” Yoongi frowned a little, his brows furrowed. He settled onto the floor across from Jin and put his arms around his knees. The dorm was surprisingly quiet, a rarity with seven boys living in a confined space.

“You look like something’s up.”

“Do you like me, Jin-hyung?”

“What? Of course.” Jin smiled a little. “Why would you think I don’t?”

“Not as a friend. But more.”

Jin hesitated, tilting his head a little. The question sent painful daggers of anxiety straight to his stomach. “What’s bringing this on, Yoongi?”

Yoongi huffed, scrubbing his hands through his hair and ruffling it. Jin bit back the chuckle at its messy state, reaching out and flattening it. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t get it. You’re… So damn perfect,” Yoongi mumbled. “I’m not good talking about this shit.”

“You can tell me anything.” Jin touched his arm instinctively, offering a small smile.

“I want to kiss you,” Yoongi blurted, biting his lips immediately after and diverting his eyes. “I want… I mean I want to date you. We’ve shared a space for a while now and some days I feel like you feel the same way. But then other days you seem so weirdly standoffish and I get confused. And I know you don’t want to risk the group but… Jimin and Tae are dating and we’re all fine with that.”

Jin sighed softly. “Yoongi,” he said softly.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Give me that pitiful sounding voice. I misunderstood, didn’t I?” Yoongi curled in on himself a little more, his shoulders sagging in.

“I’m not pitying you. I do like you, Yoongi.”

“Then why when I ask…” Yoongi shrugged.

“Because things are more complicated for me than they are for Jimin or Tae. You don’t need that stress.”

“Why do you get to decide if I need it?” Yoongi asked, perking up a little. “I’m an adult too. If you were here I’d be the eldest of the group. I’m not some child for you to baby like the maknaes.”

“No, of course not.” Jin sighed, wanting more than anything to fix this. “But this isn’t something simple. It’s not like dating in secret or being gay in our industry. This is bigger.”

“What is it, hyung?”

“I can’t.”

Yoongi’s injured expression shifted to anger. “Why not? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then why can’t you just tell me? What’s stopping you from dating me? From telling me the truth? You talk big about taking care of us but you keep secrets!” He snapped.

Jin winced. “Don’t yell, please.”

“I’m not.” Yoongi huffed and rose from the floor. “Forget about it.”

“Yoongi—”

“No. You can talk to me when you’re ready. Or don’t. Forget I said anything.” He stormed out, slamming the door loud enough that Jin winced.

Jin dropped his face into his hands, groaning softly. He really did like Yoongi. They’d been flirting on and off since he moved into the dorm with them. Yoongi was so different than him, but a perfect complement. He’d spent more time than he’d like to admit daydreaming about how Yoongi’s mouth would feel, how nice it would be to hold his hands non-platonically, to cuddle with him while they all watched a movie. He was mildly envious when Jimin and Taehyung admitted they wanted to begin dating – He’d have given anything to be able to ask Yoongi out. But it was too scary. And too dangerous. The secret that Jin held so close to himself was one that could wreck them before they even debuted.

***

Nearly two weeks passed without incident after their argument. Though Jin tried his best to refrain from flirting with Yoongi – and Yoongi seemed to be doing the same – there was no bad blood between the two. Between choreography practice, vocal lessons, and recordings, bad blood would have been difficult to hold anyway.

The group was just finishing up their choreography practice for the day when the door opened. Their manager entered, looking stern.

“Jin. CEO needs to see you.”

Jin felt his heart leap into his throat. He bowed regardless. “I’ll be right in, let me clean myself up.”

“He said now.” The manager motioned toward the door, making no move to leave before Jin followed. Jin could feel the eyes of every other member on him as he made his way to the door, struggling to regulate his breathing both from dancing and from fear.

The walk up to the CEO’s office had never felt longer. A thousand possibilities raced through Jin’s mind. Was he going to be let go? Told not to debut? Did something happen to a family member? Did someone outside the company find out… The final one was the worst thought. And it was the one that stuck with Jin even as he stood outside the door.

“Get in here, please,” Bang called.

Jin entered, bowing as low as he could manage remaining upright. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Here.” Bang held out a small stack of paper. “I’ll cut to the chase. We lined up a surgeon for you.”

Jin’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help the smile that tweaked the edges of his mouth up. “Really?”

“Mm. You’ll leave tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? That’s so soon.” Jin said, taking the papers from Bang.

“We need it done soon. He informed us you could take a few months to recover and we can’t afford that. We want the group to debut in under six months time and I won’t have it held up because of your surgery. You need it done immediately and you will start working out as soon as you’re able.”

“Of course.” Jin bowed. “What do I tell the others?”

“Family emergency. Break. Injury. Don’t care. You’ll need two weeks at least, maybe an additional two if you heal slow.”

Jin nodded. “Thank you. Family emergency sounds the safest.”

Bang waved his hand, signaling the end of the conversation. Jin bowed once more and hurried out, heading toward the changing room.

He peeked in, checking to make sure the other members weren’t in yet. Coast was clear. He headed to the locker he’d shoved his things into and put the papers into his backpack before stripping out of his shirt. Another nervous glance around. He hated the expectation to change in a group. It had made him nervous in school and now made him nervous for entirely different reasons.

The room seemed to still be empty, so Jin undid the tie on his pants and let them drop, sitting down to remove his sneakers and the sweats. He tugged off his binder, drawing in a deep breath as the pressure on his ribs relaxed. Two weeks off or not – he would be relieved to not have to try and exercise normally in one of those again. He glanced down in disdain at his chest. Even after fifteen odd years, he still found looking at himself without the binder disturbing and painful. That would be over soon. He smiled softly at the idea and reached for his clean binder, hidden in his backpack.

