#still silent as a winter night on here but ill come back soon! been adjusting to loving life again & getting stuff done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

therainbowwillow · 3 years

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https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641354616733401088/therainbowwillow

Epilogue!

Here it is, the last part of this fic. And here is a sappy note from the author: Thank you all so, so much for reading my first-ever fanfic I’ve posted here! As I said in the very first parts, the hardest part of writing (for me) is posting what I write! To publish your art (written or drawn or sung, etc) is to show a part of yourself to the world and it is intimidating. The support you readers have given me has encouraged me to finish (me? finishing something?) this fic and has inspired me to keep posting my writing on here! Thanks a million for joining me on this trainwreck of a fanfiction.

Premise/last time (my last synopsis? AH!): Orpheus’s song succeeds. Hermes’s prophecy is fulfilled when Orpheus discovers his new immortality, at the hand of Hades. Persephone is allowed to choose where she spends her time, in Hadestown or up above. Eurydice and Orpheus look forward to their future, a lot longer than they had expected. Achilles and Patroclus are given a second chance at life and guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Hyacinthus stays with Apollo. Hermes is unemployed and tired but at least his son is alive.

It hadn’t taken Orpheus and Eurydice more than a minute to decide they wanted to go home. The Olympians had murmured amongst themselves. Gods, they had said, who do not have any desire to remain on Olympus? Sure, it wasn’t unheard of to live away from the city. But to visit only for hours? That wasn’t common.

Hermes had understood in an instant. They had come to plead for their lives and they’d left with much more than they’d bargained for. They longed for normalcy. They’d said their good-byes to Apollo and Hyacinthus, shining with his newfound immortality. The journey home had felt short, Hermes had been half-conscious for most of it. Persephone and Hestia helped him down the ramp, leaving Olympus behind him.

The train ride had been silent. Orpheus and Eurydice had sat side by side, hand in hand, never looking away from his bedside.

The flowers in the meadow turned their heads to Orpheus, God of Song, as he passed, though no notes touched his lips. Persephone helped Hermes inside and they’d slept.

When he’d finally woken, Hermes found Orpheus and Eurydice outside his window, laying together in the meadow. They sat beneath a tree and Orpheus strummed his lyre, humming the notes of a new song, flowers blooming around him, warm raindrops against his cheeks. Hermes watched them from his bed, to weary to stand.

The sun, perhaps curious at the sound of Orpheus’s music burned off the clouds and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Eurydice was the first to notice. It was a novel sight after years without a spring. She pointed it out to Orpheus, who watched it, wide-eyed, and then switched to singing about the colors above him.

...

Today, almost exactly a year after their original return, Orpheus and Eurydice would be married, in the light of spring. Orpheus stands beside his wife, sipping a glass of nectar. Eurydice frantically adjusts her veil. Orpheus sets down his drink and takes her hands in his. “Hey. You look great, love. What’s wrong?” he asks her.

“It’s just... we never could’ve done this before...” she sighs. “We could never have paid for all this. And now...”

“We won’t lose it this time,” he promises.

“I know. It’s hard to forget that we did once.”

He nods in understanding. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, lover. Sure, winter will be cold, summer will be hot, but it’s spring now!” He places his hands on her waist and sways back and forth. Eurydice smiles. She grabs his hands and spins him under her arms.

“It’s spring,” she agrees.

The guest list looks exactly as they’d agreed it would on the first train ride home. Hermes received the first invitation, as he still lived with the soon-to-be newlyweds. Persephone, residing nearby with her mother and son, received the second. Hyacinthus and Apollo were in attendance, and Achilles and Patroclus. Hera had blessed the wedding and Aphrodite had agreed wholeheartedly. In some stroke of madness or courage, Orpheus had sent a letter to Hades, inviting him to stop by. He hadn’t received a reply.

Written inside the cards was indeed Eurydice’s poem, to which she had objected after the letters had been sent. Still, she’d slept with a copy of the invitation under her pillow for months.

The set-up had been easy enough. A few notes of coaxing and, as promised, the trees had laid their wedding tables. Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, had given them a wedding arch of pure light. Persephone and Demeter had provided a feast and Hermes had delivered most of their invitations.

Apollo walks Orpheus down the isle. He trembles with anxiety. Hermes hands Eurydice off to him and he clutches her hand, beneath their arch of light. “I’m gonna forget what I’m supposed to say,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Orpheus, you aren’t gonna forget.” He nods, hoping she’s right.

And she is, of course. “I can’t promise you fair sky above,” he vows, “Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. Walk beside me.”

“Any way the wind blows,” she swears. “I will.”

Their kiss is long and filled with love. Eurydice’s fingertips brush against the thin scar across her lover’s palm. The tiny gash that had decided their forever.

The rest of the night is marked by music. Apollo is supposed to be the one performing, but Orpheus can’t help himself. Eurydice joins in, singing beside him, and soon the crowd is cheering for the newlyweds’ song. If Apollo is jealous, he doesn’t show it.

At Orpheus’s allowance, he leaves his position on stage and spins out a beautiful dance with Hyacinthus. Apollo notices his lover has grown his hair out. He has it tied back in a wreath of purple hyacinths, revealing the gash over his eye, the mark of his death he’d always kept so desperately hidden. Apollo brushes his finger over the scar. Hyacinthus looks away. “Hey, I like it,” Apollo says.

“I wasn’t sure about it. I... I used to wear my hair like this. You know... before? I thought maybe-”

“I love it.” Apollo silences him with a kiss.

The wedding celebrations carry on long into the night. Hermes looks on as Eurydice and Orpheus share their final dance of the day. Somehow, by some miracle, their tale had turned out this time.

“Hermes,” Orpheus takes a seat beside him, as Eurydice prepares a snack inside. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Hermes pulls his son into his arms. “I wish I could’ve done more,” he says. He opens Orpheus’s palm, examining his scar. “I wish it every day.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “You couldn’t have done more. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. You saved my life. Endured Hades’s wrath in my place.”

“And you saved me in turn. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I wish... you hadn’t gone through so much for me,” Orpheus whispers

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Orpheus,” he says, honestly. They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you still feel it?” Orpheus asks, suddenly.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What?”

“His wrath.”

“Do you?” Hermes inquires.

“I never felt it the way you did. It would always... end. A few seconds of agony and it would all be over,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

He hesitates a moment. “I do,” Orpheus admits. “Aches and pains, bad dreams, however it manifests, I can always tell.”

Hermes nods his sympathy. “I understand.”

“You were worse. You... you were asleep for days, weakened for weeks. And when you woke... you looked older, so tired. I was afraid for you,” Orpheus tells him.

“Finding you in that cell, Orpheus... that’s how I felt. I wish I could take all of that pain away from you,” Hermes says.

“I’ll manage,” Orpheus promises. “However long it takes.”

“I know you will.”

Eurydice returns with a plate of fruit and glasses of nectar. She hands one to her husband and the other to her father-in-law. “Happy zero-th anniversary, Orpheus!”

He blushes a deep gold. “We’re married!” He remembers. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet!”

Eurydice looks up at the full moon overhead. The scent of cherry blossom is on the air. She sits beside Orpheus and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here,” she tells him, softly.

“I am too.”

————————————————————-

Achilles and Patroclus established their residence in the countryside. In thanks for their protection of her daughter, Demeter provided bountiful harvests, year after year. They sat beneath their fig orchard and watched the stars, rejecting offers of glory in trade for the peace and quiet they longed for.

Decades passed and like all good things, their quiet lives came to an end. Achilles was the first to return to Hadestown. He fell ill in late winter. Patroclus never once left his side, providing food and drink and finally strong medicine until his lover breathed his final breath.

Patroclus watched the pyre go up in flames. He collected the ashes in a golden urn, half filled. His nights were cold and lonely and the harvest felt tedious. He watched the stars alone each night, just as he had promised he would. Finally, his time came.

...

He wakes, feeling unrefreshed. He pulls the cover back over himself and closes his eyes again. “Patroclus,” voice from behind him calls. A dream, he knows. He’d had plenty before. He shuts his eyes tighter.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says again. “Mind looking at me? It’s been a while. I missed you.”

Patroclus rolls over. His lover stands before him, young and healthy in a small bedroom. “Achilles?” he mutters. “This isn’t real.”

He prepares to turn away. Achilles takes his hand. His eyes widen at the touch. “No, Patroclus. You’re here!”

“Where ‘here’? Achilles, what is this?” he asks.

“Welcome to Elysium!” Achilles exclaims, taking a seat beside him. “Hades kept his promise.”

Patroclus blinks. “I’m... dead?”

Achilles nods. “Yes. Now we get to stay here. For real this time. I made Hades swear it, on the River Styx.” He brushes the hair out of Patroclus’s eyes. “If you’d like, I can show you around, but I’d rather you rest first. Dying is tiring work.”

Patroclus sits upright. “Achilles... I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I was afraid when Persephone brought you in that something was wrong. She told me that it was common, for shades who died in their sleep to stay asleep for days, even weeks,” he explains. “It wasn’t particularly comforting. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“I didn’t have coins to cross the Styx!” Patroclus realizes.

“I paid your fare.”

“What? How? You weren’t on the banks with me.”

Achilles shrugs. “Persephone told me she’d seen you so I worked on the factory assembly lines for a few days until I could afford to bring you over. I bet she would’ve done it anyway if I hadn’t scrounged together the change.”

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully.

“It wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t worked for years. Kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“Years?” Patroclus asks, alarmed.

“No one in Elysium works all that often. In the rest of Hadestown, most shades work part-time, with two weeks’ vacation to Elysium annually, plus weekends,” Achilles says. “And... oh, I shouldn’t tell you until you’re ready to see for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Patroclus insists. “Please tell me.”

“The sky. It’s not the overworld, but it has its own beauty. It’s quite impressive, and it isn’t even finished. I guess if you’d like we could-”

“Yes!” Patroclus exclaims. “I watched the stars. Every night. It wasn’t the same without you, my love.”

Achilles helps him to his feet and guides him through the house. Through the door of their cozy bedroom, down a short hallway, they step down a flight of stairs and out the front door. It opens to a landscape of rolling hills under otherworldly green lights. The stars are swirls in the sky, illuminated in strange colors. “Stars?” he whispers in awe.

“Hades stopped trying to recreate the overworld. He made it... something else. It worked, clearly. Come, sit.” He shows Patroclus to a well-used patch of grass beneath a fruit tree and lowers his lover to the ground.

Patroclus twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. “This is real,” he observes.

“Orpheus’s song does reach down here. And Persephone keeps everything growing, especially this time of year, springtime in the underground. When she’s with Hades, it’s like summer. Underworld summer. Patroclus, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it really is-”

“It’s incredible.” Patroclus’s lips touch Achilles’s and neither man pulls away, not for an eternity.

----(Decades prior to the deaths of Achilles and Patroclus)----

It had taken Persephone over two years to make her decision. She’d felt bad to keep her husband waiting all this time, but living up on top was bliss after all those long winters. It was summer of the third year when she finally returned.

...

Hermes arrives at her new residence, this one closer to Hadestown, looking awful. For a moment she fears the worst. That her husband had torn up the world all over again. But what he tells her is more frightening.

“Persephone, this summer’s been too long,” he announces. “Orpheus is powerful, but not this good. He’s been singing day and night to keep the weather in check. Singing for months There’s a spring and a fall and a winter, but it won’t last long. Next year, I’m afraid the crops will burn or-”

Horror fills her. “Is he alright?” She asks. “I knew it was getting hotter, but I never thought...”

Hermes sighs. “I’ve seen worse. But it’s wearing on him. He’s too tired to get out of bed these days. Eurydice’s there to help, of course, but he can’t do this forever, Seph. Not even a god can remain eternally awake.”

“I’ll go,” she agrees.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. Your mother can control the seasons. With her help-”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve made my choice. Tell your poor boy I’ll come by one last time. Let him stop singing.”

Hermes accepts this. They walk up the railroad track in silence.

He gently opens the door of his and Orpheus’s residence. He hears Eurydice, giving words of encouragement.

“It’s been months,” Orpheus says, his voice raspy with strain. “I dunno how long I can stay up. Even gods sleep.”

“I know, lover. But you’ve done so well. Don’t give up now.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “Just... a few more weeks, right? No,” he corrects himself, “Months. It’ll be fall soon. Then winter, then spring.”

“Spring is break time.”

“I know. It’s only... it’s two seasons away.”

Hermes hears her miserable sigh. “You’ve been brave, Orpheus, to keep fighting.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

He gives a little yelp of pain.

“Sorry. I should’ve changed these hours ago.”

Hermes opens the door. Orpheus looks up from his bloodied fingers. He smiles. “Hey Hermes! I’m sorry, I have nothing for us to eat. The song stopped producing a few days ago and I’m struggling with the lyre now that my fingers... well... It’ll be harvest soon. It won’t be ambrosia, but it’ll have to do.”

“No.” Persephone sits beside him. “It won’t have to do. We can fix this. I’m going back to Hadestown. I won’t be long. Spring always returns.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Orpheus exclaims, “My song will be enough until it’s spring again. Don’t go back. Please.”

“I miss him, Orpheus. I do. I’m going... home.” It feels strange to call Hadestown ‘home’. It was most often known to Persephone as ‘hell on earth.’

“Only if this is what you want, Persephone,” he says.

“I do. Please get some rest. Starting now.”

He smiles wearily as he leans back against his pillows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you when you bring back the springtime next year,” she promises.

He gives a little nod and he’s asleep, almost the second his head hits the pillow.

Hermes helps Persephone onto the train. Charon drives now, rather than himself. “Take care of Orpheus for me, will you? And give this to Dionysus.” She hands him a envelope. “He can come visit whenever he likes.”

“I will. If you need anything, just send a message.”

“See ya next spring!” She waves as the train pulls out of the station.

...

She remembers Orpheus, almost lifeless, collapsed in a booth just like the one she sits in now. Only three years. It feels like a century. How much he’s been through, she thinks. How much he’s changed. He isn’t the young man who’d collapsed at her feet in Hades’s throne room all those years ago. She has no doubt in her mind that he would’ve sung ‘til spring if she hadn’t gone.

The routine of the train ride is something of a comfort. She watches the scenery fly by outside her window. Green fields, nearly ripe for harvest. All thanks to Orpheus.

The train grinds to a halt. She steps into Hadestown, beyond the wall for the first time in so long. Bluish lights illuminate the stone walls of the city from above. The shadows cast by the buildings aren’t so harsh as they had once been. She raises an eyebrow.

She follows the streets down into the heart of Hadestown, hell on Earth. A young couple passes her, hand in hand.

“Hey, miss?” A woman calls. She turns. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?” the girl asks.

“I- no. Not really.” Persephone looks up at the city skyline. Her husband’a tower is no where in sight. “Where’s the tower?”

“The tower?” The woman looks confused for a second. “Oh yeah! I’ve heard the stories! They took it down during the revolution. You want a glass of wine, miss? If not, the bar’s always open if-”

“Hush,” Persephone cuts her off. “If we’re discovered, there won’t be anywhere left.”

The woman’s brow furrows. “Discovered by who? Mister Hades frequents our establishment.”

“We can’t be talking about the same man,” she says, astounded.

“You sure you don’t want a drink? I’m new here, so maybe someone will know more than me.”

Persephone nods, numbly. The woman leads her down the same street she’d walked a hundred times. Instead of a thin, secluded allyway, the entrance to her old bar is well-lit and wide open. It’s exterior is painted with a mural of carnations. She steps inside and is recognized almost instantly.

“Lady Persephone!” The bartender calls. “We’ve missed you down here!”

“Ampelos,” she recognizes the young man, a lover of her son, Dionysus, and the best bartender around. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has! We didn’t think you’d come back!”

“Yet here I am. Where’s the tower, my friend? Or the throne hall, I suppose.” She inquires. “I should find my husband.”

“I’m sure Hades will stop by soon enough. Dionysus’s spring wine.” He hands her a glass. “Hades kept the recipe.”

“There’s no vineyards down below,” she corrects him. “How much are you smuggling?”

“None.” He shrugs. “Orpheus’s song changed a lot.”

“Did my husband put you up to this?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s been different since the revolution. We’re still rebuilding, so there’s plenty to do, but having our memories back is nice. So are the shorter shifts. Five day weeks, nine-to-four. The weekends, we do as we like and our two weeks’ annual vacation time can be spent whenever we please. Pay isn’t half bad, though we’re campaigning for more currently, hence the flower. It’s the symbol of our revolution.”

She blinks in disbelief. “Funny.”

“No, I’m not joking,” he protests. “Things have changed.”

Persephone shakes her head. “Not Hades. Hades is unmovable. He gave us a chance because that song made him soft. Nothing more.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t come this far alone, true. It took a lot of willpower and good minds to convince him to let go of his iron grip on Hadestown, but we did it,” he explains.

The bell chimes at the door. Persephone freezes in fear at the sight of her husband. She’d dreamt it a hundred times, that he’d take away her last safe haven. “Hades,” she pleads.

He stares at her. “Persephone?” He waits for someone to laugh, tell him it had all been a joke. No one does. He moves closer. He doesn’t dare to touch her. He sees her eyes well with tears. “A glass of wine, Ampelos,” he commands.

Her lips part. “You know him?”

Ampelos shrugs. “Like I said. He’s a regular.”

“Hades...”

He cracks a smile. “I suppose I do drink more than I once did. I hoped you wouldn’t judge, Seph- sorry, Persephone,” he corrects himself.

She takes his hands. “Hades... you let us go. You let them go. It’s true?”

He nods. “I promised you change.”

“I didn’t think...”

“I don’t blame you. Persephone... why did you return?”

“The weather became hotter and hotter the longer I stayed. I couldn’t let the world die for me,” she says. “And Hades? I... I missed you.

“You made your choice?” His voice hasn’t lost its old commanding tone.

She closes her eyes and exhales. “I have. I made a promise too. I told them up on the surface I’d be back by spring.”

“I told you I wouldn’t keep you here,” he says, almost irritated. “But I understand your doubts.” Hades sips his wine.

“I’ll stay,” she promises.

“For me or for them?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits.

He nods. “Will you walk with me?”

Persephone takes his hand and leaves the bar behind her. The streets are cleaner, the air is easier on her lungs. The city is lit by beams of blue light, dazzling the buildings in colorful rays. Carnations are painted on some of the walls, leftover from the riots. “I stopped trying to make it look like it does up above,” Hades informs her.

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” He stops to ask her.

“Yes.”

“The shades seem to prefer it too,” he adds.

“They’re happy, Hades,” she tells him.

“I feared they only kept up the ruse around me to save their skins.”

“No. It’s genuine. They smile. They laugh. I never thought I’d see the day,” she remarks.

They continue walking, past the crumbled remains of factories and newly opened restaurants. “Where are we going, Hades?” Persephone finally asks.

He shrugs. “Where do you want to go?”

She’s surprised at her own request. “Home,” she says.

“It’s gone,” he responds, bluntly. “The tower fell before I returned.”

“Then take me to wherever you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I have no home. I held off. You were never happy in the tower. I wanted you to choose where we should reside.”

“I don’t understand,” Persephone says. “You don’t have a home on the surface. You live here year round. Why should my six months matter more than your twelve?”

“You’re my wife.”

“And I’m telling you to pick a place. So do it.”

He guides her down the street in silence, away from the center of town. She recognizes the route he’s taking, remembers the last time she’d come this way. It had been no leisurely stroll then. She instinctively reaches for her pocket, retracting her hand when she remembers she’d left her flask on the surface.

The tightly packed streets open to an empty field, a single dilapidated building at the far edge. Persephone carefully steps over the glass ruins of her now-fallen greenhouses. She rests her hand upon the door of the last building that stands. She exhales and pushes it open.

The scent of flowers strikes her. Her jaw drops. The garden blooms before her, as if she’s on the surface. As if the vines cannot tell that the sun is a million miles out of reach.

“Hades...” she whispers, rapt.

“It will improve in your care,” he says.

“You did this?”

“I did my best,” he tells her, modestly. “Orpheus’s song does reach us.” He pinches a dead leaf between his fingers. “But it’s been quiet lately.”

She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the garden and pats the spot beside her. Hades joins her. “Last time I was here, I used these vines to strangle the man you sent to attack me,” she reminds him. “After he shot Orpheus, that is. I was too late. As always,” she scoffs. Hades says nothing. “No, you look at me, husband.” He turns towards her. “You’re trying. But it ain’t easy to forgive.”

He nods in quiet understanding. “What happened to him once I left?”

She shrugs. “Hermes could tell you more than I could. I spent time with the three of them when things got rough, just after we got home from Olympus. It took Orpheus a long time to get back on his feet, even with the help of your ambrosia.”

She sighs, remembering those long, long weeks. “He’d sleep all day and wake up screaming. Some nights, he wouldn’t speak to us; he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong. He’d just cry and cry until he lost his voice or I gave him something to knock him out. It was unbearable. But we bore it, Eurydice and I, while Hermes slept. Eventually he improved, but even now, some days are harder than others.”

“Whatever you did to him, it never went away,” she accuses him. “The same for Hermes. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, not anymore. But sometimes... sometimes I know it wears on them.”

Hades stares at the vines at his feet. “I would take it all back if I could,” he says, quietly.

“I know you would. I wish I could relieve their burdens, more than you know.”

“You have burdens of your own,” he reminds her. “The weight of their strife is mine to carry.”

She wonders if he wants her to refute him. “Yes, it is,” she simply agrees. “No amount of apologies, no amount of reform will ever take away that pain.” She stands and turns her back on him.

He reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “I know. I’m not asking you to forgive. I know you cannot forget. But we have another chance, Persephone.”

“I don’t know what I want, Hades.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #hadestown au #like i said its hardly an au lol #oh well #at least my warm up is done #its eighteen parts long #end me #therainbowwrites

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youremeimyou · 5 years

Text

Promise Me(pt.1)

Part 1 - Part 2

pairing: Park Jimin x reader (ft. Kim Taehyung) genre: Fluff, angst and just drama.. word count: 5k warnings: alcohol consumption

Description: Y/N is Jimin’s longest and best friend. Certain feelings are caught and meanwhile, Jimin accidentally sets Y/N up with his other best friend. But not before getting her to make him a promise.

A/N: Lately, The image of Jimin being all tipsy in his ‘Saint Laurent’ t-shirt in that bring the soul episode has been either leaving me sleepless or appearing in my dreams. Gosh, whatta man.. So that infired me to write this story:) I hope you enjoy! I’d be really glad to have your feedback. Here, bless your eyes with the image I’m talking about:

The boy’s dorm building was only across the road from the girl’s. And that wasn’t exactly a long walk for Y/N on a normal day. But this freezing winter night couldn’t be considered that normal. Plus, Y/N had to fight against the strong wind that nearly knocked her out of her feet more than once. All of the snow piled up on the ground wasn’t helping either. Again, on a normal day she would’ve loved walking on snow. But at that moment, she just wished to somehow activate her inner mutant so that she could teleport there or something.

If only she wasn’t too lazy to tidy up her room a little bit, it could be Jimin who was trying to make his way to her place right now. Maybe a bit of a selfish thought. But on the bright side, he would have the wind on his back, maybe even help him move faster as it blew from behind him.

It was then that Y/N felt a presence, swiftly moving towards her. Or rather, running up at her. She couldn’t see much through the huge scarf covering most of her face. So, assuming the presence would be a stranger, she engaged attack mode. As she was flopping her arms and legs without even managing to land them anywhere on the guy, the guy easily held her arms in place, not applying much force.

“Relax Y/N, it’s me.”

Ah.. the sweet, soothing voice of Park Jimin.. A little shakey probably from all the cold, a bit small and hard to hear through the blizzard. Nonetheless, it still made Y/N’s worries go away.

“Oh, sorry Chim. I couldn’t see it was you. Did I get you?”

Jimin laughed a high pitched laugh.

“Well, you hit me pretty hard but I guess I’ll live.” he teased her. Meanwhile, Y/N adjusted her scarf to be able to see him properly. His cheeks were all red and his lips almost went purple. Thankfully he had a big beanie with ear flaps to protect his sensetive little ears, Y/N thought. Although an ill and whiney Jimin was cute, exams week was closing up on them. Y/N made plans in her mind to prepare some of her mom’s magical power up soup for both of them, just in case.

“C’mon let’s go inside.”

With Jimin’s arms wrapped up around her, the wind didn’t stand a chance. They quickly went through the door and ran up the stairs to his room. As soon as they were inside, the warmness of the room welcomed them. Y/N loved and despised this room at the same time. Because it smelled way nicer, was way bigger and way warmer in the winter than her own. Well.. Jimin always was the lucky one of the duo. And Y/N had been taking advantage of that for over a decade.

“So, what were you doing outside in this blizzard?”

“I saw last minute that I had lots of booze and very few snacks. And I know better than to not give a certain snack monster what she craves. So I went out to quickly take care of that.” He sent a wink her way. Little action, but a power move.

Y/N saw him taking off his backpack and appreciated the apparent fullness of it. She couldn’t hold herself back from reaching it to grab a starter. Somewhere along the movements their hands came into contact with one another.

“Woah Y/N, you’re freezing! Come here.”

Jimin led the both of them to the couch where a blanket was already present. They wrapped it around themselves and Jimin took Y/N’s hands in his, rubbing them gently. Blowing his warm breath on them every now and then. Looking at her with the softest eyes. It was moments like this that reminded Y/N how she was a doomed, doomed girl. Jimin was maybe the biggest tease she knew. Used on others, it was flirtation. On her, it was the affection he had for his longest, most valued friend. Y/N knew the difference between the two situations. But that just didn’t help the way she felt.

“Booze’ll help us get warmer faster. Let’s get this party started already.” Y/N made an escape towards his mini fridge to get the drinks. “Did you pick a movie yet?”

“No.. I thought we could just chat tonight. We don’t really get the chance to have our customary deep conversations that much anymore. You know, just the two of us.”

“Oh? I thought it made you upset when the gang leaves you alone like this.”

It was true that Jimin didn’t like being alone the least bit. After their meet-ups with their friends when everybody would leave at some point, Jimin would whine and beg Y/N to stay more. “C’mon, a bit more.. let’s lay down.” he’d say. “Wait till I fall sleep?” And of course she would. Everytime.

“But I’m not alone, you’re here. Besides, Christmas Eve kinda became our thing by now, didn’t it?”

For the last two Christmases, both of their families were always either working or on vacation somewhere. There were no gatherings to celebrate the event. So, they didn’t go home for the holidays and spent it in the dorms. And since all of their close friends went back home, Y/N and Jimin were left on their own. They decided to have their own little celebrations where only themselves were invited. This year was also the same. It was starting to become tradition at this point.

That was actually how it all started for Y/N. The first Christmas Eve they spent alone, something happened. A wire in Y/N’s mind changed. And she was trying to deal with that ever since. Hoping tonight wouldn’t make everything worse.

Y/N was setting up the coffee table with the drinks and snacks. Jimin had already started with some champagne. He downed the first glass in one go. Then poured another one for himself. After that he opened up a bottle of soju for Y/N, as he knew she liked starting off with that. They could both hold their liquor but Jimin was drinking even faster than usual. And after a while that made him get very tipsy very soon. He was going all out tonight.

“Hey, I meant to tell you. I signed us up for the Spring Musical Project. Since we’ll be self producing most of the parts, I thought you’d want to know early on. Maybe you wanna get started on the scores.”

“Wow there, Chimmy! I thought we had to audition for that. And also why am I the one working on the scores may I ask?”

Jimin giggled when he noticed her glaring at him with squinted eyes.

“Hmph.. Not after I convinced Mrs. Bora we don’t. And I’ll try to help you out in anyway I can but music making’s your specialty, sweety. We’ve been partnering in crime for like 15 years. I thought you knew by now that I’m the charm and you’re the brains.”

Jimin reached forward to tweak her cheek. Because of Y/N’s sensetive skin, the spot immediately turned red.

“Did that hurt?”

“Nope, not a bit.”

Jimin smirked.

“Good. Let’s even out the colors, then.”

He slided down from the couch to the floor, next to where Y/N was sitting. He was now pinching both her cheeks, making cute incoherent sounds. Annoying the hell out of Y/N.

“Cut it out Chim, or else.”

“Or else what?” he teased her.

She countered the attack by tickling him. His tummy and waist were his week spots and she knew that. It turned into a playful scuff and after some time Y/N won by pinning Jimin lightly on the ground. With the help of her body on top of his, of course.

“Okay, okay hahah.. you win ah- just stop tickl-“ he hiccuped suddenly from all the laughing. “..tickling me.” That was when she spared him from the torture. And that hiccup had to be the cutest thing she ever heard. Plus, his eyes had dissappeared from laughing too hard and he looked so… Then she realized how she was on top of him, completely pressed against his body and it was all too much. She tried to get up but her balance was off because of the alcohol in her system. As she stumbled between falling and standing, Jimin managed to get a hold of her from where he was sitting.

“You’re about to face-plant on the floor, Y/N. C’mere.”

He pulled her back on the ground and sat her between his legs. Y/N was tipsy but Jimin was drunk. He put his chin on her shoulder as he backhugged her. His speech was sluggish by this point.

“No one else has this, do they?” His hands went to her arms, then down to her hands to link them with his own.

“This.. what we have, I mean.”

“Jimin, what-“

“Even couples don’t have.. this. I’ve never been this carefree with any of my girlfriends. I could never have this much of a good time without thinking about anything else. We become very aware of our actions and like.. what they could mean or something, in a romance based relationship. But I don’t even think with you. I just know you get me. I dunno- does that make sense?”

Y/N could feel the air around them getting thicker.

“Yeah, but why-“

He turned her head slightly so that he could look her in the eyes.

“Y/N. This is serious, okay?” When he didn’t continue, Y/N slowly nodded so that he would.

“Promise me you’ll never have this with anyone else.”

“Jimin, why-“

“Do you promise?”

It was suffocatingly silent. Y/N knew what her answer was instantly. But she had no clues as to why Jimin would ask that. Or why he was being like this tonight…

“Okay, I do.”

Jimin’s stiffened look slowly softened after that. He wasn’t staring at her dead in the eyes anymore, either. Instead he had averted his gaze to the wall across the room.

“Taehyung likes you.”

Y/N jumped up with shock. A few seconds later, she sat back in front of him. This time facing him with a look that screamed confused as fuck.

“Jimin, what are you talking about?”

“He’s liked you for a long time now. He’d murder me if he knew I told you. But I had to. He might be my best friend but you’re my- well, bestest friend. Just don’t say anything to him about it.”

Taehyung was Jimin’s other best friend. He came into Jimin and Y/N’s lives in highschool. And after the two boys moved in as roomates in freshman year of college, they had become like brothers. Their characters were weirdly compatible. Jimin liked to be teasing and flirty but he was actually just cute as hell. Taehyung was shy and giggly but unknowingly he was sexy as hell. And Y/N did have an undeniable crush on him during the end of highschool and the beginning of college. But ever since things changed for her on the Christmas Eve of freshman year, she had forgotten about that.

Christmas Eve, two years ago was a night just like this one with Jimin and Y/N drinking and alone. Except, the faint sound of Empire Strikes Back could be heard from the TV. They weren’t exactly paying attention to it, both had seen it billions of times.

Jimin was nearly falling asleep with his head on Y/N’s lap. And Y/N had her attention on his hair. Running her hand through it in hopes to help him relax. Because Jimin had broken up with his girlfriend, earlier that evening. When Y/N asked if he’d wanna talk about it, their conversation went a little something like this:

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I mean, you guys didn’t really look like you were having issues. And you never told me that something was wrong. I just don’t get why you’d call it quits.”

“I didn’t wanna reflect this on you. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” He sighed and continued. “The fact that I have this close of a relationship with you had been bothering her for a while now. You know, because you’re a girl. And I’m tired of trying to explain it. Maybe no one but us can understand this.”

“So, you dumped her?!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you know me. I wanted to work it out but she.. asked me to choose her over you. And when I couldn’t, she just ended it.”

She wasn’t actually the first girl to ask that of Jimin. But it was the first time he talked to Y/N about it.

“Jimin.. I’m so sorry about that. Look, I’ll be more careful in the future. I’ll talk to her if you want-”

“No, Y/N. It’s okay. I already let her go.”

“But I thought you said you loved her.”

Jimin closed his eyes and turned away from Y/N before he said what he said next.

“I don’t love her as much as I love you.”

And that sentence made Y/N lose her shit. She was freaking out, trying not to take it the wrong way. And she knew that Jimin probably meant it in the most innocent way but her stupid heart wasn’t getting it. It didn’t make her think Jimin was in love with her. It just made her realize that maybe she wanted him to be. And so, her life had been very complicated after that night. Everything was the same except she now had feelings for her best friend. Perfect…

Tonight though, she just learned a brand new information and had no idea what to do with it. Also, she couldn’t make sense of the way Jimin delivered that information either.

“Jimin. If that’s true, then why are you telling me? And why now?”

“I guess the answer to both is because I’m drunk enough right now.”

Jimin got up, walked to his bed and plumped down on it.

“I wanted to say that- ugh I don’t wanna sound awkward.”

He just cared about her more than anyone. Because Y/N didn’t really find dating around easy or preferrable, there haven’t been any serious situations where he’d have to worry about her being hurt. But this time was different because he knew she had liked Taehyung in the past. The idea of things changing was stressful for Jimin. At least he got her to promise that they wouldn’t change.

“I guess I’ll be okay with it if you guys ever progress into anything.. more? Yeah.. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s Christmas!” And with that, he lied down, loudly yawning and getting ready to sleep.

Normally Y/N would lie down next to him and cuddle. Jimin was a natural hugger. And although Y/N made it look like she didn’t like skinship at first, there was no way Jimin would buy that. He always remembered a little girl who’d come to him for hugs when she was sad, not caring about seeming strong around him.

But tonight, Y/N went to sleep on the other bed instead. Because frankly, Jimin had annoyed her. He had just told her she was allowed date people, as long as she promised not to care about them more than Jimin himself. That was just selfish and inconsiderate in Y/N’s eyes. Cuz it wasn’t like he ever asked Y/N’s consent when he was the one dating people.

She decided to just sleep on everything that happened. So she closed her eyes and pulled the covers over herself. That was her first time falling asleep on Taehyung’s bed.

—–

The next morning –afternoon, really- she was being called back to consciousness by a deep but muffled voice with a tall figure hovering over her. But she didn’t wanna get up yet. That’s why she closed her eyes that were barely even opened in the first place and burried her head under the sheets. Only to be welcomed by the balmy fragrance belonging to the owner of the bed she was in. The scent could easily pull her back to dreamland but the deep voice just wouldn’t go away. Then a hand softly made contact with her shoulder, nudging it only a little.

“Yeah, what?”

“Y/N, wake up it’s me.” Y/N’s brain slowly started to decipher the deep voice. It sounded more and more familiar until it clicked. Taehyung.

She made a quick move to turn around and straigthen up on the bed. But since Taehyung was hovering over her and didn’t expect her to get up so suddenly she crashed into him. They bumped heads and it was both an embarrassing and a slightly painful experience.

“Sorry I- I’m so stupid-”

Taehyung couldn’t help but giggle.

“No, it’s okay. Are you okay?”

Y/N was also smiling. “Yeah..” Then she remembered who she was talking to and who’s bed she was in. Panic crept up to her brain in mere seconds. What was he gonna think about finding her in his bed, all messy and obviously hungover?

“Sorry I woke you. Your mom called. She couldn’t reach you. I guess Jimin was M.I.A for a while too, so she tried me. Lucky I came back early and found you. She sounded worried, maybe you should give her a call.”

Y/N’s mom had a habit of making a fuss when she couldn’t instantly reach Y/N. She searched for her phone, scanning through the bed with her hands. Until Taehyung reached over to the nightstand behind his bed. Doing this made his chest hover over Y/N once more, but this time at a much closer proximity cuz he was now sitting on the bed. He looked at Y/N and saw her stiffened posture because of that closeness, as he was pulling back.

“Oh, sorry.” His face was visibly getting redder. “Here.” He held out her phone. That’s right Y/N thought. She had put it there before going to sleep. As she was taking it from his hand, she saw how he was staring at the ground, timidly. He even scooted over to the other side of the bed to put the distance he unknowningly closed, between them again. And that summarized his sexy but shy character up perfectly, Y/N thought.

She decided to just text her mom instead of calling. It might’ve had something to do with being a little bitter about how her mom was always busy with other things on mostly every Christmas. Meanwhile she glanced over to Jimin’s bed and found it was empty. She thought about texting him. But then, her eyes landed on the coffee table and saw his phone was still there, where he left it last night. She found it to be strange. Why would he be in such a hurry that he’d forget his phone, on a free day like Christmas day?

What she didn’t know was Jimin had woken up in the middle of the night, feeling cold. When he realized the space next to him was empty, he looked around to find Y/N sleeping soundly on Taehyung’s bed. So that’s why he was cold. She had never slept anywhere but next to Jimin in all the times she stayed over. But as soon as he revealed Taehyung liked her, there she was, under the covers and all that. He hadn’t been able to sleep until the morning after that. So he had just up and left to clear his head.

“By the way, sorry for crashing on your bed. I uh- I know it looks weird-”

“Wha- No, it’s okay.” Taehyung could only appreciate the sight in front of him. “I knew you were gonna spend Christmas Eve with Jimin again, I knew you’d be here.” The twist was, he expected to find them curled up in Jimin’s bed as usual. But with him gone and with Y/N on this bed, he could sense something was up. He wasn’t gonna press about that, though. And Y/N appreciated it.

“So, why are you back so early?”

“Well, my parents planned a trip for three days including Christmas. But since we have exams coming right after the holiday, I thought I’d skip the whole thing. So we had a very early Christmas breakfast just before they left and I came here.”

“Oh. So you’ve joined the rest of us losers who get to spend the holiday here?” She joked around bitterly.

“Yeah. Kinda sucks how I spent 8 hours to go to and come back from home but I’ve only seen my parents for like 6.”

“At least you had breakfast with them. I haven’t had a proper breakfast since forever.”

It wasn’t like Y/N couldn’t cook or something. There just wasn’t much time for breakfast in their busy lives. With school, part time jobs and always getting up super early, days went by so fast. But today was a free day. And Taehyung had an idea.

“Well, we can actually make breakfast.. right now. Well, it’d be lunch but I’ve been grocery shopping before I came here.”

The offer put a smile on Y/N’s face, exactly as Taehyung wanted to achive.

“Can we make pancakes?”

They started off by searching for a recipe online.

“Got it. Pancakes for 2 persons-”

“We should probably double everything. Since we’re three with Jimin. Three with big appetites.” Y/N was proud of how much they all loved eating to be honest.

“Right, yup. Oh and by the way, do you know where he went off to?”

“Uh.. no.” She was starting to think Jimin left becuse he was upset with her for some reason. Her guess was close enough.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll show in a bit. And we’ll have breakfast ready for him.”

That cheered Y/N up a little. They were now trying to cook with two people in the very cramped up kitchen part of the room which only consisted of a stove, one counter and a mini fridge. It was a mess with Y/N bossing Taehyung around telling him what to do. Taehyung being mischevious and getting flour all over Y/N. Constantly bumping into each other and laughing like crazy. Total chaos but too much fun. And they were getting good looking pancakes as result.

All of this was helping Y/N remember why she had a crush on Taehyung and how it made her feel back then. Between all the giggling, they didn’t hear Jimin opening the door. They did hear the loud bang that came out when he shut it, though. Jimin was obviously not expecting such a view in front of him. He had a confused and somewhat hurt look on his face until he saw that the coffee table was set up for three people. He also saw his phone was there which was another relief for he had thought he dropped it somewhere.

“Taehyung, you’re already back?” He was talking to Taehyung but looking at Y/N.

“Yeah. No Christmas at home for me either this year. C'mon let’s dig in before the pancakes get cold.”

Only two types of conversation happened as they ate. Between Taehyung and Y/N. And between Taehyung and Jimin. Until Y/N decided to break it.

“Chim, where were you all morning?”

“I couldn’t really sleep from the cold all night. So I went to the coffee shop as soon as it was morning, to get warmer.” That was a figurative rock thrown at Y/N for not cuddling him, despite knowing how sensetive he was to cold. She rolled her eyes. But even though she had done it to kinda punish him last night, it still made her feel bad.

“Guys I should get going. Gotta take care of some school stuff.” Y/N said as she got up to walk to the door. “But tonight, I’m hosting Christmas dinner and you both have to come, no excuses.”

Jimin smiled sincerely -for the first time that day- at how she could easily get bossy and motherlike.

“You’ll also be required to have some of my mom’s magic soup I’ll make to protect us from the cruel winter, so be prepared.” And with that, she walked out. Jimin’s eyes watched her with adoration as she left. But his face dropped when he saw Taehyung had the same expression.

“Bro, I wish you were here this morning when I came in.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I kinda freaked out when I saw her all snuggled up on my bed. I hope she didn’t notice.”

“I think it went okay, Tae. You guys had alone time like you wanted.”

“True. I just get so nervous, man. But I think there was something there while we were cooking together. I hope I’m not being crazy.”

There was something, alright. And it was all thanks to Jimin and his big mouth. But why was it this hard to even think about these two people he cared deeply for, becoming closer?

It was nearly evening when Jimin saw Taehyung getting ready, trying extra hard to look good. While Jimin himself was relaxed on his bed.

“Dude, going somewhere fancy?”

The confident Taehyung posing stiriking looks at the mirror, instantly turned into a giggly kid at Jimin’s comment.

“Well, dinner time’s closing in. I thought I’d go over to Y/N’s a bit early and maybe help out?”

“Oh..” Jimin got up at once. He was quickly getting ready, putting some casual clothes on in a rush and talking at the same time.

“Uhh, actually I’m supposed to go earlier because we were gonna work on some moves for the Spring Musical thing. I should probably hurry over there.” Jimin moved at lightning speed towards the door.

“O- Okay.. I should let you guys focus then, I’ll be over later.”

He was thoughtful despite being dissappointed so Jimin turned back just as he was about to leave.

“Sorry, bro. Thanks.” he said and darted out.

When Y/N answered her impatiently knocked door, she didn’t expect to find Jimin, looking soft in his oversized hoodie but staring her up with a fierce demeanor. Curse and bless that duality.

“Hey, angel.” He let himself in. “Do you need any help with the dinner?”

“No, I already have everything ready. But you can set up the table, Chimmy.”

Y/N was glad they didn’t seem to be at odds anymore. Neither of them was good at staying mad at the other.

Jimin went over to the little cupboard where he knew the utensils were and brought two sets of everything to her little table. Y/N thought of it to be habit, as it was just the two of them mostly. So she grabbed and placed another serving on the table, herself.

“Hey we should call Tae over before dishes go cold.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Right, I’ll text him.”

“Can you check if the soup has enough salt?” Y/N was holding out a spoonful of it for Jimin to taste. He leaned in with his mouth wide open but Y/N stopped him suddenly.

“Wait! It’s hot you silly.” She blew on the spoon. “Now you can have it.”

Jimin looked at her fondly before tasting it.

“Mm~ it’s perfect.” He booped her nose and she scrunched it. But she actually loved it when he did that.

“Did you text Tae yet?”

“I’m about to, woman. What’s the rush? Sick of me that easily?” He was whining and complaining like a child, Y/N loved it when he did that, also.

“What’re you talking about? Meals are gonna get cold.”

Jimin did text him finally, but not without frowning.

“Did you and him talk about- you know..?”

“Wh- No! Why would I bring that up? You shouldn’t either. Ever.” Y/N felt flustered enough as it was. After finding out about Taehyung’s feelings, she had become confused about her own.

“Why? Don’t you like him as well?”

“Jimin- Can we drop the topic? He might walk through the door any second!”

“No, he’d knock first. Even I knock.”

And he did knock. Right at that second. Y/N ran to answer it, all the while sending Jimin implying looks to get him to keep his mouth shut about the subject.

“Am I late?”

“Nope. Actually right on time.” Right on time for Y/N to escape Jimin’s interrogation.

“I was surprised when Jimin texted this soon. Did you already decide on moves for the musical?”

Jimin’s eyes went wide with panic. Caught in a lie. Fortunately, Y/N caught on quickly and didn’t want any fuss.

“Uh.. well no, not yet. What Jimin came up with was no good.”

Hurtful.. But Jimin let it go because she did just saved his ass there. Although he was sure she’d question him about it later.

Dinner went great with everyone having fun. Then, they were about to move from the table to where the small, shit TV Y/N brought from her family’s old house was. As mentioned before, Y/N’s room was smaller than Jimin and Taehyung’s. So was her couch. If they were gonna watch Home Alone as planned, one of them had to sit on the floor cushion.

After losing rock-paper-scissors Jimin was stuck doing the dishes. Y/N went to the TV to put the movie on and Taehyung took a seat on the couch, waiting for her to join him when she was done. But Y/N sat on the cushion instead, trying to be polite to her guests. As Taehyung was contemplating on how to get her to come up to the couch, Jimin appeared and went straight to sit next to Y/N.

“Guys, isn’t it cold to sit on the ground? Maybe we can all squeeze here.”

“There?” Y/N looked up to him over her shoulder and joked bitterly. “You don’t even believe that.”

“Alright but at least one of you can come up here. Y/N?”

“Nah, I’ll warm us up. C’mere, panda.” Jimin pulled Y/N to him until there was no more space and trapped her in his embrace. Taehyung wasn’t supposed to get jealous. They’d always do that. Cling onto each other any chance they get, casually hold hands and even sleep next to each other. But the eyeing look Jimin occasionally gave him over his shoulder made it seem like all this wasn’t just bff stuff. Taehyung felt that maybe Jimin was trying to keep Y/N away or even, to himself.

After the movie was over, Taehyung excused himself, saying he felt exhausted. He was awake since before sunrise, after all. Actually, so was Jimin but he on the other hand didn’t plan on leaving any time soon. Y/N was seeing Taehyung out, with a smile on her face. Taehyung returned it shyly, eyes on the ground until he gathered the courage to look up at her through the fringe of his hair.

“Thanks for everything. Especially the soup. I had a bit of a sore throat but not anymore. You’re my hero.”

That last part came out with so much meaning, words dipped in his velvety voice. And it made Y/N beam at him.

“You wanna hang out tomorrow?”

Jimin stopped breathing. Of course he was listening in before, while pretending to be on his phone. But right now, they had his full, undivided attention.

It came as a bit of a shock to Y/N as well. It wouldn’t sound like a big deal -just hanging out, if it weren’t for the eager look on Taehyung’s face.

“Yeah..” The word just slipped out of Y/N’s mouth before she could even think.

It was Taehyung’s turn to beam. “Great.” With that, he bid his farewell and left, all the while grinning like a fool.

Y/N was also smiling while closing the door but that was only until she turned around and saw the we’re about to have a serious talk face Jimin had.

“You do know he meant that as a date, right?” Jimin had gotten up from his seat, panicked and jumpy.

“Why did you lie to him about coming here early?”

He scoffed at her attempt to change the subject.

“Because I wanted to talk to you alone, about all this. Would you rather I brought him along?” His voice was loud.

“What more is there to say? You’ve already told me you were okay with it!”