A soft gasp broke the silence in the changing room. Jin’s throat closed in a panic and he grabbed his shirt, slamming it over his chest as he looked around wildly. “Who’s there?” He called softly, pulse pounding in his ears. There was a soft rustle and Yoongi stepped from around the lockers, his eyes diverted. He laced his fingers together in front of him, looking sheepish.

“Just me.”

“Were you spying on me?” Jin spat, squeezing his arms even tighter over his chest.

“I wasn’t meaning to.”

“Get out!” Jin’s voice broke. “Don’t mention this to anyone!” He turned his back to Yoongi, struggling to tug the clean binder over his head. His heart was pounding and his nose burned as frightened tears threatened to fall. He was ruined. The group would find out, and then Bang would find out that they knew and they might never debut. It would wreck their lives and it’d be all his fault.

Jin blinked away the tears, fixing the binder. He turned back around, surprised to see Yoongi still there, now looking politely at the floor. “I told you to go away,” Jin croaked.

“Is this your secret, hyung?” Yoongi whispered, looking up carefully. Seeing that Jin was covered, he looked up fully.

Jin remained silent, chewing his inner cheek. He felt his entire face burning, his vision blurring with tears. “Please,” he finally whispered.

“Hyung—”

“Stop it,” Jin muttered, turning to face his locker. He sniffled. “You know I’m not.”

“Not what?” Yoongi stepped forward. “You’re Jin-hyung. You’re the eldest of Bangtan, aren’t you? Shoulders gangster and best cook in the dorm. The big brother.”

Jin broke, whimpering softly at the tears slid down his cheeks. “He won’t let us debut if anyone knows. Please… Forget you saw this.”

Yoongi reached out for Jin. He flinched away instinctively, and Yoongi winced. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jin wiped his nose angrily and grabbed his clean shirt, yanking it over his head. He dug around for his jeans.

“What surgery was he talking about?”

Jin hesitated, glancing over at Yoongi. “You were spying.”

“I was worried,” Yoongi admitted. “You looked so scared leaving the room… I told the guys I was gonna see what was going on. I was going to call out to you after but you hurried in here so fast looking like you were scared. I wanted to see what was wrong. I see now—”

“That I’m a fucking girl?” Jin snapped.

Yoongi blinked. “I see that you aren’t shaped like a boy, sure… But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a girl, right? You’ve gone this whole time as our brother…”

“I’m trans.” Jin mumbled the word as soft as he could, shame coloring his features further. Yoongi nodded.

“I figured. The company knew? When they hired you?”

Jin nodded. “Turn around,” he said. When Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, Jin held up his clean boxers and jeans. “I’m sweaty and gross. Let me change. I won’t run away.”

“Right. I’ll change too.” Yoongi went to his own locker a few feet down, busying himself with digging out clothes. Jin changed out of his sweaty boxers and into his clean clothes as quickly as he could. He was surprised to see Yoongi changing as normal, not bothering to hide his body as he tugged on his clean items.

“Yeah, the company knew,” Jin finally mumbled. Yoongi fixed his jeans and sat down, pulling his sneakers back on.

“That’s what you meant when I asked you to date me. About it being bigger.”

Jin nodded. “Aren’t you glad you dodged that bullet?”

Yoongi looked over, confusion coloring his features. He tilted his head. “Dodged… What bullet?”

“Me. I mean, if you’d kept pursuing me. Finding out I’m…”

“What?” Yoongi rose, approaching Jin slowly. “You think I like you less because you’re trans?”

Jin shrugged. “Probably. You pursued me to date a guy.”

“I pursued you to date you, idiot. If you said this very second you wanted that date I’d make plans for dinner tonight. You really think I’m that shallow?”

“No, I just—” Jin shrugged. “I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak. I’m sorry you feel that way… I’m sure we haven’t done a great job of making you feel less like one either.”

“You guys aren’t at fault.”

“You should have felt comfortable telling us the truth. Like we’d have your back.”

Jin shook his head. “It’s in my contract. I can’t tell any of you. We could lose our shot of debut if I did.”

“That’s fucked. This is a vital part of you. Even if we had to hide it from the public, this is you, hyung! Why couldn’t you tell us?”

“Come on. A girl living with six boys? Even if the public didn’t find out, think of how it might seem.”

“But you’re not. You’re just another boy. Who cares if you don’t have a dick?” Yoongi paused. “I mean—You… Don’t?”

Jin shook his head, hanging it. “No. Still girl parts.”

“That was the surgery Bang was talking about?”

“Top surgery. To reform my chest. I can’t debut wearing a binder, fans would notice.”

“And the shirt lifts, yeah… I get it.” Yoongi sighed softly. “I don’t like that they told you to hide something so important from us… But I won’t tell anyone. Not until you’re ready to.” Yoongi reached out and grabbed Jin’s hand. “Then I’ll stand with you when you do.”

Jin closed his eyes, fighting back tears once more – This time ones of relief. “Yoongi—”

“Hey, hyung…” Yoongi smiled when Jin opened his eyes. “Don’t be scared. You’re a part of our group, okay? You’re our eldest. We’ll never let you fall.”

Jin drew in a shaky breath, his face twisting a little as he struggled not to sob. He went forward, hugging Yoongi tightly.

Yoongi gasped and Jin pulled back, embarrassed. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I know that’s… Probably different now. Knowing… Thanks anyway.” Jin turned, shoving his clothes into his backpack. It was his turn to tense when Yoongi snaked his arms around his middle, hugging his back.

“It’s not different. I just wasn’t expecting it. Don’t be different around me just because I know, hyung. That would break my heart.”

Jin turned, still in the circle of Yoongi’s arms. He looked down at him. Yoongi smiled crookedly.

“I wasn’t lying before… I do like you. I just know someone like me has so much baggage… That’s so much to handle.”

“What is?” Yoongi shrugged, still not letting go. “I’ll keep your secret whether you were dating me or not. I might fuck up. I’ve never had a friend who’s trans, so I might make mistakes. And I want you to correct me if I say something insensitive. But it doesn’t change anything. And it’s not too much baggage. So, if that’s the only thing keeping this from becoming something more… Please don’t let it. I’ll be waiting for you if you want me.”

Jin nodded. “I can’t… Not… Not with so much coming up. Please just… Give me a while to think?”

“Always.” Yoongi squeezed his middle. “So, are you really leaving tomorrow?”

Jin nodded. “The travel plans and stuff are what they gave me today.”

“You’ll text me, right? Tell me when you’re going under and how it went?”

“I—”

“What’s the good in having a friend who knows if can’t share? And selfishly…” Yoongi shrugged, letting go of Jin. “I’m scared for you.”

“It’s a pretty simple procedure. And I don’t have a huge chest, so it should be pretty successful.”

“Will you change with us? After? The guys do notice… That you never share showers or change with us like everyone else.”

“Does it bother them? What do they think?” Jin worried.

“They don’t know. We figured maybe you had scars or something ugly, something you’re ashamed of.”

“Well… They’re not wrong, but… Not exactly scars.”

“Still.” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this alone this whole time, Jin-hyung. I wish I could have helped.”

“You guys are always helping. You make me feel good about myself.”

Yoongi sat on the bench. “So the company… They knew you were trans right away?”

“Not right away. When they scouted me I was already transitioning and passing. I confessed right away but they liked my look enough to give me a shot. I knew it would be harder and there were stipulations. No coming out, no telling a soul, even my parents are required to have non-disclosure agreements.”

“What about after debut? Won’t kids recognize you from school?”

“Not many. I’ve been wildly fortunate enough to have parents that really supported me, even transitioning. They moved my schools once I changed my name and started my hormones. So almost anyone that knows me knows me as a boy. I never dated and no one ever saw my body. My dead name was fully different. I’m sure if people dug hard enough they could find it, but I’m not worried.”

“You’ve never dated? You’re a virgin?”

Jin shrugged. “What? Did you think my arrogance was real?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve… I mean I’m disgusting. And gay. Who would want to date me? No gay guy in his right mind wants a boy with a vagina.”

“That’s stupid,” Yoongi argued. “Anyone who cares more about that than you as a person isn’t worth your time. They should be dating you for you, not for a dick.”

Jin shrugged. “Either way. I got signed on as a boy, with the agreement to keep silent about what was under my clothes. The company has gone to great lengths to keep it a secret.”

“The surgery…”

“Out of country. I’m flying to Japan for it.”

“I wish I could come with you. You’ll be all alone…” “I’ll be okay.”

“Jin-hyung—” The door opened and the remaining five members poured in, laughing and being generally noisy. Jin smiled and shrugged at Yoongi.

“What the hell was that about?” Namjoon asked as soon as he spotted Jin.

“Nothing serious. I have to leave for a few weeks. Emergency.”

“When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“But what about practice?” Jungkook worried, peeking over Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still practice,” Jin teased, shoving Jungkook’s head playfully.

“Good, you need it,” Jimin teased.

Jin glared and threw his sweats at Jimin’s head across the room. “Hey! Be respectful. I feed you.”

Jimin cackled and threw them back at Jin, turning to change. Yoongi rose again, setting a hand on Jin’s lower back. Their gazes met and Jin smiled softly, nodding once. He turned back to Namjoon.

“It shouldn’t be too long. Two weeks, three at most. I’ll keep you updated, and I’m sure the company will too.”

“Okay, sounds good. It’s not too serious, is it?”

“No, not at all,” Jin said, smiling brightly. “Just something that needs to get done before we debut. No time after.”

“Sure. Of course. Let us know when you leave?”

“It’s early, like five. You’ll all still be sleeping, I’m sure.”

“Can I come with you to the airport?” Yoongi asked softly.

“I—” Jin hesitated. “I’d be okay with that, but you have to ask our manager.”

Yoongi nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“Let’s go get dinner, I’m starving,” Taehyung whined. Jimin leaned on him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re always starving.”

“True. I’m a growing boy!”

“You’re a fluffy boy,” Hoseok joked, poking him in the tummy. Taehyung batted at him, laughing. They gathered up their bags and headed out in a group, loud as the majority talked over one another on the way to their van. Jin hung back, watching his group with a soft smile. Even with his secret, staying quiet, this was his family. He wanted only the best for them. No matter what. Yoongi turned, meeting Jin’s gaze. He smiled broadly at Jin, falling back a little to walk with him.

“We’ve got your back, hyung.”

“Thank you,” Jin whispered. He knew there might be some hurt feelings, and some confusion if he were to come out to the group as a whole, and he was sure not everyone may be immediately okay with a trans member. But the sentiment was there, and that was what mattered to him.

37 notes · View notes

iereiaio · 3 years

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𝕸𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊

There is no shadow work prompt today, however I will be giving some updates, and then some insight on a reading I had received and then one I just did for myself. They have similar messages but I feel mine is more in depth. I will be separating the topics into sections so you can skip around to what you’d like!