Jimin dropped all of his defenses at that. Because it was true. Why wouldn’t he be? Taehyung was maybe the only guy he could trust with Y/N. So he wasn’t really worried. What was the name of the feeling sitting heavily on his chest, then? He didn’t know.

“I know.” he said in a low voice that sounded like a whisper and sat back down on the couch. “And I want you to feel- I dunno.. happy. I see how you smile at him, too.” He was more mumbling than talking. Because it was hard saying all this, for reasons he didn’t understand. “You know I love your smile.”

Y/N blushed out of nowhere at his last comment. And the upset state of him softened her so she went over to him. Jimin continued:

“I just, I guess I don’t like sharing your smile.. or you.”

Y/N brought her hand on his chin to pull his head up and make him look at her.

“Chim Chim.. you’re worried about nothing.”

He tried to avert his gaze once more but Y/N held it in place.

“Hey, I mean it. Because it’s not even a big deal as you make it out to be and even if it was.. I already promised you, didn’t I?”

Jimin wanted to be relieved. And he pretended to be in that moment and said goodnight shortly after. But as he strolled outside in the cold he felt like there was more he wanted to say to her. He silently promised he would, as soon as he figures it out himself.

…

Author’s note: Hello:) That was long, sorry. I just can’t stop writing this one. Thank you so so much if you bared with me and read it, I hope you liked it. I’ve got more intense stuff planned for the story so this will have at least one more part for sure. What do you guys think? Who should Y/N end up with?

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fericita-s · 4 years

Text

For the Good of the Many

The next story in the “When All is Lost” series that @the-spastic-fantastic and I are working on to tell the story of Agnarr & Iduna. As always, thanks for beta-ing and helping me work through this @the-spastic-fantastic!

This takes place after the “Ring in the Season This Year” story.

That night in his too-big room, Agnarr got out of bed and began to pace by the fire, giving a quick “No thank you,” to the servant who knocked and asked if he needed anything. He thought about Eir’s and how the children came to live there. Agnarr wondered if anyone thought about putting their fourteen-year-old prince there, instead of installing him as their new King after the death of his father. What a relief it would be, to be free of the duties of leading a kingdom, especially leading a kingdom through grief so deep as theirs, and through dangers more real and present than Arendelle had seen in several generations. With their best engineers and builders and diplomats and soldiers gone in the mist, Arendelle was struggling. It was a small kingdom – already the council had conscripted their women along with the men in order to replace military losses in the North. What new sacrifices could his people make to ensure their standing among their more powerful neighbors?

He also found himself thinking of Iduna and the losses she had suffered. He wondered at the depth of them and if she felt them pressing the breath out of her, making it hard to breathe and hard to think. He thought they might have that in common.

Seeing her and talking to her, he had found it hard to breathe and hard to think, but it didn’t feel like grief. It was a pleasant shortness of breath, a delightful confusion. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted to see her again. He thought about her smile and her easy manner with the younger children. He thought about how she gave up going to the Yule Bell ceremony, and her willingness to take care of children she didn’t know well. He marveled at how she could bring brightness to others while being sad herself. Then, abashed, he thought about how the King of Arendelle should seek to sacrifice comfort, bring joy, and give the people something to hope for. The new year was coming soon and it would not do to have a monarch paralyzed by his own grief. He had to be the confident and strong king his people needed. Or, at least, he needed to pretend for the good of the many. His resolve strengthened, he went back to his bed, large and cold, and dreamed of winds that pushed and pulled him up, lifting him over stones, and through mist.

***

The next morning the council convened. The council was a trying place, even in the best of times. Today was among the worst. Usually the council was able to disband for the winter holidays, but this year was different. They were working at a brisk pace to keep up with the needs of their citizens. And since the usual joyful cheer of Yule was deadened by the absence of so many loved ones, the council had not objected to the extra sessions. If anything, Agnarr thought they were using the occasion as an excuse to take out their anger on one another instead of their loved ones. The few loved ones that remained anyway.

The Minister of Trade, Captain Calder, wanted to explore new trade routes. The Minister of War, Lord Hannesel, was certain this would invite disaster.

“We’ll never be able to man those ships! We already have women on the castle guard! We’ll have to start conscripting ten-year-olds next.”

Agnarr thought of the ten-year-olds at Eir’s, eager to play and explore, still very much children. Being a confident, strong leader was going to be harder than he reckoned during his pacing the night before.

The district leaders were adamant that their ruined cobblestones or crumbling footbridges were worse than anyone else’s, and the Minister of Health was convinced that if the merchants selling lutefisk were not required to add a specific amount of salt to their treating solutions, the toll on citizenry would be catastrophic. And in the room, the absence of loved ones lost to the Northern Expedition felt tangible, a grief able to be seen in its heaviness of presence.

Lord Hannesel was droning on again. “If other countries learn of our recently depleted force, they will be on our shores before we can mount a defense. They may have already been so told. There have been far too many whispers of foreigners about.”

Agnarr felt anger uncoil in his chest immediately, and did his best to conceal it, to keep it from reaching his face. His father had always warned him to show little emotion when making decisions known. It was the way to be respected and followed. No one would trust a ruler who was ruled by emotion. “Conceal what you feel. Don’t let it show. Give a strong, steady answer or wait until you can.” He could hear his father’s voice as though he was standing next to him. The speech had been given often to Agnarr when he was angry - usually when Agnarr wanted to read and his father wanted him to practice archery or fencing.

“We don’t need ten-year-olds as soldiers,” Captain Calder sneered as he spoke and Lord Hannesel gave a huff of irritation.

Agnarr interrupted the overlapping replies of the other ministers and councillors. “We don't need to cut off contact, we don’t need to root out foreigners. And we don’t need to give ten-year-old children deadly jobs. Ten-year-old children should be in school. We should build a school. A new school, where all the children can attend together.” The council looked at him in astonishment. In his short reign, the king had not said much. And now he proposed a school? This brought more loud voices and arguments from the room, and finally Agnarr stopped them by pushing his chair out and leaving the room.

He sent Kai in to close the meeting according to protocol. Kai was barely older than him, but loved nothing more than observing and ordering the strict rules of the royal court. Agnarr had seen him hovering by the door, waiting to help.

Just now what would help Agnarr was a walk outside. The weather was cold and cutting, and the tears in the corners of his eyes were drawn out by the cold. Probably. It was hard trying to put aside his mourning to lead. Especially with a group of leaders who were acting like children.

Agnarr thought of the children he had spent Yule with, and about how there was so much promise in them. Iduna with her ability to help Iggy and Stig recover from their illness, Aksel who was quick with a helping hand to unload the gifts, Jac who helped the little ones assemble their bells, and Eydis who wanted to read every book that had been delivered. With school, with the best tutors and units of study, what might they become? Arendelle had lost some of its most able citizens. Training a new generation in science and engineering and the advancements in transportation and productions: that was the way forward for his people. A school. A school funded and run by the royal family of Arendelle. Which of course, was just him at the moment.

***

The next day in the council chambers, Agnarr stood and told his councillors what they would be doing next. He wasn’t sure if as a fourteen-year-old king he truly had that power, but he decided to assume he did. This was the first idea that made sense to him since becoming king. It felt like a way out of their valley of kingdom-wide grief.

“People feel pinched now, there is not enough, too much is missing. But we have always been a kingdom that stands for the good of the many. We will bring in teachers and start an academy. We will begin a new era of science, of advancements, of triumphs in engineering and industry. The children will go to school. All the children. The ones in the village, the ones on the mountain, and the ones at Eir’s. A school that goes beyond what has been taught in the kingdom thus far.”

“Where should we have it? Here at the castle?” Agnarr could hear the disbelief in the Lord Hannesel’s answer, but chose to ignore it.

“Yes, we should have it here at the castle. We are a nation that invites each citizen to take part in its triumphs. Any child ten or older shall be invited to come and study. No one shall be forced, but all are welcomed.”

Agnarr looked around the table and saw a nod from Captain Calder, a shrug of agreement from the Minister of Health, and some other tepid support. The Royal Academy would proceed.

***

As he walked with Kai on the castle grounds after the meeting, they mostly kept silent as they avoided icy patches on the path. Agnarr was relieved to have the support, however mild, from the council.

Did he want to learn, and have others learn, to make his small nation strong, or did he want to stop being lonely? Did it matter? A king must do what's best for his country, but if that aligned with what he wanted, all the better.

Kai asked, “Is there anything I should do for His Majesty today?”

Agnarr cleared his throat and spoke in the voice of a king. “Yes. You will help organize the new school. Dispatch instructions to the palace tutors to prepare lessons for large groups of students, and begin to search for new tutors as needed. Send word to the citizens, including the children at Eir’s.” At the name “Eir’s, ” Agnarr’s voice cracked. He adjusted his necktie and kept walking, the heat from his cheeks making the cold air more tolerable.

Even as he directed Kai to begin the preparations, he felt the desire to see Iduna apart from any plans for his kingdom. Maybe she could teach him how to be helpful to his kingdom the way she was helpful at Eir's. Maybe she could teach him how to live in mourning, how to make it through the mist of grief that still seemed to surround him and paralyze his ability to think, to plan, to dream. Maybe they could help each other, and maybe he could hold her hand and see if it felt as warm as her smile.

#agduna #mama and papa arendelle #young agnarr #young iduna #when all is lost #for the good of the many

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madamhatter · 4 years

Text

kiboumukou inquired: /)///v///(\ Send “/)///v///(\” to see how my muse would talk about yours to another person. | accepting ! | @kiboumukou

Designated and condemned to the outside world was all that Sophie Hatter feared as the ropes of control were slowly sliding out of her palms, burning her in her descent from powerlessness. Alas, with proper reconfiguration and a reality check, the eldest of three begrudgingly left the safe confines of her dorm room and gathered her composure. After all, the sole reason why she would push herself, despite the blatant plunge into a depressive episode, was only one of two lives that made her life worth something.

“Sophie, relax, no one is going to notice us.” Huffing and rolling her eyes, Lettie shifts her weight in the white-wired chair with her flat, dark as night hair falling over her shoulders. With the length of her pale finger, she twirls her finger into the tips of her hair, eyes unable to pry away from her evermoving, ever restless sister. Compared between the two, black hair versus brown hair, ocean eyes versus earthly eyes, Lettie could reason as to why her eldest sister would’ve been on the alert as she was the most beautiful out of the three they belonged to a recognizable fashion company with some popularity overseas. Well, the second-born would be noticed. As for the eldest, given her mousey habits, she’d soon scurry than ever conduct interviews outside of controlled environments and agreements with limited availability.

“Lettie, you can’t ever be too sure--” Sophie fans her hand, awkwardly scooting her chair to face her sister as they both were comfortably settled outside at the cafe’s patio. Without needing to acknowledge her younger sister, the brunette could already envision how Lettie could tilt her head back, brows quirked as if ready to snark back. “And I would appreciate no comments about the ridiculousness of my claims, thank you,” she hurriedly whispers, quick to reason with her otherwise bull-headed sister. Though, on the contrary, it was all three of the sisters that were as stubborn as to what they held in their name as Hatters.

“Speaking of you,” Lettie slowly drums her fingers on the tabletop, observing her sister preoccupy herself with her sketchbook, “I haven’t heard a lick about you since I got here. I’ve spent all this morning being probed with questions from you about myself. Which, frankly, I don’t mind. But, I haven’t heard a thing from you! Y’know, I thought you being out here would help with your problem--”

“Enough,” The eldest of three doesn’t raise her gaze from the pages yet her tongue is quicker to maintain the conversation. “If Martha and I didn’t say anything, you’ll be wasting away in that office and alcove still,” Lettie sharply replies, eyes narrowing. Yet, no satisfaction comes with how unresponsive the eldest is, “sooner, you’d be falling to the floor and just like father--” A pulse of indignation swept through Lettie, yet she lifts her head, deep breathing to balance her emotions and thoughts. Her voice dips into a whisper, brows pressed in worry, “Sophie, is this even helping? Can you stop acting for one second?”

Plummeting into silence, Lettie’s shoulders straighten. What she sees is far too cold, calm. Sophie straightens herself into her seat, eyes burrowing her sister. Only by the shadows filling in her sunken sockets was there a color of emotion -- an eerie one, at that. “If you’re this insistent, I’ll tell you.”

“Truthfully, the student body at Hope’s Peak Academy are remarkable subjects to observe. Getting a brief grasp of the divide between the main course and reserve course is as stark as a mustard stain on mother’s fine china collection. The entitlement in several of my peers in my year, and even in the younger students in my course, is absolutely unfathomable. Yet, entitlement is a poison for the bright future minds that are coddled by this system.” Sophie gestures her hand into the air, eyes averting in her lengthy explanation. “The arbitrary nature of ‘Ultimates’ and how finicky their titles can be is more than a headache when needing to understand the abysmal and brutal culture focused on schools in Japan. However, needing to comprehend all that I must is a part of my work, whether or not I like it.”

“Hope’s Peak Academy, as well, has provided the most interesting set of acquaintances I could acquire for my line of work. Not at all bafflingly, being surrounded by so many peers of my own age is still a hurdle that I must get over. After spending half of my life with associates practically twice or thrice my age, I’m a failure through my atypical socialization. However, this does mean that the student body, regardless of the course they’re in, provides me more opportunities in learning different behaviors and developing future plans, if I see them fit for it.”

Apathy laced thoughts wallow in the unmasked Hatter, her body adjusting to recline against her seat, ankles crossed, but her left hand flared out in deliberation. “Compared to my previous school, there are far less blue-blooded belligerents who are as desperate to entangle and meddle in affairs not meant for them. Or, even worse, begin those scandalous affairs within the student body, inspired their own air-headedness and self-absorption. Alas, who am I to prescribe such a truth to the Academy? There’s plenty there to question in regard to the integrity and soundness in the Academy's foundation and structure. Yet, that could only be the pessimism in me too caught up in the obscure.” The woman turns her chin, dissatisfaction souring her cold expression for a frown. “Or it is just me too caught with everything.”

Pleats of winter white cascade over the horizon, seamless and untouched snow decorating rooftops, window sills, tree branches, and sidewalks. Pressing her chapped lips together, a hiss of opaque air leaves her lips, a puff of white shortly ascending and disappearing into the stratosphere. Elbow angled on the armrest, the young woman perches her chin on top of the falt on her scarred-infested palm. Countless and unrecognizable denizens stroll through the snowy blocks, living their own lives, all of which left the young woman in a soundless daze -- yearning for all its worth, despite how convoluted understanding it was. What did she want anymore? How could she want when fate mangles her like she was its own marionette?

“I find myself in the oddest predicaments.” Dismissing her ever-turbulent insecurities and unanswerable problems, the eldest daughter waves her hand into the chilly air, grumbling with a shine of suppressed irate hidden under her tongue. An utterance muffled against the calloused flesh of her palm, another air of frustration and uncertainty filters into the morrow. Typical fashion for the Hatter, silently left to her devices and surrounded by thorns that dig and exsanguinate the remnants of childish longing in her heart.

“Life is is still the same,” shrugging, Sophie’s attention remains on the picturesque downtown of Bunkyo, Tokyo. “I still don’t see why I was chosen,” she confessed as her voice was muffled by her palm, her brows knitting. “Goodness, this school makes the poorest of choices,” she shakes her head.

“However, it’s unexpectantly different,” a glimmer returns to her eyes as she lifts her chin, her face fully visible, “in the rare cracks of free time I could garner between school and work, there was some normalcy. For example, one of my classmates happens to be an avid reader like myself, but he tends to keep to himself. But, there are moments of disarming laughter and banter, something that clears my mind, if not for a moment--”

However, the Hatter raises her hand, closing her eyes to muffle her tired laughter, “I wonder if this is why he refers to me as batty. Half of the time I must talk his ear off whenever I’m on break.” Sophie fingers slowly begin to tread through her locks, dividing between the rustic brown and shimmering silver. “Mind you, he does his best to keep himself in order when he notices how out of the loop I am. Several times, his disposition is rougher than it needs to be before he realizes the errors of his ways. I suppose that’s natural for him--”

“Hajime is interesting. He’s one of the students from the Reserve course, not at all someone who beats around the bush. Set and ready to speak his mind as he doesn’t follow polite procedure when his heart is set in stone. Though, that’s only when someone could get under his skin, which he may not realize it’s easy most of the time. I’m not comparing him to an open book, but he’s certainly a hedgehog on some days.”

“I’m not sure how it all began, truthfully. One moment I’m going between my classroom, conferences, to my dorm room without second thought on most days. In the next moment, I’m bunching up my skirts and trying to find him like a bloodhound from the Scottish Yard. It would be wrong to say he’s easy to talk to; I believe it’s ill-mannered to consider someone ‘easy.’ As far as a conversation partner, he’s amongst the most ‘normal,’ even if seems bothered by the notion of normalcy. Actually, I take that back. it’s just nice to talk to him; I enjoy hearing his opinions, listening about topics far and over my head. When he steps away from his bluntness and defensiveness, he’s warm, considerate--”

“He’s a lanky fellow, with spring green eyes always wide and quick to reflect his emotions and with messy brown hair with an ‘antenna’ sprouting on the top of it. I would consider him a head and a half taller than me, give or take. Physical appearance aside, there’s a remarkability about him that he’s stupidly blind about. Any compliment sent his way is met with skepticism and questioned. He isn’t a step shy of doubting himself whenever he can be considered different from how he sees himself. I sometimes cannot comprehend why he cannot see what I can.”

“Maybe that’s why I find myself conversing with him as often? Misery loves company and I suppose as one who’s as self-dejected as he is, it only becomes second-hand to identify another cut from the same cloth. He’s as determined to be unique but, he sells himself short and his own goal...is concerning.” Sophie sinks into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “At least, what he implies in every day talk is more than revealing; he’s mastered devaluing himself over, possibly, years of modeling from everyone else defining of who he’s to be. Or, he overanalyzes what he ‘lacks’ in a title. It is easier for a young mind to simplify problems to simple solutions.”

“I just--I just don’t understand why he can’t see I what I see!” Sophie sighs with frustration, one hand now gesturing into the air. “Opinionated, awkward, determined, understanding, and caring-- He has a nice smile but he goes off deflecting it! Imagine his face if I even dared expressed my thoughts on his laugh! He’s probably going to tell me to bugger off! But, will I? Of course not!”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply, slowing her words from her fuming rant. “There is so much more there but he sets himself back and it drives me insane. I might be the ‘Mad Hatter’ by those who make fun of me, but good Lord, I might end up becoming that the longer I think of it! He’s a good person, and maybe he just doesn’t understand how rare it is--”

“---And maybe that’s why it’s all the more worrying,” Sophie hushes. “A good person may not always know that they are, maybe feel inadequate about something that doesn’t feel right. A good person -- they could be used too. They could be taken advantage of and they may believe it’s for the better.”

“I--” Sophie shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Configuring herself, Sophie sits up proper in her hair. “I don’t have much to say on the matter nor do I know how to define it. All I know is that his company is appreciated-- Maybe it’s a friendship--” Yet that train of thought dissolves to unbridled laughter, shakey and downright sardonic.

“But, that can’t be the case. There’s no time..no point. The moment that door opens, I will be dragged back to my fate. Back to the eldest of three, the inheritor after father’s work, the one meant for...” Sophie drums her fingers on the table, staring down at the unfinished lineart on her sketchbook, briefly meeting eyes with her sister, before turning reclusive altogether.

“Are you satisfied now, Lettie?” Sophie provides a forced polite smile, hollow yet well-trained to fool common eyes. “I promise you; there’s nothing happening in my life or will be happening anytime soon.”

Lettie, upon being on the receiving end on one of Sophie’s infamous rants, plainly taken her glass, sipping it slowly with her brows raised. “Hm.” That sounded quite doubtful.

#( verse: the ultimate ᶠᵃᶦˡᵘʳᵉ hatter | school life )#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks )#kiboumukou #long post tw #long post #[ my original draft was deleted thanks to tumblr -- so have this instead! ]

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365daysoftododeku · 5 years

Text

20th February 2019

Author: CrzA

________________________________________________________________

We Make Our Own Adventures

Being a pro hero is busy work. Between chasing down villains, saving people in need and the mountains of paperwork resulting from it all, they hardly have any time to live their lives. This is especially true for Izuku, given that even on his days off he still finds a way to either get himself into trouble or try to get someone else out of it. Sometimes both on the same day, if not even in the same hour.

Though, busy as their lives may be, there’s a few moments of quietude in the office, late nights where only a few people stay behind for one reason or another. And when Izuku finds himself in the artificially lit room, alone with only his boyfriend, he can’t help the way his lips quirk upwards as soon as he looks up from the papers and notes this fact. His eyes dart around the empty room one more time before landing on Shouto’s back as he finishes the coffee in his hand and throws the paper cup away, rubbing at his likely sore neck with a small groan.

Slowly, Izuku drops his pen, getting to his feet and stalking towards Shouto, quiet as a mouse. Butterflies flutter in his chest in a way that never really stopped from the moment he felt the spark between them that became the fire sustaining their relationship. Perhaps it’s these little things that feed that flame and make it burn brighter, the fact that no matter how busy, how exhausted they are, they’ll always find these moments to share together, as silly as they may be. In the midst of all the tension and the weight of the world on their shoulders, Izuku likes to find light-heartedness wherever he can.

And right now, he’s been craving something for longer than he cares to admit and the perfect opportunity has just presented itself to him. He knows Shouto is more than strong enough to handle all of his weight even when taken by surprise. Still, as he gets a tiny head start, he calls for his boyfriend, seeing him turn his head just in time for Izuku to hop onto his back, legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders.

Shouto wobbles slightly, his hands coming to support him by the thighs and regaining his balance with a little grunt. Izuku clings to him for just a moment, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and leaving a feather-light kiss there, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. When Shouto turns to look at him, one snowy eyebrow raised in amusement as he pulls away with a wide grin, Izuku adjusts his position so that he’s more comfortable on Shouto’s back. He straightens up, lifting himself slightly, and points towards the door that leads to the main hall of the office.

“Go forth my loyal steed!” He shouts, not too loud in the otherwise silent room as not to disturb the stillness. Shouto simply shakes his head, not really making any move to carry him anywhere, so Izuku shimmies on his back, nudging him forward. “Onwards! To war!”

There’s hints of a giggle building in his voice, but he manages to keep it down, poking Shouto on his cheek in a not so subtle way of saying ‘indulge me’. Rolling his eyes, his boyfriend lifts him further, bouncing him without warning and nearly starling him down to the floor, though Izuku just holds on tighter to his neck, chin resting on the top of his head with a lilting laugh.

Shouto straightens his posture too, Izuku slipping a little backwards with a yelp, but he’s held by hands hooking behind his knees. Before he actually starts moving, Shouto lets out the most monotone, serious ‘neigh’ and Izuku has to bite back the urge to snicker, failing miserably and starting to shake with the tiny giggles that break through him.

Shouto carries him around the office, coming across the few familiar faces that still linger in the late hours of the night. They offer them sheepish grins and small nods of their heads, continuing forward on some imaginary quest as Izuku relays their supposed encounters with an added flare, as if narrating an epic worthy of being carried through the generations. A knight and his mount, braving the harsh winters and scorching summers as they traverse lands overrun by tyranny and rid small villages of the evils plaguing them.

When they come across a very unamused Katsuki, narrowing his eyes at them, Shouto stops, seeing that he has no intention to move from blocking their path. The blond crosses his arms over his chest, the look of someone who’s ‘too tired for this’ settling on his disgruntled face and Izuku perks up, swinging an invisible sword at him.

“Who dares bar the path of this great knight and his trusted stallion?”

“What are you two nerds doing?”