Updates regarding the Account

I will be trying to post more starting today. I feel as though Haides hasn’t been very happy with me considering my inability to devote ANY time to him, aside from talking to him at night before bed, and sleeping with his altar bag. I feel he’s in the forefront of my mind on most days, but I’ve been lacking the motivation and energy to do anything about it. I am a Priestess. He chose me out of nearly 8 BILLION people in this world. He’s been with me since I was born into this life, as well as all of my previous lives. He has been with me for hundreds, if not thousands of years. I had gotten this confirmed by several readers, and several of my own readings, and I had always had a very strong pull towards him, as well as luck with a lot of things. He’s believed in me for so long, and I can feel his patience in me wearing thin, and it’s a very lonely feeling. He hasn’t pulled back from me, however I just feel like he doesn’t have as much faith in me as he once did. So I will be trying to do shadow work at the very least once a week, but I aim to do 3-6 days a week. So expect more posts with shadow work. I was healing when I was journaling and pulling cards every day. I have been very stagnant lately and I know it’s because I’ve been neglecting my journey of healing, but also my deities and other passions in my life. I know Haides understands, but I also know he wants me to do better and try harder. Even a little bit of effort, I’m sure he will appreciate

The reading I had received

I got a reading from a friend today, I pulled it regarding new deities potentially knocking on my spiritual door (I feel as though Lucifer and Lilith are wanting to work with me, but somebody I don’t know said that Lilith told her it was an imposter entity, so I am needing to do some research before confirming or denying that. This reading was supposed to do that, but instead it came for my throat. Anyway, on with the cards:

6 of swords

5 of swords

10 of swords

9 of swords

4 of pentacles

7 of wands

the Hermit

queen of swords

So into the interpretation, they said I have very little energy (as represented by the 6 of swords), and that Im trying to heal but it’s just really difficult. Any new deities coming into my circle will provide me more energy, but it will “hurt” me a little bit- (represented by the 10 of swords, I am personally believing it may be once I start putting more energy into Haides, I will be getting this newfound energy) And by hurting me, it will be learning lessons. As lessons are often hard to learn. I am represented again in the 9 of swords, being in pain consistently (mentally) but with the 4 of pentacles, Hades will help me step into my personal power, and break free from restrictions i feel financially- but also emotionally. Im being given the opportunity to go forth after the things in life that im passionate about, and i know what im passionate about but i fear both success and failure. The Hermit, which was a funny draw, because Haides uses that card to represent himself in my decks- but I feel alone a lot ofthe time (not a lie anyway lmao), and with the Queen, im being called to action to either step up or get out of the battle. Im being called to be more assertive and call to Haides for the strebgth Im currently lacking. “Embody him so to speak”. They suggested EVOKING Haides, and even INvoking him next. They also said my protections might be weak (hope I don’t regret saying that online)

Now onto my own reading

So, for mine, I did it pretty soon after theirs, since they gave me a bit of clarity on what to look for. As well as insight that Haides wasn’t too happy with me and my depressed shenanigans. While YES hes understanding, and more understanding and patient than many other deities would be, he is still growing impatient with me, considering how little effort im putting into ANYTHING. So with the insight, i decided to do my own pull based ont he reading I had gotten from my friend. The cards I pulled were:

(the first reading was very short and to the point)

Page of Swords

The Hermit (only to find Haides in the deck)

King of Cups

And in the second reading, which was much longer, I pulled:

Two of Wands

Eight of cups (R)

Four of coins (R)

Seven of cups (R)

Three of coins

The High Priestess (R)

The Magician (R)

The Fool

Page of Cups

The World

The Artist (unique major arcana card to this deck)

The way that I personally interpret the first reading, is that Haides misses my energy, and would like to help me gain it back, however I need to devote at least some of my energy to him and show him my loyalty to him in order to get that in return. I cannot expect help with healing without giving him anything in return. I need to do better if I want his help. He will be there for me, but he wants me to do better. He wants the best for me.

As for the second reading, I have some decisions i need to make, i assume about my current artistic path, i will have some career opportunities but i need to work now to get them. My depression and hopelessness is represented by the 8 of cups, ive been in a real bad rut these last couple weeks, moreso in the last few days as some bad, traumatic memories have started to resurface. Haides is reminding me with the 4 of coins to start being more responsible, not only with my money, but with my time. I’ve spent so many days moping in bed, sad, sleeping all day; he wants to help me but he wants me to prove to him that I am devoted to him and my healing journey. He wants me to try, even on hard days. He wants to give me clarity and strength to move forward, but again, wants me to prove my loyalty to this journey. If i put forth the effort, i will grow and blossom in the ways I need to. I will succeed with him by my side. However I need to be more open with myself, and not allow ignorance to take me off my path. I need to remember that the things that have happened to me, have already happened. And while it’s okay to process and be sad about them, and traumatised (as its as if im living these things for the first time), but I cannot let them ruin my entire day, or multiple days. I cannot let my life waste away because of something bad happening. I need to stop letting insecurities rule my life as well. I’ve noticed when I get insecure about something, I shut down and don’t even complete, or start the project. I need to understand that everything isn’t going to be perfect. Though despite the learning I need to do, I also need to cater to my inner child. I need to hold onto that innocents and free spirit. i need to focus on new beginnings and getting these new things rolling instead of just staring at them hopelessly, letting them intimidate me. I need to dive back into spirituality and again, tend to my inner child. If I can do that, I will be successful and happy; I can be brought to the right path, but I need to get back on the right path. Things are rocky, and it’s gonna be a little weird going backwards so I can get back on the right path, but sometimes it’s necessary. I also believe I will have a lot of success with art. I just need to put my mind to it and put energy into it. I wont get recognition and success by never drawing or posting. I wont succeed if I don’t put in the work.

#tarot reading #tarot #hades #haides #hades god #greek god hades #greek god #greek gods #hades priestess #priestess #haides priestess #priestess of hades #growth #healing #journaling

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

DEAD WALLS RISE - SAWYER

Ever since she was little, she had a knack for fixing things. It started small. Her mother’s favorite stirring spoon. One day it snapped in two while her mother cooked and she had looked so sad over the loss. So she melted some beeswax and used striped of jute cloth to try and bind it all back together.

It didn’t work.

But her mother had been so touched by her attempt that it had made Sawyer feel…amazing. Through her adolescence she chased that feeling. That look. Eyes of such pure gratefulness. It filled every space in her soul. From broken kitchen spoons, she graduated to mending clothing. And then there was her father’s accident.

He’d tripped on a branch and fell with a hatchet in his hand and it sliced open his arm. There had been so much blood and Sawyer was all alone at home. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She cleaned him up and used her sewing needle to stitch back the folds of skin. And though the local healer had to undo her work and administer his own, he had been so impressed with her foresight and fortitude that he offered her an apprenticeship.

She would help heal the sick and injured. She would fix people.

She was only nineteen when the war broke out. And suddenly there were so many people needing to be fixed. And so many that were beyond her touch or talents. It slowly ate away at her. Every person she lost or could not help. After the capitol city fell and their entire civilization was scattered to the winds,

she helped where she could. Treating those she came upon, but not staying with any group. They attracted attention. Hunter who picked them off bit by bit. Setting traps and snares or ambushes. For every person she helped, the pervasive thought remained.

What good am I if they’re going to die anyway?

For years, she kept to her one rule. Once her work was done, she would leave. No connections. No friends. No goodbyes. She was so dreadfully tired of goodbyes.

But then she broke her one rule.

There was a group of refugees trying to make it to the pass and through to the northern plate. One of then was a young woman who had gone into labor. The child was healthy and fat and wonderful, but the mother was weak and ill and could not keep any food down. She spent a week with the group, helping to nurse the mother back to health. Her fever slowly ebbed and color returned to her cheeks. Sawyer could have left. But…she stayed.

And that time had been the happiest that Sawyer had known since before the war. Because of Diane. The young mother’s sister. A vibrant ray of light with a laugh that made Sawyer’s heart race whenever she heard it. Diane was beautiful and feminine and everything Sawyer was not. Her trade and life had turned her harder and rougher than any woman she’d known. She wore trousers instead of skirts and chopped her hair short. More out of convenience than anything, but once she had done it, it felt weird for her to have her hair long or to slip into a skirt again. Trousers felt right and she loved the feeling of the wind on her neck.

And Diane did not make her feel as though she should be ashamed for how she dressed or looked. Rather, she expressed that she wished she could be daring enough to cut her long hair as Sawyer did.

“That would be a travesty,” she had told Diane.

“Why?”

“Because you’re so beautiful just as you are.”

She did not remember much between then and the moment Diane’s lips met hers…but she remembered feeling it again. That joy she constantly chased as she healed and helped people. She never expected to find it anywhere else.

And it both thrilled and terrified her.

………………………………………………..

The mistake had been such a simple one. They wanted to avoid the flooded gully so they changed their path to the smoother one through the copse of tree. They had thought they were far enough from the road that they would not be seen.

But the hunters hand keen eyes.

Diane and two others were taken. Sawyer and the rest of the group had managed to escape, but…Sawyer could not leave them behind. She could not leave Diane to face such a cruel death. Not alone.

The others begged her to stay.

“You’re a healer.”

“You’re too valuable!”

“You can’t go. You can’t save them.”

And yet she did leave. She was going to save them. She had to. The giants’ tracks were easy enough to follow. There had been no attempt as disguising or hiding their path. Why would they? There was no monster waiting in the shadows to catch and devour them. The trail led her to the outskirts of a Vhasshalan village. The inner square was bursting with activity. Stalls of goods and wares and all types of foods and produce. Giants yelled and bartered and laughed. The sight angered her so much. Women and children huddled in mud out in the wilds while their hunters celebrated the fruits and frivolities of life and love. Basking in the warmth of both heart and home.

How she wished she had the powers of a mage and could burn the whole sodding mess to the ground.

The tracks ended near the manky old shed outside the town proper and as she spent a little time observing it from afar, the hunters emerged from within. They were laughing and pushing at one another jovially. In high spirits.

“Should fetch a decent price,” one of the remarked. “Spring must’ve treated ‘em good out there. Lot fatter than the last few we’ve caught.”

“That pretty one’s gotta be worth a full silver. At least.”

“I say we double the price and sell her as a pet to some Lord. Be a shame to see such a pretty thing go into a soup pot.”

“I hear Lady Tafford’s been known to keep a few of ‘em.”

Sawyer felt her face flush with ire and the urge to stab their eyes out was very present in her mind. She waited until they were well off and away from the shed before she approached. It was a raggedy thing with the wooden plank siding having been eaten away by time and termites. All she had to do was find a weak spot and push her way through. The room was mostly barren save for a table at the center and the only light coming in were from the holes and cracks in the ceiling and walls. Sitting on the floor off to the side was a wooden cage. And inside…

“Diane!”