“There is a threat upon us! I must vanquish this evil-doer before they lay waste to the village! The vilest of monsters quiver before my shadow! Step aside, peasant, or you shall be treated as a traitor to the crown for defending these fiends and face the wrath of my sword!”

“Neigh.”

With a chortle, Izuku pats Shouto’s head and Katsuki actually snorts, shaking his head with a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips as he moves out of the way with a half-hearted wave.

“Whatever, idiots, I’m going home. Not a peasant, by the way, if anything I’m the damn king of this joint.”

“Ah, certainly, your majesty. Safe travels and may the lord bless you with good weather and plentiful spoils.” Izuku replies with a nod of his head, nudging Shouto to keep walking.

He does another lap around the office, nodding and smiling at whoever they pass until they loop back to Izuku’s desk where Shouto moves to set him down. Yet Izuku keeps holding on, a breathy sigh escaping him as he basks in his boyfriend’s warmth, rubbing his cheek against the other’s. His eyes flutter closed, sleep suddenly coming for him with a vengeance, and the thought that he still has paperwork to finish is honestly very unappealing so he whines lowly in a childish protest. He feels Shouto turn his face, cool lips caressing his cheeks gently.

Izuku melts against Shouto, moving so that he can steal an actual kiss, soft and slow, a scarred hand coming to tangle in red and white locks as he pulls them away from his eyes. They get a little lost in each other’s taste, finding that the last time they kissed feels far too distant even if they’d shared a few chaste ones earlier that day. Izuku nibbles on Shouto’s bottom lip, their mouths parting slightly and granting each other permission to take the kiss further.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles them back to reality, bursting the bubble that had formed around them suddenly and making Shouto’s grip on Izuku’s legs slacken. Izuku slides from his hold, landing on the hard floors with a loud thud and a grumble much to their company’s amusement.

Ochako steps inside, leaving another stack of papers on Izuku’s desk. There’s another muffled noise as Izuku lets himself fall backwards to fully lie on the ground, covering his face with his arms. Whoever said hero work was nothing but excitement had clearly forgotten about what happens when they’re not out in the field.

“Sorry, Deku. Most of those aren’t urgent, but there’s at least a couple that need to be handed in by tomorrow.”

Izuku nods miserably from his newfound home on the hardwood floors before sitting back up. Shouto crouches beside him, leaving a peck on his forehead then ruffling his hair as he stands to go out.

“I’ll bring you some coffee.”

“Thanks. Love you.” He smiles, exhaustion finally showing on his face.

Shouto returns the gesture, following behind Ochako with a soft “I love you too” as Izuku lazily lifts himself towards his desk and slumps on the chair, the sweet and silly moment gone. It was lovely while it lasted.

His boyfriend returns not long after, steaming hot cup of coffee in his right hand as he cools it to just the perfect temperature Izuku likes. Shouto sits on his desk and Izuku rests his head on his lap with a sigh. And at least he’s here with me for all the others.

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Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

#Story #crzangel #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu #long post

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awholeotherlevel · 5 years

Text

Valley of Shadows-Chapter 1

By Camille Scott

Harriet stretched a slender arm sideways, grasping the bar underneath her foot. She touched forehead to knee, before whisking the leg from its perch. Harriet retreated, leaving Bach alone with his music. Such were the times she was at peace; on the verge of exhaustion, the ballerina ran fresh bathwater and added a touch of jasmine to the swirling water.

In the bedroom, Harriet peeled off her leotard. She returned to the bathroom and quickly immersed herself in the foaming liquid. Bach floated into the room. Harriet smiled and began scrubbing her skin with the soapy towel. Now that the ballet tour was over, she would go and see about mom. Her brother sent the text last night.

Some mothers phoned, hers contracted mysterious illnesses. Visits from each of her children were the doses necessitated by her “illnesses.” Harriet and her siblings loathed such visits and went reluctantly. Guilt forced them there, maintaining its unwavering grasp on the reins of their conscience. The adult children had been summoned to pay homage to their earthly master; the one mortal who could break their spirits.

An oppressive sense of obligation would take Harriet, Rachel, and Richard into custody until they had done their duty. Then having served their time, they would be released on parole into the world beyond their mother’s front gate. Poor Joshua never did escape. He still lived with her.

Harriet sighed over the uneasy, guilt laden days and sleepless nights that lay ahead. Then she dismissed the burdensome thoughts and summoned up more pleasant ones. Harriet thought about the previous nights’ performance. Her mind’s eye traveled across the happy faces in the Parisian audience. A faint smile spread across her face.

She completed her task and climbed out of the tub, wrapping herself in a bath towel before releasing the water. Bach had already finished and lay dormant until his presence was again requested. Harriet gazed at her reflection, attributing grace to the sharp almost gaunt face, overlooking the cloudy eyes and dark circles that had begun to show despite her deep complexion.

“Now that the show is over, I can eat a decent meal. Not now though, I’ve got a plane to catch tonight and I haven’t even thought about packing!”

* * *

Across the ocean in a New York apartment, lay Harriet’s brother Richard listening to the sounds of traffic and pedestrians below his open window. Darkness was absolute. HIs body tensed and relaxed, fighting for control of his consciousness. All at once, the battle ended. Richard’s body was overcome with fatigue and he fell into a fitful sleep:

“Richard? Richard! Where are you boy?”

“Mom, is that you?”

“Who do you think it is boy? Get in this house. You haven’t done a single chore!”

In the dream, Richard started towards the house staring in disbelief. With each step, the house seemed to shift and expand, to age. He reached the front porch and suddenly found himself before a dilapidated building. Anxiety numbed his faculties, holding him riveted to that spot. Richard knew that he had seen the building before, but where? Where?

“Richard, if I have to come get you, then you’ll be sorry!”

“B-but mom, this isn’t our house.”

“Stop talking foolish and get in here boy!”

He lingered for a moment, stunned by a powerful foreboding brought on by the strange familiarity of the building and the situation before him.”

“Get in here now!”

Her angry voice propelled him forward, through a decaying door, into the darkness beyond it.

“Well, it’s about time! What in the hell were you doing? Always running off somewhere...”

Richard followed the sound of his mother’s voice, until it stopped abruptly. The darkness suddenly contracted; pushing in on all sides like thousands of tiny hands. Richard gasped stale air. All at once, the sensation ceased. He felt a presence behind him and spun around to face a woman’s shadowy figure. Richard recognized her and the entire situation came back to him.

“Is that? Oh no, she’s going to..nooooo!”

Richard with a jolt. The sound of the gunshot echoed in his mind. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized that it had just been another nightmare. Yet one hand unconsciously moved to his heaving chest. Yes, it had only been a dream. Richard sat up, further reassured by the shabby room. Swinging his legs off of the rickety bed, he rose and crossed to the television. In switching it on, Richard dislodged a stack of envelopes.

On a whim, he knelt and began studying the accumulation of mail. Richard now made it a point to sift through the stack every few weeks, after unnoticed utility bills left him without gas and electricity for several days in the dead of winter. Magazine subscription offers, contests and organizational literature ran together until something made him stop. He glared at the all too familiar envelope and discarded it unopened.

“What does mom want now?”

* * *

In Chicago at that same moment, Rachel cast one last glance over her shoulder, reassuring herself that no one had followed her. She quickly slipped through her front door and bolted it. Something on the floor caught one of her high heels and flung her against the carpet.

“Ouch! Let me find some light, before I break my neck!”

Blind man’s bluff ended with her switching on an end table lamp. The weak bulb gashed a dim hole in the middle of the room, forcing darkness against the walls. Rachel did not need light to know that Billie Holiday was waiting on the vintage record player turntable. She strolled over and gingerly switched on friend, soul sister and emotional mediator. Remembering her package, she stooped to retrieve it with her purse and met the sinister gaze of a rag doll.

“I could have mauled myself on that stupid thing! How many times have I told that little imp to keep her...”

Pain tore at Rachel’s insides, as rage and sorrow welled up in a violent tug-of-war.

“That no good bastard! It’s just like that coward to snatch my baby and run off with his tail between his legs!”

Anger gave way and sorrow forced Rachel to her knees. She knelt in silence, watching tears shower the carpet at her knees. As the pain subsided, Rachel became aware that Billie was still with her. She moaned, “I’m getting too old for this. Yes, it’s time to go and see momma gain. She’ll fix everything.”

Rachel picked herself up and carried her packages to the bedroom. She unwrapped the dress, taking a moment to caress the silky fabric. Yes, time would stop when Rachel slipped into this little number. Just imagining all of the jealous faces lifted her spirits. After a train ticket and a present for her mother, this dress had taken her last dollar, but she couldn't go home looking like something the cat dragged in could she?

Besides, the hicks in her hometown looked up to her; lived to see what they could never have or be. Come Sunday morning, she wanted...no, she had to give her mother’s congregation something to remember until the next visit. Oh yeah, she’d knock those old hags flat! Rachel opened her closet door, gazing lovingly at her many hats, shoes, furs, suits, dresses and slacks like Nefertiti surveying her royal treasures. She started to pack, tossing her costly selections into an equally exorbitant suitcase.

A mirror caught Rachel’s eye and she stopped to admire her beauty. A visit back home was just what she needed. She would go home and let those losers feast their eyes on her. Let them put her back up on a pedestal where she belonged. Her smile faded as each step towards the mirror highlighted the weariness, bringing into focus the bags that hung from her tired eyes.

Once again, reality butchered her high spirits and Rachel mourned the passing. How could he? That bastard! She hadn’t even wanted to marry him. Her mother had chosen this one, arguing that he could take care of her and provide a comfortable life. For a while, it really seemed as though it would work. He adored her and gave her everything she asked for.

Rachel stumbled out of the room, possessed by a need to stifle pain before it consumed her. How was she going to explain her predicament to her mother? How could she go slinking back home with her hand out again? She dreaded it, but she had nowhere else to go. She had no job and no prospects. Without her husband to pay the bills, she would lose the house. Rachel sank onto the couch and tore open her purse. Unsteady hands filled the needle and emptied it back into a speckled arm. Rachel closed her eyes and lay back.

Soon, Billie’s voice rose and swirled around the room, twirling about Rachel’s limp body. Rachel opened deluded eyes to a vivid hallucination. She gazed at sleek couples crouched behind their nightclub tables, silently devouring each note captured by their hungry ears. She looked up and there was Lady Day herself, bejeweled, austere, framed by the magic that poured from her shimmering lips. The spell faded as the record ended. Rachel watched the audience dissipate, curling towards the ceiling like so much cigarette smoke. Ms. Holiday gave a royal curtsey and exited through the living room wall.

Rachel closed her heavy lids, listening to the phonograph arm bump along empty record grooves. Then grooves became tracks and rhythm was motion. She was a passenger on a locomotive. Once more, Rachel opened her watery eyes and was amazed at what she saw. She was in a train, seated by a window, surrounded by daisies that sprung up out of the seat cushions. A conductor strolled down the aisle, smiling genially at her.

“Ticket please.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Daddy?”

“Yes baby, I came back for you. I just need your ticket.”

“But daddy, I don't have a ticket.”

“Then you have to go back home.”

“No, take me with you daddy!”

* * *

It was already hot down in Arkansas where Joshua stood staring absentmindedly at his full coffee mug. His tired eyes sought answers which surely lie within and dissipated with the steam that rose from the scalding brew as phantoms fleeing purgatory. Joshua surrendered with a weary sigh, after taking a vindictive sip.

“Needs more sugar.”

He reached across the counter and began transferring huge sums to his coffee, stopping just short of syrup. This having failed to inspire, Joshua wandered back over to the kitchen table and sat in front of his laptop, glowering at the screen. He was having a serious case of writer’s block.

“Aw hell,” he muttered.

Joshua switched off his laptop and reached consolingly for his pack of cigarettes. A coughing jag tormented his lean body, interrupting his lack of concentration.

“These things are gonna kill me.”

As if death were as inconsequential as the stubbing of one’s toe, Joshua shrugged. He picked up a pencil and doodled on a crumpled napkin. His mother wouldn’t be home from the hospital for a few days and he hardly knew what to do with himself. A knock at the door temporarily resolved the dilemma. He went and glanced through the screen. A smile bloomed on Joshua’s face.

“Hey man, what are you doing up this early on a Saturday morning? I thought you’d be under somebody’s porch sleeping off last night.”

“Nah man, when you’re in love, you don’t need sleep!”

“I know what that means. Your old lady must want you to do something,” said Joshua laughingly.

“Well, now that you mention it, I do need to borrow your lawn mower.”

“I knew it! She sure keeps you jumping.”

“Can I come in, or are you gonna leave me standing out here?”

“Well, If you’re waiting for an engraved invitation, then you’re gonna grow old standing out there on the porch!”

Thomas lumbered past Richard grinning and sprawled on the living room couch.

“What you got to eat in this joint?”

“Nothing for you!”

“Aw come on man, I’m starving. What did you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee, cold collard greens and a hot dog.”

Thomas’ masculine face twisted in distaste.

“Now why would anyone willingly eat garbage for breakfast? You don’t have an ulcer, you’ve got heartburn Einstein!”

Joshua laughed appreciatively, more at Thomas than the joke. What was it about this lazy, mischievous, beautifully ugly dude that pleased him so? Thomas was the only person on earth who could make Joshua laugh at himself and the world. But then, it had always been that way. Whenever Joshua started taking things too seriously, felt the tide of his emotions carrying him away, Thomas was there to drag him back to reality sometimes kicking and screaming but always laughing.

“I thought you came to borrow my lawn mower.”

“I did, but I’m still hungry. What you got sweet to eat? Any of your mom’s pie left?”

Thomas followed Joshua into the kitchen, peering over his shoulder when he opened the refrigerator.

“Listen, how’s your mom Josh?”

“Fine, she’ll be home in a few days.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“They’re not sure. They want to run a few more tests and keep her under observation for a while.”

“Oh...hey, isn’t that a slice of pie over behind the peas?”

“It sure is. Here you go.”

Joshua retrieved the dish and handed it to his friend.

“Grab that milk Josh. I can’t eat pie without milk. Hey, tell your mom I hope she’s back on her feet soon.”

Joshua leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Thomas finish off the pie quickly with big bites. He gulped down the rest of the milk and put his dishes in the sink.

“Nine o’clock already! I’ve gotta get going. Is the mower still out in the garage?”

Joshua nodded and watched Thomas move to the back door.

“So, why does her highness want you to mow her lawn? Where are her brothers?”

“Otherwise occupied and she’s having a dinner party tonight.”

“It’s at night? Nobody’s gonna notice her lawn in the dark!”

“Yeah, but you know how she is; gotta have everything just so.”

Joshua shook his head over the invisible leash which seemed to grow shorter everyday. It was times like this which made him thankful that he wasn’t in a “serious” relationship. Joshua sat on the back porch and waited for Thomas to emerge from the detached garage at the other end of the yard.

Come to think of it, he had never been in a steady relationship. Joshua was always much too shy to approach girls in high school and college. Even now, he only went on dates as favors to pals whose girlfriends had homely friends. Besides, the few times he started dating, his mother ran the women off with fire and brimstone lectures about sinful flesh. No one was ever morally wholesome enough for her son. Joshua was lost in thought and did not see Thomas emerge from the garage. His friend’s voice startled him.

“Well, I’m gonna take off. I’ll bring back your mower tomorrow.”

“Huh? Oh alright man, I’ll catch you later.”

Thomas waved and pushed the mower to his car. Joshua watched his friend’s lopsided grin disappear around the side of the house. The sun fell from his mental horizon and an all too familiar pang returned to nudge at his stomach. Joshua knew it would be weeks before he saw or heard from Thomas again. Since meeting Nicole two years ago, she had wormed her way into more and more of his life; consuming his time like a tapeworm. It wouldn’t be long before that woman figured out how to sever all his old ties.

Nicole was a highfalutin’ wannabe who worked hard at forgetting where she had come from. She also didn’t seem to recall scheming her way into the good life, by charming and manipulating the terminal patients she provided care to as a nurse. Somehow, she got many of them to sign over their assets to her. Of course, she and her crowd told a different story. Joshua rubbed his eyes, retrieved a cigarette from behind his left ear and lit it with the lighter he always kept in his pocket. He sighed, thinking about an imminent deadline for his latest article. Time to get busy.

#story storyblogger writer occult stories write paranormal

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plutoandpolaris · 6 years

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Absentia

Guess who took 3 months to finish this fic even though its only part 1 of 3? I did, because I have the work ethic of a piece of lettuce. Granted, this is the longest fic I've ever written, beating out Martyr’s 6,000 words with 7,500. I’m satisfied with the outcome at least.

The morning was brisk and cold, a chill wind seeping through the crack in Jackieboy Man’s window. Curling into a ball, he pulled the covers back over his head. He didn’t want to get up, to face another day acting like he was over it, that everything was fine. The others had accepted the doctor’s death and moved on, but he hadn’t. That’s exactly what Anti wanted them to do and Jackie was not going to give that scumbag the satisfaction.

Eventually, he managed to get up and dressed. It wasn’t in his costume though, he hadn’t worn it since the doctor disappeared. That suit was for a hero, and Jackie hadn’t felt like one since. If he really was one, he reminded himself, Schneeplestien would still be here.

He didn’t even bother to brush his hair, instead opting to shove it all inside a beanie instead. He looked just like how he felt: absolutely fucking awful.

At the very least, the smell of breakfast still lifted his spirits. Marvin had taken the role of head cook of the house and Jackie had to admit, the guy was good. Almost supernaturally good, but that was probably because Marvin used magic in most of his recipes.

The man himself was seated on a stool next to the stove, making sure the pancakes didn’t burn. He didn’t look much better than Jackie. Ever since the doctor’s disappearance, Marvin had been using magic, specifically dark magic, to try and find out more about Anti and his possible weaknesses. They’d all seen him slowly deteriorate the more he used it, but no one could convince him to stop.

JJ was seated nearby at the kitchen table, head buried in the newspaper. He gave Jackie a passing glance but nothing more.

All the talk of Anti recently had him spooked, the others could tell by the way he secluded himself in his room or in the study and refused to come out, even for meals. Seeing him out and about had become a rarity.

“Morning,” Marvin called to Jackieboy, not taking his eyes off of the pancakes.

Jackie took a seat on the couch next to Chase, who was absentmindedly fiddling with the little photos on his keyring.

“What kind of pancakes are those?” Jackie turned back to Marvin, who was transferring them onto a plate.

“Blueberry. I had leftover mix.”

The room quieted again, and Jackie sighed. He didn’t want to bring this up, but it’s the only way he could get Marvin to even talk to him.

“How’s the search? You find anything?”

Marvin put down the plate very slowly, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Nothing of note. It's like Anti’s completely off the map, I can't find anything.”

Marvin sighed, wincing as he carefully lowered himself down off of his stool.

“So what exactly are you even looking for?” Chase turned, tossing his key ring down on the coffee table.

“A name, an age, anything really, but especially weaknesses. I know he has them, and if we know what his weaknesses are, then we’ll be one step closer to killing him once and for all.

He took a bite of his pancakes.

“However, he's covered his tracks very well. I've searched hundreds of ancient books, I've scoured alternate dimensions for fucks sake, but there's nothing to find. It's ridiculous.”

The more Jackie studied Marvin’s face the worse it looked. His skin was pale, so much so you could see the veins weaving their their way under his skin like fissures in a broken mirror. His eyes were sunken and pale, the bright cerulean faded into a stormy gray. Bloodied bandages covered his arms and hands, evidence of hundreds of spells gone wrong, but they were no closer to finding anything about Anti. It was like a sick joke.

“I am going to find him, and when I do, I am going to rip him limb from limb myself,” Marvin threatened, voice low and angry. Small flickers of light danced between his fingertips, gone as soon as they’d appeared.

Marvin could be absolutely terrifying when he wanted to be, but Jackie and Chase had been more worried than anything else. One of the biggest symptoms of black magic is a condition known as Night Sickness, an affliction that can kill if left unmonitored, one of the biggest early symptoms being sudden aggression and exhaustion.

“Uh, Marv? Have you taken your meds today?” Chase asked, slightly inching away to the other side of the couch.

The only cure for Night Sickness is pure silver, and Marvin had developed a topical medicine made from it that could keep the illness at bay.

Only problem was that Marvin often forgot to take it, and when that happened, things could get ugly. He’d almost killed Chase the last time by telekinetically throwing him through a window.

“Yes, I've taken them.”

The room got uncomfortably silent again, the cold from the open window chilling Jackie to the bone even though his jacket. Marvin finished his pancakes, placing the plastic plate in the dishwasher.

“There’s more on the stove if anyone wants any,” he said, ducking back out of the room.

Then, Jackie was alone with Chase. They didn’t speak, letting the room fill back up with the cold and empty silence that had occupied their apartment for months now. Jackie felt for Chase. While Mavin stayed in his room and searched for Anti’s possible weaknesses, Jackieboy Man was out in the town, surveying, looking for the man himself. Chase was often left alone with JJ for long stretches of time, with nothing to do but watch TV and try distract himself from how lonely the apartment had become.

Jackie hated to do it, but leaving everyday was necessary. The city still needed their hero, even when he sometimes needed one of his own. Life didn’t stop just because Schneep disappeared. They had to keep going, even when there didn’t seem to be a point anymore.

He stood from the couch, adjusting his jacket and pulling a scarf from the hatrack. The morning was brisk, he would need it.

“You’re not even going to eat anything?” Chase asked, his voice laced with that familiar parental concern that sent a pang through Jackie’s heart.

Jackie laughed, the sound strange and foreign in the empty living room. “What, are you my mom now?” Chase joined him soon after, the action familiar and comforting if not bittersweet.

Then Chase’s face fell, the room returning back to the somber atmosphere that had choked it for the past six months. The moment had passed.

“Well, be careful, anyway.”

Chase didn’t say it, but Jackie could hear the undertone in his voice.

I can’t lose you too.

The two locked eyes for a moment before Chase turned away, sinking back into the couch. It was clear that the conversation was over.

Jackie turned and pulled open the door, the winter air hitting his face full force. It stung, sucking the oxygen out of his lungs like a high power vacuum. Yet, it was also refreshing, a much needed shock to the system.

The morning was strangely silent, not a single soul out on the street. A soft blanket of snow covered the road and surrounding yards, the salt trucks hadn’t reached this small corner of town yet. It was a rare moment of peace in a world of constant noise and danger. Jackie made sure to appreciate it while it lasted.

He didn’t run into a single other person on his way to the lookout point, which became more and more strange the longer he walked. It was like everyone was hiding, the world collectively holding its breath for something. Jackie didn’t like it, not one bit. The silence, while relaxing at first, now unnerved him too much for him to enjoy it. His shoulders tensed, hand tightening on the brass knuckles in his hoodie pocket.

Then, it happened. Like the crack of a gunshot, a shrill scream filled the silence. All of Jackie’s muscles tensed as he burst forward in full sprint, following the sound to an empty street a few blocks away. Blood roared in his ears, panic coursing through his veins like a second skin.

Lying in the snow was the mangled corpse, a steak knife sticking out of its forehead. Blood stained the snow in a full circle from the figure’s head like a crimson flower in full bloom. Standing over the body was another person in a heavy black overcoat.

Jackie skidded to a stop, pulling out the brass knuckles from his pocket. Then, the figure in black looked up

It was Anti.

Jackieboy Man nearly screamed, but he swallowed it. The last thing he needed was to show weakness in this situation, especially since there was no one else around. Anti had made sure of that. If the demon overpowered him, there would be no witnesses.

“I knew that would get your attention.”

Jackie stood in complete silence, trying in vain to calm himself down. After a few deep breaths he managed to speak.

“Who was this? Wh-who did you just kill?”