Wet blue eyes met hers from behind wooden bars and her heart ached.

“S-sawyer? What? Why are you here? Go! Before the come back!”

She went to the cage and reached in to grab Diane’s hands. “They’re gone. Probably to go get pissed. Come on, let’s get you all out of here.”

It took all four of them pulling on the wood to splinter them enough so they bowed, leaving just enough space for them to wiggle out. Sawyer led them through the hole she had made in the wall and together they all ran from the shed. They were only a few yards from the tree cover when a furious shout drew their eyes back. Their hunters had spotted their escaped quarries and all three of the giants were rushing towards them. Faces red and lips curled back into sputtering snarls.

“Go! Run!” Sawyer yelled, pushing hard between their shoulders to usher them forward. They pushed into the trees and ran. “Turn left down that hill and hide. I’m going to draw them away from you all.”

Diane’s frightened eyes met her own. “No! They’ll catch you! They’ll kill you!”

“They won’t catch me,” she assured her. “The trees are far too close together for them to run full on. We have the advantage. Now go!”

“I can’t!” Diane said, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t just go and you not come with me!”

“You have to,” she said. And in a moment that would stay with her for the rest of her life, Sawyer pulled Diane to her and pressed her mouth onto hers. Hard. Quick. And far too brief. She pulled away and pushed her on. As the others dragged Diane with them, the blued eyed girl stared.

“Sawyer!” She said. “I love you!”

Her breath wavered in her chest and as Diane disappeared behind the foliage, she said back, “I love you, Diane.”

She had only a second or two for the words to hang in the air before she heard the giants crash through the trees. She ran, making sure they spotted her before drawing them away from where Diane and the others had run.

Diane’s last words to her gave her the drive to run as fast as she ever had in her life. Trees and roots and bushed passed her at alarming speeds, but even as fast as she ran, the giants were still behind her. And the gap was closing. But then all at once, her foot snagged and the world rose up to smack her in the face. Her head hit something hard and everything went dark.

………………………………….

She awoke slowly and in great pain. The entire left side of her face pulsed and she felt nauseous.

“...can’t believe they escaped!”

“And that one’s practically worthless! With a head wound like that, he’ll be dead in a few hours!”

There was a furious growl and the cage rattled as it was struck. “Fuckin’ human trash! I should skin you for this!”

She was in a cage on her back, one eye swollen shut. Despite it all, however, Sawyer smiled. She did it. They got away. She got away. Diane was safe.

...and that was enough for her.

Drifting between awake and unconsciousness, Sawyer was only dimly aware of the passage of time. But she knew she had been in the cage for at least a day as she had awoken and saw starlight through a gap in the she roof. When she woke again and saw sunlight above her, she began to wonder if the giants were content to just wait for her to die. If she’d hit her head hard enough, she could and probably was concussed and the swelling in her eye had not gotten any better. She felt feverish, which she suspected would be the thing to do her in. An uncleaned open wound and a fever?

She was going to die. And the only question left to answer was whether the fever or the giants would be the one to snuff her out.

………………………………….

“It took a while to get them and my supplier doubled his fee,” said one of the giants. “So if you’re still wanting it, it’ll be five silver.”

“That’s an outrageous sum!” said another voice. One Sawyer did not recognize. “The agreement was two silver.”

“And had my supplier not doubled his price, I wouldn’t have had to double mine. Five silver. That’s my price. You want the powder? It’s five silver.”

“I wonder at your arithmetic. I wonder greatly.” There was the sound of unhappy muttering as the new giant considered. “Hm... throw in that pitiful creature there and I’ll give you five silver.”

“For five silver you get the powder. For six, you get the powder and the human.”

“What? Why you slippery thief, that human’s practically dead. They’re not worth anywhere near a whole silver piece!”

“Six silver. That is my price.”

There was silence for nearly a minute. “...The powder and the human for five silver and a bottle of Wormwood extract.”

“Wormwood?” asked her captor. “...red or blue root?”

“Red, of course.”

“Deal.”

She could hear the sound of coins being spilled into an open palm and her captor gave a satisfied grunt. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

There was a divisive snort from the one who had just purchased her. “Terribly sorry that I cannot return the sentiment.”

There did not seem to be any point in moving or trying to get a look at the new giant. She would see him well enough in time, she supposed. The sound of the cage being opened caught her attention, though and she was expecting a large meaty hand to reach in and grip her roughly. But instead she was carefully lifted from the cage floor by two large but thin fingered hands and with a surprising deftness. One slipping under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. Then just before she could look at the giant with her one good eye, she was bundled into a swathe of coarse homespun fabric that smelled vaguely like cloves. He’d swaddled her like an infant and she only felt the most vague sense of chagrin.

He carried her bodily from the shed and only few paces passed before setting her down again onto smooth worn wood. The fabric fell away from her face and she could see the wooden bed of a cart seat and beyond that, a rump of a frighteningly giant horse. Or rather a Svadilfari. It would have taken a team of twenty horses to pull a giant’s cart. For a moment she stared in fascination. She had heard of Svladilfari, but she had never seen one in person. A giant equine that could reach 40 feet high from hoof to ears and supposedly eat an entire field of barley in a day. And perhaps it was simply her head injury, but her immediate thought after seeing the enormous creature was…

…that beast must produce a hellish amount of manure.

The cart tilted as the giant took his seat just to the side of her. She could hear him grunting as he climbed the steps and then thud of him sitting down, the gentle whooshing as the leather harnesses passed through his hands and then the clack and snap as he ushered his beast forward. The wooden wheels of his cart crunched through the dirt and grass before finding the road and everything smoothed out. It was several minutes into the journey before the giant spoke again.