Anti laughed, retrieving the steak knife and cleaning it on his jeans before returning it to the sheath at his hip. His eyes were cruel, filled with a twisted kind of joy that made Jackie sick. This was a game to him, human lives had no more value than the dirty snow stuck to the bottom of his boots.

“I don’t know, just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I knew it would be the best way to get your attention. Besides, I’m getting restless. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually killed anyone. ” Anti smiled, the movement unnatural and jolty, like he knew that smiling was something humans did but didn’t know why.

It was at moments like these when Anti’s true nature was apparent: an inhuman monster, wearing Jack’s face like a skin suit.

Anger flushed behind Jackie’s skin, flooding the fear out of his system and replacing it with such a visceral rage that it was almost physically painful. This creature had tormented them for almost two years. He was responsible for so much pain and suffering and heartbreak yet it meant nothing to him. Jackie preferred to finish conflicts with as few casualties as possible, but if there was anyone he wouldn't have a problem getting rid of it would definitely be Anti. He’d never felt a stronger urge to beat someone’s head into a bloody pulp then he did at that moment.

Anti, however, found Jackie’s anger as passively amusing as he did everything else.

“You’ve killed Jack. Twice.” Jackie’s fist was so tight on the brass knuckles that it almost hurt. “You killed Henrik.”

Then Anti laughed, an ear splitting sound that cut through the cold winter’s air like, ironically, a knife through flesh. It was a horrible, joyless sound, but the fact that Anti found this funny only pissed Jackie off more.

“You really think Schneeplestien is dead, do you? Why would I go through all of the trouble driving the man insane and making him into a puppet to do my bidding if I was just going to off him later? Oh, he’s alive alright. Not that it means anything to you. You’ll never find him anyway.”

That was when Jackie snapped, surging forward in a burst of rage, tackling Anti head on. The two went flying into a nearby snowdrift, Jackieboy rearing back to punch him directly in the bridge of his nose. He felt the metal of the brass knuckles break the bone, leaving Anti with a nasty bloody nose. Yet, even with the extra strength Jackie had gained from his months of excessive training, almost to the point of obsession, the demon was still much, much stronger than him. A well placed kick to the chest sent him flying away from Anti, hitting a nearby wall and crumbling into the snow.

Everything hurt. The kick in the ribs might have even broken them, but Jackie couldn’t be sure. All of the air had been forcefully ejected from his lungs upon impact with the wall. Half of him wanted to continue laying there, hoping and praying that Anti would lose interest. However, it was the other side of him that won, the side that would stop at nothing to make Anti pay for what he had done. He pulled himself to his feet, wiping the blood from the scrapes his fall had caused.

Anti was, of course, waiting for him. Though he was starting to bruise from the encounter, otherwise he looked completely fine. He had already wiped the blood away, leaving a red streak across his face.

“Is that really all the fight you have? Awfully disappointing, I expected better.”

Jackie steadied himself, taking in a breath, but by the time he looked back up again Anti was standing on the steel balcony of one of the warehouses.

“See if you can catch me, little hero.”

Jackie sprinted to the base of the building, muscles still screaming from the effort. There didn’t seem to be any viable ways to get up to the balcony, let alone before Anti decided to teleport somewhere else.

“What, you’re just going to run like a coward?!” Jackie called up to him, feeling his anger once again wash the apprehension from his system. Anti wasn’t going to get away, not this time.

The smile on Anti’s face dissipated, his eyes cold and listless. When he spoke, his voice was no longer modulated and scratchy as was his signature. Instead it was loud and booming yet clear, a menacing echo that sunk into his very bones.

“If you ever want to see the good doctor again, then I’d hurry up if I were you.”

Then he was gone. He reappeared at the top of the building, obviously losing patience.

Jackie kept up to the nearest ledge, barely managing to grip it in his hands. Scaling a building was not the smartest thing to be attempting after being kicked in the ribs, but that didn’t matter. Schneeplestien was alive. Jackie didn’t care if it killed him, he was going to chase Anti down. Failure was no longer an option.

By the time he had grappled his way to the top of the building using a series of small ledges and steel balconies, Anti was in a dead sprint across the flat roof of the warehouse. Jackie pushed after him, always coming so close and yet just out of reach. Anti was taunting him, that much was certain. He just needed something that could slow the demon down.

Jackieboy Man reached down to his waist, hoping and praying that he had remembered to take his utility belt with him. Fortunately enough it was there, albeit horribly understocked. He had a few meters of rope, a gun with a single tranquilizer dart in it, his grappling hook and several small throwing knives. He was so busy moping this morning that he had forgotten to restock.

As much as he wanted to kick himself for making such a stupid mistake, there wasn't any time. He weighed his options.

The tranquilizer was mostly useless, because even if he managed to hit Anti, it was unlikely that a tranquilizer made for humans would be effective on a demon. There were no taller buildings to use the grappling hook on and the rope didn’t have much of a use either. That left the throwing knives. As well as being the only possibly lethal weapon he regularly carried, they were also the only ranged option he had left. For once, he wished he would have grabbed one of Chase’s pistols.

Or, more truthfully, he wished Chase was here himself. The man was actually quite the sharpshooter, and if anyone could hit a moving target, especially one that could teleport, Chase would be it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Jackie was going to have to do this himself.

He pulled one of the knives from his belt, trying to remember the correct way to hold them. Anti was getting dangerously close to the end of the roof, so he had to be quick.

Though Jackie was in a hurry and his throw was sloppy in its execution, the blade still sailed true, hitting Anti square in the back of the neck. Unfortunately though, that didn’t even slow him down. He treated it like nothing but a minor annoyance, turing on his heel and throwing it back.

“Knives are my thing, get your own trademark.”

Whatever skill Jackie had with knives, Anti obviously outmatched him, and by a long shot. The knife flew at an arc, heading straight for the hero’s forehead. He managed to jump out of the way, but the blade still nicked his ear and the side of his head. The wound burned, but Jackie had other things to worry about.

Anti had reached the end of the warehouse roof and instead of jumping, he simply teleported to the roof directly adjacent. Jackie would have to jump. He had lept larger distances than this but considering the fact that he was injured and chasing a knife throwing maniac, he didn’t like his chances. If Anti decided to throw another knife while he was in midair, he wasn't sure he could dodge it.

However, there weren’t any other options. If he could have used his grappling hook he would’ve, but there wasn’t anything for it to latch on to.

By dumb luck or fate, Jackie stuck the landing relatively unharmed, yet Anti was nowhere to be seen. The warehouse roof was completely empty. He paused, lowering his knife in confusion.

Big mistake.

As soon as his guard was down Anti struck, appearing out of thin air to jump tackle him to the ground. The sharp edges of the rusted railing hit him square in the temple, ripping the skin from his temple to his cheek wide open.

His head was still hanging off of the roof, Anti pinning his arms to the ground.

“Did I scare you?”

Jackie didn't answer, struggling against the demon’s steel grip. Blood from his cut was dripping into his eyes, the cold wind whipping up snow and debris around them. He could hear Anti’s haggard breathing, his eyes wide with disgusting amounts of glee at Jackie’s compromised position. One strong push and he’d be in a 30 foot free fall onto the pavement below.

“I could shove you off right now, little hero. Watch you break all of your pretty little bones on the concrete. But that would be cheating, wouldn't it, letting gravity do my job for me. No, I'd much rather your death be as personal and agonizingly painful as possible. Falling is too good for you.”

“You know what’s cheating, Anti?”

“What?”

Jackie took Anti’s split second confusion as an opening, kneeing him in the stomach. His grip on Jackie’s arms loosened slightly, and the hero took this opportunity to plunge one of his throwing knives straight into Anti’s left eye.

The demon screeched in pain, falling backwards and clawing at the blade protruding from his eye socket. Demon or no, getting stabbed in the eye fucking hurts.

“That, was cheating.”

Jackie jumped to his feat, wiping the blood from his face. Anti had ripped the knife from his eye, tossing it off of the warehouse and onto the street below. Blood gushed from his wound, dripping down his face and neck. Anti wasn't in pain anymore, he was pissed.

“Ỹ̵̢̝̣̫͇̝̪̮̝̄̆͋͌͌̍̑̍̕o̦̘͍̱͉͙̎̆̇͛̾̐û͖̞̟̬̪̟̳̞͌̎͌̑̋̏̓̕͜͞ l̢͍̠͉͖̰̱̻̈́̂̆̆͘͝͡í̡̹͙̘̤̼̘̤̥̑̄̋̽͊̀̄t̖̙̯̪̉̈́͐̎̎́̽͘͢͜͠͝ͅͅt̗̗̤̟̜̜̻͓͆͊̄̆̕l̸̹̤͈̤̯̬̼͚̳͋̊͌́̏̈e̶̘͕̖͍͍̭̝̼̥͗̐̔͗̅̏̆͡͡ f̫̦̱̭̦͇͕̃̍̄̒͒̓͛̎̆ù̵̮͕̙͙̖̰̹̰̿͌͑̈́̓̌̕͢͞͠c̖͓̱̯̳̫͍̥̹̲̍̽̈́͒͒̒̃͞͡k̵̡̺̙̙̮̱̏͂̈́̏̂͂͟ḙ̵͙̗͙̯͔̔͆͆̑̑͐̕͢͠r̸͍̱͔̘̦̺̦͚̘̀̉̄̓͡͠!̨̬̞̫̘̪͚̻̈̽͘͝͡” . Anti lunged at him, Jackie barely managing to leap out of the way. The two continued on that way, Jackieboy leaping and dodging Anti’s continually more erratic attacks. His chest was burning where Anti had kicked him, every breath painful, his sight constantly compromised by the gash in his temple. The only thing that was currently saving him was the fact that Anti had temporarily lost his depth perception. He continually stayed in the demon’s blindspot, frustrating Anti to no end.

However, Anti had nearly endless endurance, and Jackie did not. While the demon had barely broken a sweat during the encounter, Jackie was about to collapse from a mixture of injury and human weakness. Anti managed to catch him from the side, grabbing him by the neck and flinging him across the warehouse roof.

Jackie hit the ground on his shoulder, hard, skidding to a stop only because the protective hand rails stopped him from rolling to his death. Anti, even compromised, had won.

Then a gunshot went off.

Anti grabbed at the back of his neck, letting out the most horrifying scream Jackie had ever heard, he could have sworn his ears were starting to bleed from the pure intensity. When the demon turned, Jackieboy Man could see the bullet hole in the back of his neck, blackish burn marks spreading from the entry wound and letting off an awful looking black smoke.

Standing at the opposite end of the roof was Chase, pistol in hand.

“Chase!’ Jackie managed to croak out, trying to lift his head and immediately regretting it. The shockwave of pain nearly made him pass out.

“Get the fuck away from him!”

Anti didn’t stop to gloat, pulling out both of his steak knives and charging Chase at full speed. Chase lunged sideways, narrowly avoiding the demon’s blades while getting off two more shots on his shoulder and collarbone. For once the attacks were actually hurting him. Though Jackie thought he would like to see the Anti in pain, it was actually very uncomfortable, like watching a wounded animal bleed out right in front of you. Anti, though, wasn’t down just yet. He discarded his blades, instead opting to shove Chase sideways into the railing. The sheer force caused the rusted structure to buckle, sending Chase flying off of the edge of the building.

Jackie couldn’t even scream out for him, he didn’t have the strength to. Time seemed to slow down as he waited for the sickening sound of Chase hitting the pavement below.

But it never came.

Suddenly, Chase began to float back up towards the building as if suspended from an invisible hand. Anti turned wildly, looking for the source of the miracle, but Jackie already knew who it was. Marvin. That or he had lost so much blood that he was starting to hallucinate, but he hoped that wasn’t the case.

Chase was dropped gingerly back on the roof, so bewildered that he couldn’t even move.

Anti, however, wasn’t faring as well. His teleporting ability was going haywire, sending him into several places at once as the blackened burns spread across his skin. Eventually he glitched out of existence and didn’t reappear.

It was only then that Marvin came out of hiding, limping from out behind a few old metal crates where he had been hiding. He looked like he might drop dead at any moment, but at least he was alive for now. Chase snapped out of his stupor and went running to Jackie’s side, dragging him away from the edge of the building.

“Holy shit dude what happened?!”

Jackie once again attempted to sit up, but was unable to. He instead opted to lay back, willing his headache to subside.

“What do you think? Anti kicked my ass.”

The two laughed, although nervously. Anti had gone, but they had no idea if he might reappear.

Getting out of there as fast as possible was top priority.

Chase ran a hand through his hair, looking back at Marvin for advice. The magician wasn’t doing all that well either. He was clinging to the warehouse railing for dear life, looking like he might pass out at any moment. Chase rushed to him, gripping him by the shoulders.

“Marv, you okay buddy? Marv?!”

Marvin collapsed in Chase’s arms, nearly hitting his head on the rail in the process.

“What’s wrong with him?!” Jackie said, managing to sit up successfully this time. Marvin was cradled in Chase’s lap, alive but seemingly unconscious.

“He probably used too much magic at once. Not only did he manage to teleport us up here, he also force levitated me over a 30 foot free fall, all of that on top of being weakened from all the necromancy he’s been doing recently. I’m surprised he didn’t pass out earlier.” Chase slowly set Marvin down on the ground, patting his own back pockets.“Oh fuck, I must have dropped my gun when Anti pushed me off of the building! That thing had at least three more silver bullets still in it!”

Silver bullets? Jackie knew that pure silver helped cure Night Sickness but he had no idea it hurt demons as well.

“Two questions: One, where are you getting all of this silver from, and two, why didn’t you tell me silver hurts demons?! That would have been useful information to know.”

Chase’s face softened a little.

“I didn't even know about it until today. Marvin got one of those random future visions he sometimes gets, warning us you were in danger, and told me that he might have one idea what Anti’s weakness might be. He figured that since silver dispels demonic magic and cures Night Sickness, it might hurt demons directly as well.”

“Wait, so that means you didn't even know if the bullets would work?”

Chase shook his head.

“No. Marvin wanted to test if it would work on a weaker demon first but there wasn't any time.

Also to answer the first question, Marvin gets it from the Host. That guy has a shit ton of random odds and ends, he makes his own synthetic silver with the same properties as the real deal, which allows it to still burn demons. Only problem is that it takes forever to make and there's a limited supply of it.”

When had Marvin gotten the time to go off and see Host during all of this bullshit? Jackie wasn’t sure, but he made a mental note to thank Host next time he saw him. Without those silver bullets, he might not have even been alive right then.

The three sat in silence for awhile until another question dawned on them: how in the hell were they going to get down off the warehouse? Jackie desperately needed a hospital, and there was no way he could explain to a normal doctor that he’d hurt his ribs and possibly his shoulder chasing down a demon. Schneep had always taken care of situations like this, but without him they were on their own. Chase seemed to realize this as well.

“Since we can’t take you to Schneep since he’s...you know, I might have to call in a favor Bing owes me.”

Chase reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, an old model built like a brick. Since Anti manipulates technology, he had opted for the least technologically advanced thing possible.

The phone rang twice before Bing picked up.

“Chase, bro, that you?”

“Yeah, its me. You remember that favor you owe me?”

The phone went quiet for a second.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I’m calling it in now. We’re in trouble and need some help. Jackie, Marvin and I are stuck on the top of a warehouse, Jackie is injured and Marvin’s unconscious.”

“Shit dude, you still have that watch I gave you, the one with the coordinates?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, I’ll be there in a second.”

He was quite literally there in a second. Only a few moments after the call ended he materialized next to Chase, like he’d been there the whole time.

Jackie thought he was seeing things again.

“How the hell did he-?!”

Bing adjusted his glasses and shuddered as he did so, clearly receiving system shock from the sudden change in temperature.

“Dark put the mansion in a separate plane of existence, so I can pretty much teleport anywhere from there if I have specific enough coordinates. That’s why I gave Chase that watch, it gives me his exact coordinates so I know where he is if something...happens.”

It was only then that Jackie noticed the watch Chase was wearing. Jackie had never really noticed it before.

“Can you phone Dr. Iplier for us? Anti fucked Jackie up pretty badly.”

Bing nodded, pressing a button on the inside of his wrist.After a few moments a voice spoke, coming from the small speaker at the base of Bing’s neck.

“You have reached Ego Inc. This is Google Blue. Who is calling?”

“Oh for fucks sake Google, cut the shit. I need Dr. Iplier, ASAP.”

“Oh, you haven't heard? Dark is screening all calls to and from the mansion, which means every incoming call has to come through me first. But you wouldn't know that, because you never show up to any of the meetings.”

Chase could see Bing’s obvious agitation in the look on his face.

“That's because I’m never invited to any of them, Google. You know this.”

“I wonder why.”

The snow was coming down faster now, falling and melting into steam upon contact with Bing’s warm skin. He literally looked like he was about to burst into flames, and at his point Chase wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Get Dr. Iplier on the line now, Google. This is an emergency.”

“Fine. But be warned, Dark’s still keeping tabs on you after that other stunt you pulled. I’d tread lightly unless you want your motherboard crushed under his boot heel.”

Google passed the line over before Bing could retort. A few seconds later, Dr. Iplier spoke.

“Hello, Dr. Iplier speaking.”

“Yeah, Doctor? I have some of Jack’s egos up here. One’s unconscious and the other’s really injured, they need help.”

“What happened?”

Chase sighed, shifting Marvin into a half sitting position against the rail.

“What do you think?”

The line went silent for a moment.

“Alright. Hold on a second.”

There were sounds of papers shuffling and another phone ringing in the background. The voice that came out of the receiver was the absolute last one any of them wanted to hear at a time like this.

“What is it, Doctor? You know I don’t like being interrupted during working hours.”

“Yes, Dark, I know, but this is a matter of emergency. I have two patients I need admitted. As per the new regulations, I’m running it by you first.”

“By the way you made sure not to say any of these “patients” names, I’m assuming they’re Sean’s wards?”

“Yes.”

“Pity, I would've thought Anti had gotten rid of them by now. Regardless, you have until tomorrow morning, 6am sharp. If they aren’t gone by then I’ll dispose of them myself.”

Dark hung up.

It was a few more moments before Dr. Iplier spoke again.

“Ok, I’ll be waiting outside the side entrance. Bring them by there, its a faster route to the clinic.”

Then the line went dead. Bing’s eyes returned to their normal shade, and he turned to face the others again.

“I’ll get Jackie and you can have Marvin. Don’t worry, it’s not a long walk.”

Bing reached down and gingerly took Jackie in his arms, careful not to irritate the shoulder. In any other circumstances it would have been slightly awkward, but considering how freezing cold and exhausted Jackie was, he didn’t mind. The constant heat Bing radiated was a welcome side effect.

Chase did his best to pick up Marvin, but it was no easy task. The magician was much heavier than he looked. Eventually though, Chase managed to grapple him into halfway comfortable position with one arm under his neck and the other in the crook of his knees.

“Hold on to me, this might feel kinda weird for a minute.”

Chase made his way over to Bing, looping their arms together. The world around them started to fade and warp like a melting watercolor painting, giving Chase intense vertigo. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the feeling to subside. When it did, even he wasn’t ready for what awaited him on the other side.

Chase had only been to the Ego mansion once, and it had been quite some time since. While it didn’t look different necessarily, he had completely forgotten how imposing it was. With all of its many balconies and absolutely insane number of windows, it almost looked like a monster ready to swallow you whole. The last thing he wanted to do was go in, but that was where help for his friends was. There wasn’t any choice.

Bing was already making his way around the edge of the lawn, towards an out of the way door on the side of the west wing. Chase followed him best he could, but his arms were already screaming from carrying Marvin. Another reminder of his waning shape no doubt.

Dr. Iplier was waiting by the door, just as he’d promised.

The doctor looked absolutely exhausted, but he was obviously trying not to show it. He beckoned them through the side door, which led directly into the back of the inhouse clinic.

The room was extremely bright and clean, every single inch gleaming white. It was unnaturally neat as well, looking a bit more like a padded cell than anything else. The doctor’s desk was the only thing not tidied up, covered in papers, books, and several empty coffee mugs. One of the beds in the back of the room was occupied, but the figure was turned away from them and was thus unidentifiable.

Dr. Iplier led them to beds adjacent from the occupied one, instructing Chase to lay Marvin down.

“I suspect his issue is more magical and less biological, so I can’t do much in that department. Host may be able to help you though, he knows a little bit about everything.”

He reached over behind his desk, pulling out a small rotary phone.

“Even Google can't monitor these, the technology is too outdated. Technically I'm not even supposed to have it, but Dark doesn't have to know that.”

The group waited while the doctor dialed a number. It rang once before someone picked up.

“Host, I need you in the clinic. There’s someone down here that could use your brand of expertise. Make sure you aren't followed.”

He hung up before Host could answer, shoving the old phone back behind stacks of paperwork and old equipment. Then he turned to Jackie, still cradled in Bing’s arms.

“While we wait for him, I think we need to get you bandaged up.”

Bing laid Jackie down on another of the beds, propping him up on a stack of pillows while Dr.Iplier rummaged through his medicine cabinet.

He came back with a 16 oz bottle of rubbing alcohol and a roll of gauze bandages.

Now that the adrenaline of the encounter had worn off, Jackie began to realize just how injured he actually was. Every single bone felt like it had snapped in half, even breathing was difficult. The entire left half of his face was caked in blood from the gash on his temple.

Dr.Iplier wiped down the wound with rubbing alcohol before wrapping it, cleaning off the rest of the blood with a warm washrag. Meanwhile, Chase and Bing sat in the corner on folding chairs, waiting for Host to arrive. He didn’t take long, knocking on the door right as Dr. Iplier finished dressing Jackie’s wound.

Bing let him in, and even without being told, he seemed to know exactly what was needed of him. That was one of the many things that creeped Jackie out about the Host, the way he always seemed to know things without being told, and how he navigated the world as if he was watching it from the third person. Yet, after learning what Host had done for them, Jackie appreciated him that much more.

Host made his way over to Marvin, removing his mask and laying a hand on his forehead. For a long few seconds, nothing happened. Then he spoke.

“Marvin has severely overworked himself. His immune system is weakened from the necromancy he’s been using, an endeavor that the Host strongly warned him against pursuing. He will be in a sleep like coma state for at least a week, possibly more depending on the severity of the damage. The only thing that can be done is allow his body to heal on its own, but I caution you to make sure he does not use magic at all in the following two weeks from his awakening. It might send him into an even deeper coma, one he may never wake up from.”

Host turned away from Marvin, attempting to adjust his bandages only for them to fall even deeper down onto his nose. They were so soggy they seemed like they might literally dissolve. The others could hear him narrating his frustrations under his breath, wiping his blood stained hands on the hem of his coat.

“Host, when was the last time you had me change your bandages? You were supposed to come in yesterday. And the day before that,” The doctor asked him, sending a pointed glare over his shoulder.

“The Host chooses not to answer that question.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Dr.Iplier set down the bandages, making his way over to Host and pulling him behind one of the medical curtains by the hem of his coat sleeves.

“How many times have I told you to let me change these at least once a day? Do you want an infection? Do you want to get some nasty virus and be bedridden for weeks like last year? Hold still-”

After a few minutes of Host grumbling his complaints from behind the curtain the two emerged, the doctor with blood covered gloves and the Host looking cleaner, at the very least. His bandages were changed and his face washed, although he didn’t necessarily look happy about it.

“Alright.” Dr. Iplier removed his gloves and pitched them into a nearby trash can. “What else is wrong with you?”

Jackie was taken back to the problem at hand: the fact that his ribs could very well be broken.

“Anti kicked me in the ribs. I don’t know if they’re broken or bruised or what but they hurt like hell.”