“Now, let’s see to you, little fellow,” said the giant in a low voice. The fabric was pulled away and the sun hit her in the eye, causing her to wince and turn away from the offending light. The action seemed to give the giant a better view of her swollen eye and her head wound. Something touched her shoulder.

“Not as bad as I had feared,” he murmured. “But it looks painful enough.”

“…funny,” she groaned. “It feels painful enough too.”

“Oh…Oh!” He exclaimed. “Oh, I am sorry, Madame. By your clothes and hair, I mistook you for a man. My apologies.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Sawyer replied and coughed. Her throat was so dry. “But you’ve got me curious. You gave him…Wormwood extract?”

“Yes. I did.”

“That’s…that’s a treatment for piles.”

Through the glare of the sun she caught the flash of his grin. “I am aware.”

She started to laugh, but stopped as a wave of nausea hit her and she rolled over onto her belly. “Augh. So...is it too much to hope this is a rescue? Or am I to be your supper?”

He made an odd strangled sort of scoffing sound and then the giant patted her reassuringly on the back. “Rescue. Definitely a rescue, my dear.”

“Oh, good,” she replied lightly as a surge of adrenaline struck her and the tips of her fingers tingled. So she wasn’t going to die? Well, that just messed up her schedule completely then. Her good eye prickled with sudden tears and she laughed humorlessly around the growing lump in her throat. “I always thought getting eaten would be such a stupid way to die...”

“Hm,” the giant hummed, nesting the crook of a finger against her neck and the side of her face. “And I suppose succumbing to a blistering fever and infection is preferable, hm?”

“At least there’s still a little bit of dignity persevered with a fever.”

“How does it matter how you die if you die regardless?”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows just long enough to glare up at him. “...are you really trying to make the argument that being eaten isn’t all that bad? Or are you just being obtuse?”

“Madame, you bruise me.”

“Sorry...I get mouthy when I’m scared,” she said as she flopped back down onto wooden seat and winced. “And in pain.”

“I understand,” he said gently and she felt his fingers lightly touch her back again. “And though it may be obtuse to say so, you have nothing to fear. It is against my creed to do harm. To any intelligent creature.”

“...thank you,” she said and after a few moments of silence added, “In hind sight, five silver is an awful lot to spend on dinner. You’d have to like...use a really good wine and a gallon of butter to make me worth the price.”

“Please, let us not continue with this vein of conversation. It’s too gruesome.”

“Okay. So then how about telling me the name of my valiant savior?”

“My name is Yaesha.”

“Nice to meet you Yaesha. I’m Sawyer.”

…………………………………

“Y’know…you could have mentioned you were the King’s physician,” she said with a mild accusatory tone. She’d been placed on a bed, a giant bed, in the infirmary. Yaesha had placed a decorative screen around the bed to give them a little more privacy, but she did not see the point. They were the only ones in the room. He’d given her some tonic that did wonders to rid her of the headache that has been ever present and she felt leagues better than she had in days. But it had also left her a little loopy. But as it had been years since she had partaken in any good spirits, it was not an unwelcomed sensation.

Yaesha knelt down beside the bed, dipping a cloth into warm water. “I rarely go to the market myself and I would prefer that my identity not get around. Especially there. That place is…unsavory. And the King would hardly approve.”

“…alright. Your secret’s safe with me. But if you find it to so distasteful, why go there?”

“If a person was seeking an ingredient that was difficult to acquire, Dornby market it the place to find it. Or at the very least, where you could pay someone to find it for you. And I certainly could not have asked Farris to get some for me. Gods above what he would have thought…”

“So what was it you were there to acquire? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Rheem seed powder.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It goes by man names. But it’s very hard to get a hold of in Vhasshal and is outright banned in Ibronia where it grows. But it makes for a glorious antiseptic.”

“So…why is it banned in Ibronia?”

“It is also an incredibly strong and addictive inebriant. Hence the secrecy.”

“Oh. Well, that explains a lot.”

He tried to clean away the blood and get a better look at her wound, but she pushed back when he applied the faintest amount of pressure. She hissed in pain and jerked away from his ministrations. “Mother of—!”

“I know it stings, but it needs to be sterilized. You may even need stiches.”

“Just let me do it. I can do it myself. I know how.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but are you a trained healer?” he asked in a decidedly haughty tone. “No. Now sit still and let me work.”

She pulled away from him again. “I am, though.”

He paused and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “...pardon?”

“A trainer healer,” she replied, returning his look, though the effect was ruined by only having one usable eyebrow. “Me. I am. That is...yeah.”

He pulled his head back as though seeing her for the first time. “Truly?”

“Yep... I finished my apprenticeship two months before the war started.”

He stared at her, seeming to reassess her for several moments before giving her a small smile and placing the bowl beside her. He handed her the corner of the fabric and stood up. “Very well then, Madame healer. I shall leave it to you.”

She leaned over the bowl and used its surface as a mirror to work around the worst areas of dried blood and saved the most tender and painful areas for last. It took her almost half an hour, but she was eventually able to see the wound proper and she cursed.

“Problem?” Yaesha asked from somewhere to her left.

“You’re right,” she said. “I need stitches.”

“Can you manage or will you need assistance?”

“…I’ll need your help, please.”

Yaesha had to all but take over stitching her up. Her fever had gone down, but left her shaky and weak. He surprised her with the amount of dexterity he possessed despite the tiny stitches he was having to make with thread that, in his hands, would snap or break with only the most minimal amount of force.

Sawyer was fairly very impressed.

“So tell me, Sawyer,” he said as he worked. “How did you manage to get yourself all banged up and on the black market?”

She thought for a moment, Diane’s face flashing in her mind and bringing with it a sharp longing that she pushed back below the surface with a violent thrust.

“I was trying to rescue someone.”

He hummed noncommittally. “And did you succeed?”

“Yeah. They got away. I led the hunters away from them, but tripped and a rock gave me a nice kiss on the way down.”

He hummed again. “And what is his name?”

“What?”

“The one you went to rescue. What is his name?” He paused to give her a meaningful look and she felt her cheeks warm.

“…her name is Diane.”

Yaesha blinked at her. “Oh,” he said, but there was a ghost of a smile there. “And will you go find her once you’re all sewn back up and healed?”

For a moment she did not say anything. And then finally, she said in a small voice, “…no.”

“No?”

“With any luck she and the others are that much closer to the pass. Trying to run after them…it’s foolish. And I think I’m done with being foolish for a good while. Love makes you do stupid things. And I don’t want my stupidity to put her in danger. Besides…I’m not what she needs.”

“And what does she need?”

“…someone who isn’t me.”

……………………………………………………

In the months that had followed Yaesha’s rescue of her, Sawyer had taken the liberty of his medical library to brush up on a few topics in addition to learning whole new swathes of knowledge. Yaesha possessed an extensive collection of medical and anatomical tomes that he had been gracious enough to allow her to peruse. Her wounds had long since healed and only the day before, he had proposed to her that she could stay in Vhasshal. As his assistant.

“Your assistant?” she said, taken aback.

“Yes,” Yaesha replied, his face beaming with excitement. “You yourself have said multiple times you had no real plans once you were sufficiently healed and it just so happens I’ve been pursuing possible candidates for an assistant. We have three other humans in the castle and I can’t help but think it a boon in our favor to have a human healer. And your extensive knowledge of herbal balms would be a great asset to us.”

Her first inclination was immense gratitude, but then she paused to reign in the feeling. “…would this be a work for room and board arrangement or would I actually be paid a wage?”

“Of course you’d be paid a wage!” Yaesha replied. His tone seeming to imply it was never a question whether she would receive a wage. “Thirty pence a month in addition to room and board.”

Her eyes grew wide. Thirty pence a month was very handsome. Swallowing the abrupt welling of emotion, she nodded. “I would be very happy to accept the position.”

“Wonderful!” Yaesha replied, looking pleased as punch.

“Thank you,” she added. “Really...thank you.”

He placed his hand against her back and peered at her over the tops of his spectacles. “It’s my pleasure.”

……………………………………….

“I…I like your hair.” Sawyer looked up from the absurdly large book she had been trying to read to the maid standing just at the end of the table, a respectable distance away. Master Donal, the Steward, had assigned her to the infirmary and she had only been working there a week and hadn’t spoken a word to Sawyer. She had simply assumed that perhaps the maid took offense to a human taking up the position and had not bothered to give the matter any more thought. So long as the maid did her work and did not cause any problems, Sawyer was content with that.

So the abrupt comment regarding her hair was mildly shocking.

“Sorry?” she asked the maid, not entirely sure if she’d heard correctly.

“I just wanted to tell you…I like your hair,” she said, her words seeming to stumble oddly and her cheeks were flushed as though with embarrassment or fever. “I think it suits you.”

“…suits me?” Sawyer asked, genuinely confused and she looked down at herself.

“Oh! Not to say that your manly or anything. Even with you wearing trousers and tunics,” she corrected hurriedly, her red face becoming redder. “You’re very pretty and I’m sure you’d look just as beautiful in a skirt, I only mean...that is...oh, bother. I’m making a proper muddle of this...”

Looking at the maid, Sawyer was struck with a sudden sense of familiarity about the way she fumbled her words and blushed peculiarly. And a knowing smile spread across her face.

“What’s your name?” Sawyer asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh!” said the maid with a smile. “Not at all! I’m Clara.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Clara, but tell me. Why did you never say hello before?”

“Well...I’m not use to talking to humans. In fact, your the first human I’ve ever spoke to!”

Sawyer laughed. “Really?”

“Oh yes!”

“Oh.”

“I’ve always wanted to though. My great aunt had a human friend for many years and she use to tell me stories about them. They passed before I was born so I never got to meet them.”

“Oh,” Sawyer replied. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s actually why Yaesha asked for Master Donal to give me this position.”

“Yaesha?”

“Yep!” Clara replied cheerily. “He said I would be uniquely suited and that he thought you and I would get along very well. But I was so shy I couldn’t say anything! And then I felt like I may have offended you or...”

Sawyer laughed. “No, you didn’t. You’ve just been so quite I thought maybe you didn’t like humans.”

“I love humans!” Clara declared. “I’ve been dying to talk to you...I just...couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Well, how about we start with just...getting to know each other? We can ask for some tea to be brought up.”

“It’s almost luncheon,” Clara said. “I can bring us up some food and we can just chat.”

Sawyer smiled. “That sounds lovely, actually.”

With an excited bounce, Clara went to fetch their food as Sawyer closed the medical tome, and she glanced towards Yaehsa’s closed office door. She smirked and shook her head.

Yaesha, you nosy old goat...

#DEAD WALLS RISE #Sawyer #g/t #G/t story #g/t writing #Giant/tiny #g/t fantasy story #lgbtq #Yaesha #Clara #Yaesha is Sawyer's wingman

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