And hurt they did. He didn’t feel like any were broken but they were definitely bruised at the very least. How he managed to scale a building like this was a mystery even to himself, but he chalked it up to adrenaline.

“That’s going to require an X-ray to know for sure what is wrong with them. The ribs are surprisingly fragile, people can bruise them from coughing too hard. If a demon kicked you there, It’ll be a miracle if they aren’t broken. Hold still for a minute.”

Dr. Iplier laid Jackie down flat on the bed, feeling around his ribcage for cracks. The more he did, the more confused he became.

“Either Anti was really going easy on you or you have magic bones, because I don’t feel any cracks. They’re probably bruised, but I’ll do an X-ray just to be sure. Still, considering who you went up against, I’m very surprised you aren’t in worse shape.”

“Anti clearly wasn’t interested in killing you,” Host said, adjusting the new clean bandages. “If he was, you wouldn’t be here right now. He’s playing the long game, this encounter was clearly meant to taunt you.”

Taunt you. Jackie had had enough of that lately. Still, he had nearly died fighting an Anti that wasn’t even trying. What was he going to do when the demon actually had a mind to kill him?

Dr. Iplier looked him over. “Do you have any metal on you? It’ll mess with the X-ray if you do.”

It was then that Jackie remembered he still had his utility belt on. He removed it, as well as the brass knuckles from his pocket, though it felt strange to be without them. The doctor rolled his bed into a seperate room, closing the door behind them.

Silence.

Extremely awkward, suffocating silence, the kind where you’d do anything to fill it but there’s nothing to be said. Bing and Chase sat side by side with the Host guarded the door. While Chase could hear footsteps and ringing phones upstairs, albeit faintly, it still felt like the doctor’s clinic was in a different world, kept separate from everything else. It was there, in that silence, that Chase began to cry.

Bing grabbed Chase’s shoulder. “Dude, what’s wrong?!”

“I- I fucking shot him! I shot Anti.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Chase curled in on himself, face buried in his knees.

“No! Yes? Maybe! I don’t know! All I do know is that he’s going to be fucking pissed at me when he gets back.”

“Then just shoot him again! Shoot him until he fucking dies already!”

“That’s not how it works, Bing.” Chase lifted his head, wiping away his tears and staring hollowly at the white tile at his feet. “We’re all fucking doomed. No matter what we do, he’ll just keep coming back, over and over until we’re all dead.”

Host rose from his seat.

“You’re still alive now, aren’t you? As long as that fact remains, all is not lost. Demons are strong and formidable, yes, but they are not gods. They have weaknesses just as humans do.”

“Really?” Chase looked up at him, disbelief in his tone. If Anti really did have a weakness, they probably would have found it by now. “What’s Anti’s then? Besides silver, I mean.”

“The Host suspects that it is his own ego, forgive the pun. He believes that he is god, untouchable by man, when in fact he can be struck down like anyone else. He is reckless.”

Host’s words hung heavy in the air for a moment. They held power, power that Chase had not felt in a very long time. Never had he dared to dream that Anti could be beaten, that there was a life beyond the nightmare they’d been living. Bing had quieted, eyes trained on the sleeping figure in the one occupied bed.

“Then maybe we can rid ourselves of our own demon too.”

Host laid a hand on Bing’s shoulder. “We can only hope.”

A few more minutes passed before Jackie was done with his X-ray, and by that time the porch lights of the mansion had begun to dim. The harsh white of the clinic was also starting to give Chase a headache, so he was happy to see a friendly face. Jackie was in a hospital gown with his arm in a sling, clothes folded at the edge of his bed.

“He’s all patched up. The ribs were bruised, but as long as he stays in bed and rests them they should be healed in two to three weeks. Painkillers and an ice pack should help, but I’d recommend sleeping upright for a few days. The shoulder will take longer, possibly six to eight weeks for it to return to the strength it once was. You can stay the night here if you wish, I’ve got some extra beds.”

The doctor rolled the bed back into place. “And for christs sake, don’t try to go off superheroing before you’re healed. Ever since Schneeplestein disappeared it’s like you all have a deathwish.”

Schneeplestein. Jackie jolted to attention, remembering what Anti had told him.

“Guys, I have something to tell you. Schneep’s alive. Anti told me so. Says he’s hidden where we’ll never find him.”

“He’s what?!”

“Alive! Somewhere! We’ve got to find him, who knows what Anti’s done to him since August.”

Dr. Iplier cast a stern look over his shoulder. “Not like that you aren’t.”

“Schneep could be fucking dying!”

“And you will be too if you go out there like that!”

The Host sighed like Dr.Iplier had had this argument with many many other patients before.

“Patience. I trust in Henrik’s resilience. If he’s lasted six months, he can last two more weeks. You will need your strength, especially if Anti is hiding him where I think he is.”

That got the group's attention.

“Where?’

“Most likely it’s in a pocket dimension much like the one you’re in right now. A place outside of time, where two days can feel like two years. Demons are the masters of this art, creating timelines and destroying them on a whim. Spending six months in one, like how your friend has, could feel like decades depending on how the dimension was made. Though you should not attempt to enter one until you are well, the Host implores you to hurry. That much time in a demonic loop is more than enough to contract night sickness.”

“Then what the hell do we do until then? How to we even find it? How-”

The Host cut Jackie off.

“Right now, you get some sleep.

If you’re to survive the trials to come, you’ll need it.”

And there it is. There are (hopefully) going to be two more parts to this, so I really do hope you all enjoyed it.

(tagging some peeps who might enjoy this.)

@lum1natrix @hufflepufftrax @fear-is-nameless @septic-dr-schneep @mysteriousdogduo

#Jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction #septicegos #pluto's writings

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askdawnandvern · 6 years

Text

A Lamb Among Wolves Ch:43

Sorry this one was a little late, needed some last minute revisions that held up the release again. Not as many as last time, I just got the notes back later from my backers because I finished it late as it was already. But I didn't want to release something subpar. So once again, I apologize for the wait. And without further ado, here is the true, act three closer... Please consider tippin' me. https://www.patreon.com/wastedtimeee -WT

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Chapter Forty-Three: Forgotten Memories

Vernon opened his bleary eyes, blinking numbly as a soft chill ran through his fur. It was dark, the pale yellow glow of iridescent lighting barely illuminated the old oaken porch as the wolf's eyes adjusted. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had Dawn had been camped out on the porch, lost in a haze of the drowsy, sluggish feeling that now racked his frame. Surely he had nodded off, and judging by just how dark the meadow beyond the porch had grown, enough time had passed to obscure the moonlight from touching the area beyond the shadow of the porch. Perhaps it was simple clouds, or worse yet, the wolf's unintentional nap had allowed a majority of the night to drift by without him noticing. Hiding the glow of the moon far on the other end of the house, and leaving the area shrouded and dark.

Another chilly breeze ruffled through his fur, the scent of winter blustering in on its heel as the wolf shuddered. Subconsciously, the wolf tightened his grip around the ewe he had been holding against his body. But as what he thought was Dawn's frame completely collapsed into his grip, the wolf quickly snapped awake. Looking at his paws, the wolf found nothing more than one of his mother's old guest quilts, something he was certain had been passed to the family by a friendly caprid neighbor. The wide red and yellow stitching and fluffy woolen strands were only vaguely similar to his mates in appearance, and held some semblance of warmth. But lacked the plush, comforting heat that only Dawn seemed to carry when he held her close. The surprise swap had set the wolf's ears at attention. He couldn't quite remember when he had dragged out a quilt for the pair, but more pressingly, Dawn was no longer curled up next to him.

Tossing the blanket aside, the wolf scanned the porch swing for any trace of the ewe. But even in the dim lighting he could easily tell she was missing. Aside from the quilt, there wasn't a scrap of wool for as far as he could trace the lighting. From corner to corner the small boxed in porch was empty save for himself, which only only lead the wolf to surmise that for whatever reason Dawn had slipped back into the Hunter Ranch without him.

The wolf's legs felt like jelly as he tried to rise to his feet, most likely a result of the odd position he had dozed off in. They had grown so numb that the wolf stumbled as the swing moved under his weight, and if Vernon hadn't managed to catch one of the posts holding up the netted enclosure with a paw, he most likely would have collapsed directly onto his snout.

Vernon let out a tired snort, rubbing his eyes blearily as they fell on the meadow beyond the screen. Nothing but shapeless forms in the cold, dark night. The sound of dwindling crickets and the weak trickle of the nearby stream were all that seemed to lie beyond the pale. But as Vernon prepared to turn to the house and begin his search for the ewe indoors, his eyes caught a flicker of something in the dark. A shimmer of weak moonlight across something in the distance that grabbed the wolf's attention immediately. Vernon pressed his muzzle against the mesh screen of the porch as hard as he could, squinting his eyes as he struggled to discern the source of the glimmer from the vague shapes out in the dark. Holding a paw over his eyes in an effort to block out the remaining light in an effort to draw his slumbering night eyes to the surface after the light had chased them away. For a few moments, the meadow remained vague and formless, his mind filling in the gaps of where the river and hills were based on his memories of the sight in the day. But slowly he began to actually see the hint of the rocks and trees, the shimmering of the water as the stream broke among various stones on its trip by the property. The weak flickers were almost enough to allow the wolf to simply write off what he had seen as merely that. But as his eyes continued to adjust he saw yet another quick flash of that broad shine, the light dancing over the shape of a glasses lens as it stared back at him from the dark.

The form was small and dark, but unmistakable. Dawn was standing out there. Alone. In the dark. Simply staring back at him. She couldn't have been more than twenty feet or so away, just shy of the stream. And while he couldn't make out the ewe's features in the dark, he could only assume she must have been in distress. At the very least, the sight alone had put Vernon ill at ease.

“Dawn?" Vernon whispered softly in the dark. But the form remained unmoving, standing in place as it continued to stare back at him. She didn't reply, or even make a sound, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the trickling stream to fill the unnerving vacuum left in the absence.

Vernon wearily stumbled to the porch door, spreading it open quietly as the wolf leaned against the frame for support. His legs still felt somewhat numb, and the blood seemed to be taking its sweet time to run back into them.

“Honey Lamb?" The wolf barked into the dark. “What are you doin' out there?"

The ewe remained silent, her glasses lens simple shimmering slightly as the wolf adjusted his gaze in an attempt to better make out her face.

The wolf took a few shaky steps forward, nearly tripping down the short flight of stairs to the yard as he began to move in her direction. The night sky had grown darker since he had dozed off. Not only had the moon drifted out of sight, but even the stars appeared to be fewer in number as the wolf dumbly tromped into the moist grass of the meadow. There was an unnerving, unnatural feeling to it all, and Vernon felt his hackles slowly rising with each progressive step.

“Dawn, are you playin' some sorta ga-?" The wolf was unable to complete his sentence as the ewe suddenly turned toward the dark of the stream, her form shrinking as it began to move further into the darkness. The wolf heard her hooves splash through the stream as she crossed it, sprinting further away from the wolf.

In response the wolf picked up the pace. His staggering gait improving as he began to jog toward the stream. He wasn't exactly sure what Dawn was playing at. If it was a prank or something else, but it only managed to make the wolf more uncomfortable.

The water was chilling as Vernon waded into the calf deep stream. His toes curling as his sensitive paw pads felt as though they were suddenly icing over. But what made the sensation all the more unbearable was the sudden gust of wind that bristled over his fur as he entered the water. A decisively colder chill that had the wolf bracing his upper arms as it seeped into his bones.

“D-Dawn, t-this ain't fu-" Despite trudging out of the stream, the cold never seemed to leave the wolf. The unnatural chill that somehow cut through the defenses of his plush, thick fur. The air shouldn't have been this cold for fall, even this late at night. It was faintly familiar to the wolf somehow, but he did his best to push through the feeling as he continued to pursue the dark shape of Dawn Bellwether that had once again grown still on the hilly banks ahead.

At least until he got close again. Because as soon as Vernon was within ten feet of her, she took of sprinting once more, further into the dark toward the mountains beyond.

“Da-!" Another chilling, frosty gust, this time accompanied with a faint, rising fog that chilled the wolf deep down in the core of his being. The wolf grit his teeth sharply, biting the air as he began to grow frustrated.

“Dawn this ain't funny!" The wolf began a brisk jog toward her, and in turn the ewe continued to sprint away. Deeper into the dark, into the fog as the wolf struggled to keep up with her. He couldn't remember the ewe begin so fast before, then again smaller mammals tended to be pretty good at running circles around larger ones. It was a strange concept to consider, after all, his mate had never seemed to be the athletic type. “We're gonna get lost out here!"

More running, more fog, more darkness. The wolf's eyesight was failing him now. He had lost sight of his mate, and was only running based on the sounds her hoof falls made. It was only when the fog had become so thick that it became impossible to see a few feet beyond his snout did the wolf pause to pace himself. Placing his paws on his knees, the wolf panted softly as he tried to catch his breath.

“Mam' I'm outta shape..." Vernon muttered. “Maybe I should have been a police officer after all..." The wolf whined, running a paw through his damp head fur. “Least I'd be fit enough to chase-."

“BaaAhahah!" A bleat? It sounded like one. The jarring call had Vernon's ears at attention once again, his ears tilting and twisting in an effort to discern where the sound had come from.

The fog was thick enough to cut with a knife. But within the smog, he could see that familiar glimmer. Vernon furrowed his brow in annoyance.

“Dawn!" Vernon whined as he began to trudge in her presumed direction. “Can ya stop alrea-!"

Vernon froze as his eyes adjusted to what he was seeing. It was a door. At least, it looked like one. A cold steel door with a glass pane at about the wolf's height. It filled the wolf with a sense of familiarity that made his stomach drop, yet he couldn't quite place it. And for some strange reason, the wolf found himself drawn to it. Vernon held out his paws as he grew closer and closer to the object in the fog, a million questions running through his mind as he struggled to figure out just where he had recognized the worn, reinforced door from. It seemed so familiar to him, as if it were etched into his brain, but it remained on the tip of his tongue. As cloudy in its nature as the fog that swirled around him. It was only when the wolf 's paws finally made contact with the glass that he heard it.

Screams. It was all Vernon could hear. That familiarly haunting shrieking that brought a flood of memories rushing back to him in an instant. The sound of shredding vocal chords called out from the savage beasts with only the faint droning of an alarm blaring in the distance as it echoed through the night. Some were the feral bleats of mammals that had lost their minds. But it was the painful, terrified squeals, those were the ones that truly shook the wolf. The sound of the unaffected mammals desperately trying to flee only to be met by the brute force of their night howler stricken comrades. The shrill screams pierced his mind as they echoed through the night, sending shivers down his spine as the baleful sounds rooted themselves within him, unwilling to be shaken out. It was a horrific din Vernon would never be able to forget, the sound permanently burned into his memory from that dreadful dark night in Tundratown. That unforgettable, traumatic evening spent trapped in the frigid abandoned slaughtering ground that was the old abandoned Woolery Wine Bottling Plant, the night when hell had come to Zootopia.

The fog the wolf had left behind had seemingly vanished, and it its place a room had formed around the wolf, boxing him in and separating him from the world beyond. A familiar room, at least in some aspects, to the one the wolf had found himself trapped in that very night. However, it's appearance made it look as though it had aged significantly since the last time he was there.

The dilapidated. Rusted steel walls bent and warped unevenly as they rose to meet the ceiling, causing the condemned chamber to appear to differ in height greatly from corner to corner. Where there once had been reinforced, unbreakable windows, there was now nothing but a wall of creeping ice. A thick frost that had squeezed in through the seams in the old, weakened plating, and spread over it as the perpetual winter from Tundratown forced its way inside. It had layered itself so thick that the original wall was barely visible through the opaque sheen of the frost, and icicles, some as tall as the wolf and deadly sharp now dangled from the top most edges of the icy wall. The massive dangling daggers taking an unnaturally deep azure color in the poorly lit observation chamber.

In the rooms center, the remnants of broken chairs lay partially frozen to the floor along with strips of icy, frayed rope. Broken shards of seating the wolf recognized as the ones he and his companions had been strapped to, as well as the shreds of frozen rope splayed across the floor after they had made their escape. The only thing that had seemed to retain any semblance of how it appeared as the wolf had first seen it was the reinforced steel door with the view port that now separated him from the once gray fog he had been rushing toward while chasing his mate. A fog that had swelled into an angry, deep blue hue that had enveloped the rest of the factory within its icy embrace. A smog so thick that it made the area beyond the door appear to be little more than a featureless void, save for nothing but the ghostly shapes of drifting smoke and the overwhelming, oppressive deep blue hue that saturated the world outside.

Vernon was here again. Back in that terrible place, and in his mind, back in that terrible moment. The night he had nearly lost Dawn. The general motions of the event seeming to repeat themselves right down to the wolf finding himself pressed against the door, his paws clutching against the glass as if he were attempting to escape the relative safety of the sealed chamber. To rescue to his mate, his Dawn. The ewe who was now left to the mercy of the feral and savage rams almost double her size, and out for blood. And there was nothing he could do about it.

'Even if I could break through this door, what good would it do?' The wolf thought. Once he ventured beyond the door, he was sure to succumb to the effects of the night howler toxin that had consumed the outer factory. He knew better. He knew what night howler was capable of, and what it would do to his mind should he venture into the cloud. If he even found Dawn within the blinding plume, he would surely be at more risk of harming her in a savage state. After all, Nick had told him as much in...

It was that thought that broke the wolf out of sequence. Bringing a halt to the flow of the scene currently replaying itself as his paws dropped listlessly from the door. Vernon had gotten out, they all had. Hadn't they? The wolf's memories were foggy and muddled beyond the scene that laid before him, and try as he might to recall just what had happened, his head burned and throbbed in response. It didn't make any sense to the wolf. How had they gotten back to this place?

Another bleat sounded, echoing through the deep blue fog beyond the door. This one, a more familiar guttural call that made Vernon's stomach drop as in rang out over the chaos outside the door. The feral call that had, more so than anything else that night, truly left the wolf scarred. Because he knew who it had come from, and the painful sight his mind associated with it. The wolf froze, tears beginning to well in his eyes as he tried to muster the courage to turn back to the door. To look out that window and see what Aster's terrible weapon had done to his Honey Lamb. To be faced once again with the twisted and agonizing sight, and not be able to do anything more than watch. The wolf gulped, the tears steadily streaming from his eyes as he slowly began to turn himself toward the door.

There, crawling out of the blue haze, was the familiar form of Dawn Bellwether. The ewe stalking toward the door on all fours. Her gait seemed to waiver as she stepped, her hooves shaky and uneven. Although whether that was due to the effects of the night howler overwhelming her nervous system, or that she had already taken a hit or two from some of the crazed rams lost in the fog was uncertain. The clothes she had been wearing that day were tattered, damaged as though she had already been in a scuffle or two before making her way toward the wolf. Her glasses retained the damage they had taken from the trip over the falls, one of the lenses being fractured into a spider web of shards. And behind them lay those unnaturally blue eyes, smoldering with rage as she stared back at the wolf with a familiar, fearful glare. The ewe raised a hoof, backing up slightly as Vernon placed a paw on the pane of glass.

"D-Dawn..." Vernon choked. The wolf wasn't fully sure what was happening, but never the less it hurt all the same just to see the ewe like this again. It felt as though a blade had been twisted directly into his chest, deep into his heart as he braced against the door. Each beat sending a renewed agonizing jolt of pain as he appraised his poor Dawn.

From there it played out just as he remembered, or at least he thought he did. He watched the ewe's eyes soften, a vague look of recognition overtaking them as she cautiously continued her approach to the door. It seemed as if a part of her remembered something. A fleeting fragment, some image, a vague impulse. Now that Vernon was watching her a second time, studying the ewe's features even more intensely, he was damn certain of it.

"Dawn! " Vernon barked, his paw sliding down the door as the ewe froze again. "Floofs!" The wolf sniffled sharply, pawing at his eyes in an effort to wipe away the tears as he continued. " I'm here Darlin'. Its me..." The wolf whimpered.

The ewe took another meek step, her tightly grit teeth, clearly braced from the strain relaxing into a soft frown.

"It's Puppy Love!" Vernon whined. "You know me! I know you do!"

Vernon watched as the ewe slowly sat down, but unlike what he remembered of that cold June night, she remained facing him. The feral lamb tilting her head curiously at the wolf behind the glass.

"I don't know what's going on Floofs." Vernon panted. "But I'm gonna get you out this time! I swear it!"

Dawn's eyes began to shimmer, and the wolf watched as a single tear slipped down the corner of one of her seemingly iridescent eyes. She did remember him. Even in that state, her night howler addled mind managed to see past the wolf's pelt. Through some miracle, Dawn seemed to be overpowering the drug. It was proof that Nick had been wrong.

"Daaaawnnniieeee..." A raspy, hideous growling voice emanated from the fog, the coldness and tenor of it causing both the wolf and lamb to jump. It was familiar, disturbingly so despite how mangled it sounded. In the distance, Vernon could make out a slumping silhouette against the fog. At first, he couldn't make out anything, other than the dull blue glow of what he initially thought was some sort of penlight. But as the hunched, limping figure dragged itself out of the shadow, Vernon found himself recoiling in sheer terror.

The wolf recognized the creature shuffling its way out of the fog as Aster Bellwether, at least to some degree. The wretched old ram who had been the mastermind behind the scheme to tear Zootopia apart with the same toxin that now consumed him. The miserable drunk who had abused Dawn and her mother for decades, and set Dawn on her initial path of self-destruction. A ram Vernon hated to the point that even uttering his name forced bile up into his throat. And if given the chance Vernon would have paid to be locked in a room with the mammal for even just five minutes to make him pay for everything he had done to his own wife and child.

But the familiar hateful churning in his gut found itself completely replaced by overwhelming fear. A paralyzing terror that had the wolf glued to the spot he now stood, his mouth hanging agape as he desperately tried to figure out just what he was truly looking at.

What Vernon was staring back at was nothing short of a demon. He was like something out of a nightmare, and as Vernon stared at what remained of Aster he could only shudder. The ram was more skeletal than mammal. His once crisp brown suit so badly burnt beyond recognition it simply clung to him in gristly tatters, and his now deeply blackened color wool was wildly unkempt, at least in the places where it remained. The rams features were dark and ashen, the wrinkles on his skin forming deep cracks as if he were made of crumbling obsidian stone.

Vernon's eyes traced his remaining horn. The exaggerated, fractured spiral almost as large as the rest of his body. And his once flattened, skewed teeth now pointed and bestial, his maw oozing with night howler solution as he clamped down on his stub of a cigar. But the most horrific feature of all was the ram's eyes. Both were just as hateful as Vernon remembered, but only one of them was truly intact. His left eye was simply a socket, a hole which burned with a smoldering blue pupil in the center. Vernon felt a violent shudder travel down his form as the burning dot fell directly on him. It filled him with a cold, empty chill that nearly stopped his heart. An icy feeling so all-encompassing, that it would make a blizzard in Tundratown feel like a heat wave in Sahara Square.

The ghostly ram's muzzle twisted into a sinister grin as he glared over the two huddled on opposite sides for the door. Aster clasped at the cigar in his jaw, his chest expanding slowly as he took a prolonged drag. The startlingly blue ember ignited as his chest swelled, a deep blue smoke billowing from some of the holes in his suit as he breathed in deeply. Vernon clasped a paw over his muzzle, trying desperately to suppress the sudden urge to retch at the horrific sight.

Aster exhaled sharply, smoke pouring not only from his muzzle, but the nearly empty socket, and the hole in his skull where one of his horns used to be. The deep azure smoke mingled with the toxic fog briefly before becoming completely indistinguishable from it.

"It's time to come home Dawnie dear." Aster hissed. "To join the rest of us where you belong..." The beast snarled. The ewe let out a startled bleat, backing closer to Vernon as she eyed the creature with fright. Of course, Vernon wasn't doing much better. The fear that had overtaken the wolf had left him frozen in place, his body trembling as he struggled to make sense of the sight that stood across from him and his mate.

"A-Aster..." Vernon muttered dumbly, his throat tightening as he struggled to swallow.

The ram let out a low, throaty chuckle that made Vernon's stomach churn.

"Well, well, well..." The monster's blue ember of an eye fixed back to Vernon, sending another shiver through him. "The mutt's here too?"

The crumbling, charred form took a step closer, tilting his head curiously.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised..." Small wisps of blue smoke emanated from the holes in his face as he shook his head. "Still tryin' desperately to hold on to somethin' that doesn't belong to you?"

"Belong?' Vernon muttered, his confusion managing to dissipate some of the fear that had crept into his bones. The wolf pressed his paws against the glass on the door, glancing out at the specter in the distance.

"She belongs to me." Aster replied, his hideously fanged smile returning. " I spent my whole life training that girl, investing so much of my time to make sure she grew up to be something I could be proud of." The ram took another drag of his cigar, the blue smog swirling around him as he exhaled. "I reared her to be just like me. To ensure my legacy is secured one way or another."

Vernon felt that familiar surge of hate building inside his gut, fueling a rage that was quickly overcoming the wolf's fears.

"You don't own Dawn. No one does." Vernon began to growl softly. "She's a mammal, she ain't property!"

Aster let out a chilling, pitying laugh. A raspy chuckle that came off as belittling to the wolf's words. which only served to stoke Vernon's ire that much further.

"And what legacy?" Vernon spat. "You have no legacy! Dawn is nothing like you, and she ain't never gonna be!" The wolf snarled.

Aster chuckled, taking the stump of a cigar out of his dribbling maw and eyeing it thoughtfully for a moment. The ram's mismatched eyes followed the smoke trail as it mingled with the surrounding fog.

"You really think so boy?" Aster asked.

"She turned on you! She stopped you when she had every chance not to!" Vernon growled. "She's not going to finish what you started, she never will!"

"Heh heh heh." The laugh was different, something of a mixture between amusement and a growl. It was enough to send another frigid chill into the wolf's core.

"Oh, did you think I meant to take over the city?" The withered ram shook his head dismissively. "Oh no, we're past that now as you can already tell by my rather unique condition."

The ram extended his frail, darkened arms as portions of his tattered suit jacket fell to dust, the fragments turning into the wisps of the same blue fog the filled the room.

"I'm simply here to collect." The ram muttered, allowing his arms to drift back to his sides lamely. A few more ribbons of his jacket dissipating as he did.

"C-collect?' Vernon quirked a curious eyebrow.

"She lived as I did for so long, it is only fair that she perish along with the rest of us." Aster tutted. "To be spared the same retribution well..." The ram trailed off, placing the cigar back into his muzzle and taking another drag. "It's not really fair is it?"

Vernon glanced down at the feral ewe back up against the door. Her wild eyes glancing back up at his with a fearful gaze.

"I've come to take her to where she belongs." Aster continued. "To keep our name from being any further sullied by your unnatural union." The ram sneered. "To leave some semblance of a legacy for those few who shared the dream that my father and I were striving towards bringing to life. To inspire others to continue with what we started instead of leaving it branded as the name associated with a filthy crosser!"

"Y-you!" Vernon struggled, dragging a paw down the glass as he desperately tried to think of something he could do. He had to get to Dawn. The possible effects of the night howler be damned. "You can't have her!"

"And what are you gonna do?" Aster muttered, taking another step forward. "You gonna stop me?" The ram let out a chuckle.

Vernon slammed his arms against the door in a burst of frustration, but it refused to budge. This only made Aster bust into a full blown cackle, the sound of which made Vernon sick to his stomach.

"I will!" Vernon growled, slamming against the door again. Still it remained fixed in the frame.

Aster shook his head dismissively, letting out a pleasant sigh before raising one of his twisted hooves and snapping his fingers.

In that instant, the sounds of the factory died away. The echoing snap traveling through the vacuum before falling silent amidst the howler fog. Aster took another drag from his cigar, puffing out more of the night howler gas.

"Now, now my boy." Aster's smile made Vernon want to retch. "Dawn has no place with a mammal like you..." The ram trailed, letting out a slight wheeze. "She doesn't belong here. And the existence of your deluded attempt at forging a 'relationship' which runs contrary to the natural order of things is merely just more proof of that." The ram emphasized the word by shifting to a mocking tone.

"But we have a place for her." Aster uttered, his smile returning.

Vernon stopped short of slamming his fists against the glass when he caught a glimmer of movement from the fog. A larger shape was shuffling out of the mist at a considerably slower pace than Aster had entered with, and its form was unrecognizable until it grew close enough to actually see.

Vernon's jaw dropped once again as he struggled to process the disgusting mass of mammals he was staring at. It had clearly once been multiple rams, if the limbs and horns could tell him anything. The jagged horns all pointed at the top of the converged creature as if they were the twisted branches of tree limbs clawing up to the sky. Its multiple withered and stubby legs dragged the bulk of the creature forward, drawing it closer to Dawn as many sets of glowing blue eyes darted in various directions at a frenzied pace. Each movement was punctuated with what sounded like dull, painful bleating groans, as if the simple movements caused the beast a great degree of pain. However, the most distinctive forms in the mass were what appeared to be two large heads. They shared similarly gnarled, exaggerated teeth and hooves much like Aster's, each having their own large, muscular arm to each side of the heads. The only difference between them was the head on the left had a third eye between the primary two, the socket hollow save for a similar blue glowing pupil like the one Aster had.

The eyes on both heads, as well as the various other ones that stippled the surface of their form continued to dart spastically in multiple directions, seemingly scanning the surrounding area with a laser like precision. But as it slid alongside Aster, the mass of glowing eyes ceased all movement before all at once falling on Vernon. As they focused on the wolf, even more eyes began to open along the pale blue skin of the mass of rams. Eyes the wolf was sure it didn't have before, all staring into him with a chilling, cold intensity. For a moment, Vernon found himself locked under the horrific, infinitely judgmental gaze that had beset him, the wolf feeling almost two inches tall.

A wave of renewed terror rushed through Vernon, making his fur stand on end as the wolf stumbled back from the door. He was overwhelmed by the desperate urge to run, to flee from the monstrosities gathering within that cold tomb. And if not for the fact that his Honey Lamb was still trapped within the factory, the wolf might not have been able to stop himself from doing just that. But a fearful bleat from the ewe had the wolf back up against the door in seconds. The fear for Dawn's safety overtaking the fear of the creatures within.

"Yes Miss Bellwether." The voice of the three eyed head spoke. It was the same withered, hateful voice as the ram who had been the warden of the prison Dawn had been incarcerated in. The ram who tried to walk away from Aster's plan, only to be met with the cold barrel of a gun. The ram known as Gavin Mouflon.

"There's a special little cell that was made just for you." The other head spoke, which Vernon recognized as Arthur Wooligan, the other warden in Aster's little plot. "Its been lying vacant since the night you were meant to arrive." Arthur added as they continued their slow march forward.

“It's time you share our punishment Miss Bellwether." Mouflon hissed. “You've evaded it long enough."

Both heads seemed to grit their teeth in unison, their deformed muzzles curling into twin sneers.

"Thanks to the meddling of that mongrel!" Both heads snapped, the hateful eyes returning to Vernon's own as the mass let out a serious of lamenting wails from unseen mouths. The strains of tortured rams echoing through the fog as the cluster of rams squirmed in pain.

"She would have went along with the plan if that wolf ha-!"

Wooligan was unable to finish his sentence as Mofloun snapped at him, his gnarled jagged teeth causing Wooligan to draw back just shy of being bitten. In response the other head snapped back, the two seemingly arguing as if they were nothing more than simple wild beasts.

Despite the fear and revulsion staring back at the multi-headed beast stirred in the wolf, Vernon managed to muster enough of his former courage to reply in defiance.

“You got what you deserved!" Vernon hissed back. “What's that thing speciest prey mammals like y'all always say? 'Lay down with dogs, and wake up with fleas?'"

Mouflon and Wooligan let out a sharp, hate filled hiss in unison as they regarded Vernon's words, the many eyes among them now glaring at the wolf behind the glass.

“We ain't here to argue boy..." Mouflon glowered at his companion breifly, causing Wooligan to shirk into the mass meekly. “None of that matters anymore." The ram continued. “We were simply sent back to collect what's ours."

“I won't let you take her." Vernon hissed, pounding against the glass again.

"Death does not take kindly to being cheated boy." Wooligan snorted.

“Yes..." Arthur sneered. “A price must be paid."

"But we will make it right." Wooligan hissed, his muzzle twisting into a gleefully evil smile that stretched into the mass itself. "The way it was meant to be."

From the shadows, two more forms appeared alongside the mass. Both relatively small, but one moving considerably faster than the other.

The smallest, more impish was the first to come into view. Right away Vernon could tell it was Doug Ramses, Dawn's old flame, and Aster's right hoof mammal. But much like the others he was disfigured and distorted. His overall size, as well as the fact he was hunching made him look as though he was half Dawn's size. His withered arms and legs tapering to pointed ends, almost like the legs of an insect as he rubbed his little arm stumps together. Unlike Aster, Doug's wool had apparently been stained by the gas, taking on a deep indigo hue against the fog. His glowing blue eyes darted from side to side nervously for a moment before he set his sights on the couple.

But it was the larger of the two figures that left the wolf bewildered as it stalked out of the fog. The figure that Vernon quickly recognized as the rabbit cop that had recently rekindled her fractured friendship with Dawn. The same rabbit that had been responsible for turning her in all those years ago. Lieutenant Judy Hopps.

The rabbit looked much as he remembered her. Aside from the hateful, night howler infected glare she leveled at the wolf, and the startlingly pointed teeth she seemed to bare. Her once violet eyes now the same piercing blue that told the wolf she was just as infected as Dawn was. Yet there she stood, allied with the ranks of the army of damned rams that were now closing in on the ewe pressed against the door. Dawn began to desperately claw against the metal barrier, her hooves audibly scraping the metal as she let out a series of terrified bleats.

"Un-natural is right." Doug muttered. "I can't believe I ever wanted to get back together with a disgusting pred-baiter like you!"

"Justice needs to be served." Judy uttered, gritting her oddly pointed incisors as she continued to move forward. "She's worse than a criminal..."

"Judy?" Vernon muttered in disbelief.

"She is a monster!" Judy added, not even acknowledging that Vernon had spoken to her.

With that, the wolf was back against the door, beating against it in his struggle to get it open. The horde of hideously mangled mammals seemed to be growing by the minute, all of them closing in on the little ewe pressed against the other side of the cold steel door. He had to get out there, he was running out of time.

"A debt must be paid." Mouflon groaned, a gurgle escaping his throat as his arm dragged the mass ever closer.

"She belongs with us." Wooligan added, his own arm matching Mouflon's motions as it clambered forward.

Among the moans coming from various other parts of the mass that made up Wooligan and Mouflon, Vernon began to hear the rabble of a building crowd. A garble of noise and protests occasionally punctuated with phrases like 'pred-baiter' or 'prey-chaser'. The collective consciousness of the mob trapped within vocalizing its disgust along with the other night howler addled monsters.

Dawn let out another terrified bleat as Vernon continued to hammer away at the door. He beat his paws on the glass, the seams, the lock plate, probing for any weakness, any sign of a give. But the door remained firm.

"A wolf and a sheep?" Doug hissed. "Better dead than with a pred!"

The phrase was swiftly picked up by the churning mass, the groaning voices now chanting in unison.

"Better dead than with a pred!" The ambiguous throng of voices cheered. "Better dead than with a pred!"

They were only a few feet from the ewe now, Aster leading the ranks as he grinned up at Vernon evilly.

"Face it boy. " Aster said coldly. "The last place my little Dawnie belongs is anywhere else but with you."

"Ver-er-er-non?"

The wolf froze, stopping his fruitless barrage of blows against the reinforced door at the sound of his own name. It was a startlingly familiar voice, one he knew all too well despite the staggered, bleating like quality in the way it was delivered. Glancing through the glass view-port, the wolf peered down at his tiny mate. For all intents and purposes, she still appeared as feral as before. But there was a new found softness to her eyes. The smoldering blue tint that had overtaken her irises had seemed to fade slightly, allowing some of the more familiar lime green to seep back into her irises. Dawn's expression was one of a confused sadness, her head tilting slightly as she slowed her frantic pawing at the metal door.

She did remember him. Somehow, despite the odds, despite what Nick had told him, the ewe had managed to remember exactly who he was. Whether she had managed to power through the toxin through sheer force of will, or the nature of the toxin itself couldn't overcome the memories she had of the wolf. But either way, it was enough to send a renewed surge of energy and determination through the wolf. He was going to get out there. He was going to save his Honey Lamb, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

The wolf reeled back, bracing his shoulder with an arm before ramming into the frame as hard as he could. But all it managed to do was make the door tremble slightly within its frame as the vibration of the impact traveled through it. It simply wasn't enough force.

Aster and his minions drew closer to the ewe, mere feet away from her now as she returned to her desperate scraping against the door.

"Ver-er-er-non!" The call was still feral, but more pleading now. She called again and again over the desperate sound of her own scraping hooves.

"Now, now boy. It's better this way." Aster grinned, adjusting the hem of his tattered coat with a gnarled hoof. The bulk of the charred material fell away as he did so. "After all, don't we both have family names to preserve?"

Vernon ignored the ram as he slammed into the door again, this time from further back into the room. Again the door remained fixed within its frame, shuddering, but defiant under the impact of his arm.

"An order to preserve." Mouflon hissed.

"Law to uphold." Judy growled.

Vernon slammed into the door again and again, starting his charge from further away each time. But despite his best efforts the door refused to budge.

"Ve-er-er-er-non! He-ee-ee-lp!" The ewe cried. Her bleating practically shrill now as the mob began to descend on her. Vernon could see the monstrous paws of the creatures all clutching at her, the ewe writhing and swatting at the mass of mammals in a desperate attempt to avoid their grasp.

But it was a short lived fight. The ewe was both too small, and simply far too outnumbered to hold her own against the creatures in the fog, and soon enough they had a firm grip on the feral sheep. Each of the mammals holding her still with a paw as they began to drag her away from the door.

"VERNON!"

The feral nature of her tone had completely slipped away now, replaced by the pure, unaltered call of his mate. Dawn writhed in their claws, trying desperately to pull free as she reached back toward Vernon with an outstretched hoof. Her eyes were green now, pure and untainted by the howler that still filled the room around her.

Vernon froze, but only for a moment as Dawn's call resonated within him. The wave of realization quickly giving way to an even more intense burning determination. It felt as though fire was now coursing through his veins as he made his way to the far end of the room. Now against the adjourning wall, the wolf readied himself for another charge, bracing his arm as he lowered his hateful glare on the mammals now dragging Dawn away from him. The wolf took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to channel as much energy as possible within himself in preparation for his charge. He could feel every muscle in his body tightening in anticipation as he held his breath, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring as he prepared to throw every ounce of strength and will he could muster at the seemingly impenetrable barrier.

Vernon's nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply, his eyes flying open as he let out a roaring snarl. He was charging with reckless abandon, his eyes fixed on the door that was rapidly approaching, and the mammals that were drawing farther and farther away behind it. He was almost on it now, and the wolf closed his eyes as he braced for another sharp impact. He wasn't sure exactly how much the impact would hurt, but as long as it knocked the door loose, the wolf was more than willing to endure it.

But the sudden, sharp impact the wolf had been expecting never came. Instead, Vernon was met with what felt like little more than plywood that quickly gave way under his charge. His eyes flew open in surprise as he lurched through the frame, revealing the door to be bending and warping unnaturally under the weight of his body as they both toppled to the floor.

Vernon hit the ground with a thud, the impact sending a dull shock through the wolf's braced arms that resonated through his entire frame like a tuning fork. It was painful, but Vernon had barely registered the pulse of pain as his attention was now fixed on the formerly reinforced door that had shattered like glass beneath his body. The shards were quickly withering away from under him. The once thick, impenetrable barrier curling and charring as if it were nothing more than a scrap of paper being burnt away by some phantom flame. The remaining ashes quickly swirling up into the same blue smoke that filled the rest of the chamber. The wolf was bewildered for a moment, running a paw though his mane of fur as he glanced back at the room he had left behind in disbelief.

Much like the door, it too was disintegrating away. The night howler that surrounded the chamber and created the void the wolf now found himself seemingly thrashing against what remained of the room like the ocean tide against the shore. Each pulse of the fumes causing what remained of the room to crumble and wither in the same way the door had. Its lingering, powdery remnants adding to the billowing blue haze that had consumed the rest of the world.

"VERNON!" Dawn's call drew Vernon's attention back on the mob that was moving through the fog. The mass of mammals that held his writhing mate had gained so much distance that they had began to fade back into silhouettes as they dragged her deeper into the fog. Growing increasingly darker and more formless while Dawn's outstretched hoof continued to claw desperately toward Vernon.

"DA-" Vernon had barely opened his mouth to reply before night howler smog quickly washed in to fill the empty space. It had flooded into his open muzzle almost as soon as he had opened it, the toxic fumes carried by his breath down his throat and filling his lungs as he began to gag. The wolf let out a ragged series of coughs as he tried to stumble to his feet. His chest felt as though it was filled with fire, with each shallow breath he managed to take in almost as abruptly expelled in a painful, hoarse coughing fit. It made it hard to fully rise to his feet, and that much more difficult to begin his trudge through the swirling haze between him and Dawn as he reached for her desperate hoof.

A part of Vernon was terrified. The toxin was in him now, and he continued to breathe in dose after dose as he struggled to adjust his labored breathing to something he could tolerate. For the time being his mind still seemed clear, at least enough to keep his focus on the trapped ewe that he was rapidly catching up to. But in the back of his mind, a growing sense of paranoia was starting to take hold of his rational mind. A rising fear, jumping irrationally at every unusual sensation or impulse as the wolf nervously awaited the effects of the drug to begin to show. To take control of his mind and reduce him to little more than a savage mongrel, leaving him unable to save Dawn while lost in the haze of the howler.

But the effects never seemed to come, at least in the way he had expected. Vernon's senses only seemed to grow sharper as he adjusted to his surroundings. His lungs had started to adapt to the foul air, and while the toxin still tingled as it entered his lungs, it had ceased to slow the wolf's progress toward Dawn. He was quickly closing the gap between himself and the mob, and only seemed to gain speed as his balance and senses managed to stabilize. His vision was growing increasingly tight as it remained fixed on the ewe, blocking out the surroundings as he slipped into a sort of tunnel vision. As long as he could hold his focus on the lamb, he was certain he could overcome whatever the toxin could do to him.

“VER-!"

The wolf dove at the ewe, wrapping as much her body as he could in his arms before pulling back with all his might. But the grip on the ewe held by the group of monstrosities was far more powerful than Vernon had anticipated. Despite the rather decayed state of most of the beings, Aster and his horde were considerably stronger than they should have been. And Vernon's underestimation quickly found the wolf slipping backward onto the floor from the sudden halting jerk. His back slammed against the foggy ground, sending a gust of the mist out from under his body as well as free from the wolf's lungs as he let out another painful cough. But despite getting the wind knocked out of him, the wolf maintained his grip on the ewe in his arms.

As Vernon tried to take a breath of the soiled, yet desperately needed air, Aster's minions finally turned their attention to the wolf who was now interfering with their task. The sea of smoldering blue irises that had long taken to ignoring the wolf's presence quickly turned to fix their collectively cold gazes upon him.

“What do you think you're doing boy!?" Aster chuckled, the ram seemingly bemused by Vernon's performance.

"Vernon! Vernon!" The wolf felt Dawn's arms wrap around his neck as she desperately clung to him for safety, and the wolf strengthened his grip in-turn.

Vernon fired off a wild kick at the mob of mammals, managing to strike Mouflon's head hard enough to knock it into Wooligan's with a startlingly loud 'thok'. Immediately the pair withdrew their burly, mangled appendages from gripping at the ewe in Vernon's arms. The two deformed heads quickly turned on one another as they had before, Mouflon snapping his crooked, jagged teeth at Wooligan as the other ram hissed and withdrew. They began to strike at one another with twisted, mangled hooves, A violent slap fight ensuing between the mammals as the mass of eyes on their back began to scramble in all directions in a frenzied panic.

With the largest of the creatures no longer grappling his mate, Vernon managed to pull himself onto his feet, allowing the wolf to take a better stance in this game of tug-of-war he suddenly found himself in.

“You are wasting your time mutt." Aster chided, the ram freeing up one of his arms to adjust his cigar for a moment. “You are only delaying the inevitable."

Vernon snarled at the dark, ashy looking ram, baring his teeth and chomping at the tainted air as he spoke.

“You don't know anythin' you grizzled old ghost!" Vernon hissed, raising a paw and swatting at Aster's charred frame. The wolf swung wildly at the hoof still gripped to Dawn's waist, slapping at it with open claws. The first two swats did little to free Dawn from Aster's grip, but the third was hard enough to cause Aster's arm to fracture away at the shoulder, the startled old ram stumbling back as his crumbling arm hung limply off the ewe's coat.

Vernon blinked at the severed arm in shock for a moment, his eyes fluttering rapidly as he tried to process what he was seeing. But as quickly as it had broken away from Aster, it began to dissipate in the same way his tattered coat had. The ruined limb cracking into clumps and falling away before turning into more of the fog that surrounded them. In mere seconds Aster's arm was completely gone, nothing more than ashes added to the toxic blue void. With another one of the monster's grips successfully torn away from Dawn, Vernon was starting to drag the remaining mammals back with him as he struggled to pull the ewe free. He was gaining ground, and with a few good tugs, the wolf was certain he could yank Dawn free of Judy and Doug's considerably weaker paws.

Aster narrowed his gaze at his remaining stump of a shoulder that had formerly connected to his arm. Wisps of blue smoke emanated from the wound as if it were the end of his cigar as he began to move the open joint. Excess ashes falling away as he made a few small circles with what was left of his shoulder before letting out an irritated sigh.

"No matter how you try to go about it, it ain't gonna work boy." Aster snarled as his smoldering blue iris fell back on the wolf. "Y'all ain't meant to be together."

Vernon's sneer fell slightly, and while he had maintained a firm grip on his Honey Lamb, Aster's words carried a strange familiarity that gave the wolf pause. His cadence and pitch had changed slightly. It was Aster's voice in some sense, but it had lost some of the gravelly, otherworldly tone he had been speaking in throughout the night, instead taking on more of a rural twang.

“W-What do-?"

“Vernon!" Dawn cried.

The wolf glanced down to find Dawn had buried her face into his pelt, the ewe swabbing it back and forth as she clutched desperately to his chest. Looking back up toward the other mammals, Doug and Judy were still pawing at Dawn in an effort to pull her away as Aster continued to stare at him. The older ram shifted the cigar stub in his muzzle from one side of his mouth to the other as he glared deep into Vernon's eyes, sending another sharp chill down the wolf's spine.

“After what she did to yer brother?" Aster spat. “To yer family?" The ram grinned evilly, his uneven teeth twisting into an impossibly wide smile. Aster's voice had continued to fade, giving way to what sounded like two voices speaking through him, one overlapping the other as they struggled for dominance.

“Why should you always get yer way Vermin?" Aster hissed.

Vernon opened his muzzle in surprise. He tried to speak, but at first he could only make wordless mouth movements as his mind struggled to understand just what he had heard Aster say. After all, there was only one mammal who had ever called him 'Vermin', and Aster wasn't him.

"V-Vermin?" Vernon asked. Furrowing his brow as he struggled to stammer out his follow-up question. "Y-y-?"

“Don't like that name?" Aster asked, his normal cadence returning as he chuckled. “I find it rather fitting, although it might not be my place to say it."

With that, Aster placed his remaining hoof on his cigar, playfully tapping his digits along its slimy surface as he eyed the wolf with a smug sneer.

"But I do know of some mammals who it may sound more...natural coming from." Aster laughed. "Why don't we see what they have to say?"

With that, the cold, blue ember on Aster's cigar began to ignite as he drew deeply of the toxic smog. Vernon could see wisps of night howler leaking from what remained of his suit as he inhaled deeply.

"You miserable little mongrel!" A voice cried as a gnarled hoof suddenly grasped at Dawn's skirt. Mouflon and Wooligan had apparently concluded their little spat while Vernon had been distracted, and were keen to return to the task at hoof. Luckily, the wolf had managed to pull Dawn just out of reach of the handicapped ram's wild grasp. But the sudden lunge by the mutated Mouflon had taken Vernon's attention off Aster, and as Vernon turned back to face the old, decayed looking ram once more he was met with a face full of pungent, blue cigar smoke.

Vernon hacked and gagged as the fresh wave of rancid toxin surrounded him in a blinding blue cloud. It was thick enough to obscure Aster and his cronies, but thankfully he could still see Dawn, and only resolved to grip her more tightly as a result of the sudden partial blindness.

“Vernon! Please-!" Dawn cried.

“Whatever yer tryin'-!" Vernon hacked, knocking what he thought was Judy's paw finally free from its death grip around Dawn's ankle. “It ain't gonna-!"

The sudden feeling of a weighted grip coming to rest on both of Vernon's shoulders sent a frigid chill down the wolf's spine. Despite Aster's smoke screen clouding the wolf's vision to no wider than a few inches from his snout, he could easily make out the gnarled paws that now rested on his shoulders. One with patchy white fur and gnarled claws that jutted from each finger, and the other a moist, slimy black furred paw with similarly mangled claws. The wolf knew as soon as saw the phantom limbs just who they were attached too, but it didn't make it any easier to come to terms with as the smoke faded away to reveal the towering wolves now standing behind him.

Dorian, or at least what Vernon could only assume used to be his father was the owner of the patchy white paw. The mangy white wolf was clad in his familiar, yet tattered sheriff's uniform. It clung to his patchy fur in tattered ribbons, which only served to amplify his warped and spindly features. It was as if his normally more solid build had collapsed into the wolf, sharply increasing his height while withering his hardened features. The towering white mammal stood out against the deep blue fog like an ethereal form, a haggard and twisted old ghost with burning blue judgmental eyes. Smoldering, night howler infected irises that were fixed on the ewe in Vernon's arms.

As for the black, oily paw, it belonged to what Vernon could only assume was his brother Yuri. The jet black wolf's form creating what seemed like a void in the deep blue fog. His wet, slick fur clung to his equally exaggerated and spindly frame like beached seaweed withering on the blistering sands of Sahara Shores. The darkness of his fur made his wild and unruly teeth stand out against the blackness, his fangs curling almost as wildly as the horns of a ram as he gnashed them in Vernon's direction. Unlike Dorian, his smoldering eyes were fixed directly on Vernon.

"Yer gonna give up yer name for that waste of wool!?" Dorian hissed, tugging Vernon's shoulder with a jerk. A congealed night howler color foam dribbled from his maw as he spoke, a substance that seemed that much similar to Aster's own beastly drool.

“Yer better off tithing a sweater Vermin!" Yuri chuckled, clacking his twisted teeth together as he gave the wolf a tug of his own. “At least a sweater doesn't come with the criminal record!"

“I-I don't care what you got to say!" Vernon tried to swat the wolves paws away, only for the pair to grip down that much harder. Yuri dug his mangled claws into Vernon's shoulder, drawing a sharp whine out of the wolf as he struggled to maintain his grip on Dawn.

“Vernon! Puppy, please!" Dawn uttered. Her previously panicked voice seemingly more laced with concern rather than fear. But Vernon barely had a chance to register the ewe's change in tone before Dorian pulled at him again.

"You are a HUNTER!" Dorian hissed. "A name you should be proud of!" The white wolf grabbed at Vernon with his other arm, starting to pull the wolf more aggressively. "Attaching it to a Bellwether is just gonna taint it!"

"I ain't no Hunter! Not anymore!" Vernon cried. He could feel his grip on the ewe in his arms slipping as he struggled to fight back against his father's pull. "Now leave us be!"

“Cry all you want mutt, nobody cares!" Yuri cackled, his laugh twisting into a deep, bellowing, monstrous sound as it echoed through the fog. The slimy black wolf gripped his other paw on Vernon's arm, digging a fresh set of claws into his elbow and forcing another whine out of Vernon as he struggled against the pair. “Accept what you are and fall in line!!"

"You think you deserve to be an exception to the rule?" Yuri hissed, yanking the wolf so hard it nearly broke Vernon's grip on the ewe squirming in his arms. "Ma and Pa have bent over backwards for you more than enough times!"

"It's my life!" Vernon spat, Trying desperately to wriggle free of the pairs grip. "It ain't fer you neither of you to decide for me! Us bein' together doesn't concern-!"

“Enough of this Vernon!" Dorian chided. “Let the lamb go!"

“She belongs with us!" Aster hissed, gripping at Dawn with his free arm.

“You will ruin this family's reputation!" Dorian continued. “With or without the name! I can't let you do that!"

“She's a psychopath!" Yuri growled.

“She tried to kill yer brother!" Dorian growled. “How can you even-?"

“She's a criminal!" Judy snarled.

“A relationship like yours won't survive in the real world!" Doug laughed.

“She should have died that night." Mouflon hissed.

The rising din of comments began to overlap one another, growing louder and louder to the point where they had become completely incomprehensible to the wolf. All the while both groups of beastly mammals continued trying to pull Dawn and Vernon apart. It was taking every last ounce of Vernon's strength to keep Dawn in his arms, to keep her from slipping into Asters hellish hooves as Dorian and Yuri pulled him away.

Vernon grit his teeth tightly, each pull causing the wolf to let out another painful whine as his body felt as though it was on the verge of being torn apart under the pressure. But Vernon refused to let go like he had before. He was willing to die before leaving Dawn to suffer under Aster again. The wolf had made a promise, to Dawn and himself, and he was going to keep it.

“Vernon! Wake up!"

The entire world of blue smog and demonic beasts suddenly flickered out of existence, causing the wolf to let out a startled yelp as his eyes flew wide open in fear and surprise. While his vision was bleary and clouded, his new found surroundings filled the wolf with an immediate sense of relief. He was no longer in that night howler fueled hellscape, no longer trapped in an even more twisted version of the most horrible night of his life. Instead, he found himself in the warmth and safety of a darkened, rural-looking bedroom. And while it was clearly not his own, any place seemed more accommodating than the place he had just come back from.

"Vernon!?" As the rest of his mind began to stir from the haze of his experience, the wolf became acutely aware of the warm, plush body that was tightly gripped to his chest, as well as the hoof that was grasping at his chin in an attempt to draw his attention. Glancing down at the ewe in is arms, he found Dawn pushing back against his chest with a hoof, her lime green eyes laced with concern as she glanced up at the wolf with traces of tears in her eyes.

"Puppy, are you okay!?" Dawn whimpered, her voice quavering as she spoke. The ewe's tone was clearly a mixture of fear and worry. The sound alone was enough to sober the wolf's muddled thoughts as his mind finally woke up. The reunion, the fights, everything came rushing back all at once as Vernon ran a paw through his sweat-soaked head fur. They were at the family ranch, sleeping in one of the guest rooms, and in the morning they would be returning to Zootopia. Far from his judgmental father, and his hateful brother. He was no longer a Hunter, but he still had Dawn. The ewe he loved so dearly was still safely tucked in his arms.

“So it was a dream." Vernon muttered wearily.

The wolf abruptly strengthened his grip against the ewe, hugging her as tightly as he could muster as he buried his muzzle into her head wool.

"Yeah Darlin'." The wolf said, his voice cracking as he murmured into her wool. "I'm fine..." Vernon whined softly. "I'm gonna be fine..."

Dawn returned the hug, albeit with a much softer, more reluctant grip that Vernon's.

"Puppy, you aren't fine." Dawn mumbled through the fur. "You were whimpering and crying while you were sleeping." The ewe gingerly began to rub the wolf's back with her hooves. "And you had me pressed against your chest so tightly you were practically asphyxiating me!"

With the ewe's admission, Vernon quickly drew back from the hug. Glancing down and away from his mate guiltily, the wolf scratched the back of his head in discomfort.

“I-I'm sorry Mutton Chop, I shouldn't have..."

He felt Dawn's hoof grip his chin before gingerly dragging the wolf's line of sight back into her own.

"Wolfy, it's okay..." Dawn cooed, scratching his chin daintily as she stared into his eyes. "I was more concerned about what was happening to you than how hard you were squeezing me." The ewe began to gently caress Vernon's cheek, frowning softly as she did so. "I mean, I've never seen you like that. You gave me quite a scare."

Vernon winced softly, his ears drooping as his irises broke away from Dawn's. The wolf let out a soft whine.

"Floof's, I..." Vernon muttered. He really didn't want to talk about what he had just been through. Not for the lack of being transparent with his mate, especially after they had just been over that whole topic earlier that night, but more so the fact that he didn't even want to revisit the terrifying dream at all. "It was nothin', just a nightmare is all..."

“Yeah, I figured that." Dawn's eyelids drooped dully as she eyed the wolf. “But what was it abou-?"

"What time is it?" Vernon quickly tried to change the subject as he pulled out of the ewe's grip. The wolf leaned up and away from the mattress and glanced around the darkened bedroom. His eyes scanning the windows for the faintest trace of morning light as he prayed the ewe would move away from the rather uncomfortable line of questioning.

He heard the lamb let out a soft sigh, followed by the sound of her hooves quietly rummaging around the nearby nightstand.

“Let's see..." Dawn yawned softly as she slid her tortoise shell frames back on. Out of the corner of Vernon's eye he could see her phone light up, casting a faint light across Dawn's face as she squinted through her lenses.

“Three-fourteen in the morning." Dawn murmured tiredly as she placed her phone back on the table with a dull clatter.

The wolf sighed, running a paw through his head fur again.

"We should probably get back to bed..." Vernon grumbled softly. "We've only got a little less than three hours worth of shut-eye before we gotta head ou-"

"Vernon." Dawn's tone remained caring, but there was a sternness to it that demanded the wolf's attention. He wanted to resist, to keep from looking back at his tiny mate. He could feel her eyes on him, her stare penetrating the very core of him despite not being able to see them, and Vernon knew that if he turned around there would be no getting out talking about his horrible dream. Slowly the wolf turned to meet his mate's gaze, the little ewe's brow furrowed as she eyed the wolf with a pouting lip. He was done for.

"It wasn't that bad. Honest." The wolf muttered, trying his damnedest to get through this conversation with as little admissions as possible.

"Vernon, we may not have been together all that long in the grand scheme of things, but I'd like to think I can tell what kind of sounds you would make when you are scared." Dawn crossed her arms, quirking a brow at the wolf. "That was the frightened Puppy I heard, and you aren't going to convince me otherwise."

Vernon let out a mournful groan, but it did little to deter Dawn's apparent resolve.

“Dr. Gnu says talking about these things help." The ewe added, raising a finger knowingly.

Vernon let out a terse sigh, glancing up at the ceiling momentarily as he silently pleaded to the gods for enough strength to get through reliving his nightmare so soon.

“I was back..." Vernon murmured, placing a paw on the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Back in that factory in Tundratown..." Vernon grumbled. “That night when you...I mean..." The wolf averted his gaze from Dawn's once more. It was hard enough to get through it without staring back into those soft, glimmering eyes of hers. After all, he was picking at a painful scab just mentioning that night at the bottling plant. A wound that both of them shared, and he was certain would make the lamb just as uncomfortable as he was. “The night I almost lost-"

Vernon stopped as he felt the ewe's hoof come to rest on his leg, his irises darting back to meet Dawn's own as they quivered behind her frames.

"Oh Puppy..." Dawn cooed, her voice soft and sweet as she began to pet his leg gently. "I-I'm so sorry." The ewe sighed, sidling closer to her mate as she slid across the mattress. " I understand. I still have nightmares about that night sometimes too."

The wolf frowned softly, bringing a paw to Dawn's cheek and caressing it gently. The ewe leaned into his palm, reaching up with a hoof to clutch his paw closer to her face as she let out a warm sigh.

“It was worse than before though Dawn..." Vernon whimpered. “So much worse."

The ewe squeezed Vernon's paw as she pulled it away from her face, wrapping her other hoof around it as she stared back up at the wolf in concern.

"Worse?" Dawn asked with a frown. "H-how so?"

Vernon closed his eyes, letting out a long, exhausted exhale as he tried to muster the courage to continue.

“Aster was there." Vernon muttered. “And Mouflon, and Wooligan, and Doug."

Vernon squeezed Dawn's hoof back as he pressed onward.

“My father too." Vernon whimpered.

“Dorian?" Dawn asked, quirking a brow in confusion.

“And Yuri and Judy." Vernon continued, leaning his head into his other paw.

“Judy?" Dawn asked in surprise, quirking a curious eyebrow.

The wolf sighed, placing a paw over his eyes before drawing it back over his scalp.

“I don't know Darlin'." Vernon murmured. “It was a nightmare, and she was...I mean back then..." Vernon shook his head. “She had it out fer ya. And I'm guessin' that's why she was there."

The ewe gave a meek nod.

“They were all tryin' to drag you away from me, pullin' you off into that blue fog." The wolf whimpered. “Tellin' me how you and me don't belong together. That it'll never work."

"Oh Vernon..." Dawn murmured softly. Now the ewe had reached up to caress the wolf's cheek, her hoof gingerly stroking through the wolf's fur.

“I got a hold of ya, but then Pa and Yuri grappled me." The wolf whimpered. “They were tryin' to rip us apart again."

Vernon glanced up at the ceiling. He could feel tears starting to well in the corners of his eyes, and he lamely swabbed at them with a paw in an effort to push them back.

“They were all twisted and warped..." Vernon murmured. “Like demons that climbed out of the depths of hades itself." The wolf wiped at his eyes again, but the tears were flowing now.

"It all felt so real..." The wolf trailed off slightly. "So vivid..." The wolf whimpered.

Vernon's attention snapped back to the concerned looking ewe now snuggled up tightly against his side, her own tear filled eyes glancing back up at him in concern.

"And you...you were..." Vernon closed his eyes, trying to suck back the tears as images of the nightmare flickered through his mind like a slideshow. Aster's gnarled and tattered features, the merged mass of mammals that made up Mouflon and Wooligan, his father's mangy, hulkish form, and Yuri's slimy features, all of them drifting through his mind's eye like ghosts haunting his very soul. But the worst of the images burned into his mind was that of his poor little Honey Lamb on all fours, consumed by the night howler's toxin and struggling to overcome it. Fighting to recognize Vernon despite what he could only assume was the overwhelming desire to flee from her natural enemy. It hurt that much more not only because he had been forced to watch the ewe suffer, but it was an accurate reflection of what she actually looked like that night. There was no smoke and mirrors, no wild and twisted reflections of Dawn like Aster and the other creatures in the dream. No, Dawn's feral state was exactly as he witnessed it on that terrible night in Tundratown, or at least it had started out that way.

“You were sufferin' from the night howler again..." Vernon whimpered, shaking his head in dismissal. “On all fours and lookin' to run..."

"Oh Puppy..." Dawn cooed, sidling into the wolf's lap as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Vernon gave the ewe a gentle squeeze of his own as he sniffled sharply, trying and failing to supress the now steady stream of tears that were flowing from his eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to see me like that again..."

“Pft...see ya?" Vernon coughed as he tried to stifle his cries. “You had it worse than I did, you had to suffer through-."

Dawn pulled back from the hug, placing a finger to the wolf's lips and stopping him mid-sentence.

"We both suffered that night Vernon." Dawn said somberly. "The amount of trauma we both experienced isn't exactly something worthy of trying to compete over, and it isn't really going to help either of us get over it."

Vernon let out a soft whine.

“It's been a really rough couple of days Puppy." Dawn offered the wolf a soft, pleading smile. “All that stress that built up was bound to come out somewhere."

“I-I guess..." Vernon sighed, shrugging uneasily.

"At least it was just a dream." Dawn continued, wrapping her arms around the wolf's neck again. "My father is gone, and I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Vernon flashed the ewe a weak smile. “Y-y'all mean it?" The wolf asked, his eyes glimmering as he felt a fresh wave of tears welling up within them. He knew it was silly to ask such at thing, but he wasn't ashamed to admit he needed the reassurance.

The ewe wrapped her hooves around Vernon's neck again, but this time the wolf could feel her actively trying to pull him down to the bedding. Of course, the ewe wasn't strong enough to manage that without the wolf playing along, and so Vernon allowed the ewe to pull him back down to his pillow.

As the wolf came to rest his head against his pillow once more, Dawn brought her lips up to his, stopping just short of actual contact as she stared into his eyes affectionately. They stayed like that for a few moments, simply watching each other in the dark as Dawn gingerly stroked the back of his neck. Her shimmering lime green orbs staring back into his with nothing but pure adoration and affection. Vernon was satisfied with simply basking in the warm glow of Dawn's love, but soon enough the ewe moved in to complete the connection, kissing the wolf deeply as she continued to stroke his fur playfully. Vernon was quick to give in to the passionate gesture, pressing back against her delicate lips with equal measure as his heart fluttered warmly within his chest. The wolf savored the soft, pleading breaths that passed from Dawn's muzzle into his, lingering for as long as he could in Dawn's warmth before the ewe gingerly broke the kiss.

The ewe flashed the wolf a broad smile as she continued to idly play with his fur with her hoof.

“Is that enough proof for you Puppy Love?" Dawn replied with a soft smirk.

Vernon grinned playfully. “I might need a little more convincin'..." The wolf chuckled. “But I suppose it'll have to wait till we get home."

Dawn rolled her eyes, letting out a soft chuckle of her own as she continued to play with Vernon's fur. Her hoof idly twisting the larger strands of hair that made up the wolf's peculiar cowlick. But despite the warmth, welcoming change in conversation, a nagging errant thought had continued to tug at the back of Vernon's mind. One that kept dragging him back to that terrible dream, to that awful night trapped in Tundratown. The wolf could feel his smile faltering, and almost as soon as it had Dawn's expression changed to match it.

“Vernon?" Dawn quirked an eyebrow.

"Darlin'...?" The wolf winced slightly. He didn't want to drag the conversation back to the dismal topic. But the dream had brought him back to that lingering question. The one that had troubled his thoughts in the immediate aftermath of that night spent in the factory. Something he had been wanting to ask the ewe, but had forgotten about for some time. The pressing issue lost the moment his Honey Lamb's eyes flew open in the hospital, and the wolf's dismal world came back to life.

"That night...in Tundratown-"

“Oh Puppy, we do-."

Vernon held a finger a to Dawn's lips, stopping her just short of finishing her sentence. He needed to get it out, he needed to know.

The wolf let out a tired sigh. “Do you remember anything?" The wolf asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Anything at all after you got dosed with the...you know?"

Dawn's muzzle scrunched in confusion for a moment before dipping into a soft frown.

“You mean when I was..." The ewe bit her lip. “Infected?"

Vernon nodded somberly, an awkward silence filling the void as he awaited a response. A mixture of expressions came over Dawn's features. Sadness, pain, discomfort, a myriad of negative emotions washed over her as she seemed to be trying to recall the night in question.

“It's just that..." Vernon muttered, breaking eye contact with his mate as he tried to think of how best to phrase what he was trying to say. “I mean...I...when I saw you..." The wolf scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It looked like...I mean I thought you might have...recognized me."

The ewe blinked at him in slight surprise.

“Recognized you?" Dawn murmured.

The wolf let out an uncomfortable grumble.

“I thought you...recognized me somehow." The wolf struggled to continue. “You came closer to me, and you laid down by the door." Vernon winced. “I mean, you should have been afraid of me."

Dawn simply looked on as the wolf pushed through his best attempt at an accurate recollection of the events from that night, her expression a mixture of worry, confusion, and a hint of perplexion. As if she was struggling to drudge up anything that corresponded with the wolf's account.

"But I asked Nick about it in the hospital, and he assured me that there was no way you could have." Vernon whined. "He told me that night howler blocks yer higher brain functions and suppresses yer memories." The wolf mumbled. "It ends up blottin' everythin' out except for base urges."

Vernon reached out, caressing the ewe's cheek softly as he looked into her shimmering green orbs.

“You don't remember anythin'...?" Vernon asked, his ears rising slightly as he eyed the ewe in a mixture of sadness and hopeful curiosity. “Anythin' at all?"

Dawn looked down for a moment, the ewe scratching her head as she seemed to be lost in thought. Vernon could tell it hurt the lamb to even think about it, the slight pain visible in her expression making the wolf regret even bringing it up almost immediately. But just as he was about to let her off the hook, to tell her to forget the fact that he had even brought it up, she spoke.

“I remember..." Dawn muttered, the ewe nervously twiddling her hooves as she began to speak. “I remember the fog swallowing me and my father..." The ewe frowned. “And the pain I felt as the gas started to change me..."

Dawn glanced up at the wolf, her eyes shimmering with the start of tears as she struggled to continue. "I-I never realized how painful it was..." Dawn murmured. "That change." The ewe sniffled softly.

Vernon swabbed a stray tear with his thumb as he continued to stroke the ewe's cheek. Dawn let out a quiet shudder as she struggled to continue.

"The last thought I can recall with any sort of clarity was ripping open Nick's fox spray and frantically dumping it all over myself." Dawn murmured. "I was just hoping, praying that it would protect me from the wild rams. That maybe..." Dawn whimpered. "That maybe I'd survive somehow, even though I was prepared to-"

“Hey." Vernon stopped the ewe, running his paw down her cheek as he began to gingerly stroke the side of her face. “I'm sorry I brought it up."The wolf continued. “We don't have to-."

"No." Dawn protested, pulling the wolf's paw off of her face and clasping it with both her hooves. "I w-want to Vernon." Dawn murmured softly. "I need to."

Vernon fell silent, his eyes fixed on the somber ewe that was clasping his paw so tightly. He wanted to protest now, the pain on Dawn's face too much for him to bear, yet he found himself nodding softly. He may have began to tug at the bandage related to that painful memory, but now Dawn was adamant to pull it off.

“It's all sort of a haze. Just flickers of raw emotion flashing through my mind." Dawn said, the lamb shuddering slightly as she spoke. “Fear, rage, all of it enveloping me at once as I stumbled through this...hellish world of blue."

Dawn pushed her frames up slightly with a hoof, swabbing at her eye in order to stem the rising tears the wolf could make out glimmering in the weak moonlight. “It's all sort of jumbled. Feelings and images and everything, it makes my head hurt just trying to think about it."

“I'm sorry Darlin'." Vernon whined softly. “It's no-."

“But now that I'm really trying to remember, I can...I can recall something." Dawn scratched her chin, her brow furrowing as she seemed to be deep in thought.

“I remember sensing something..." Dawn murmured. “A shape, or form, or something in the distance." The ewe scratched her head. “When I came upon the shape I remember feeling a deep terror. But, something kept me there..."

Dawn winced slightly, massaging her temple with a hoof.

“The hint of a familiar scent, something that made me feel...warm?" Dawn murmured. “It made the fear and rage....not go away...but die down. And I was filled with this overwhelming sense to protect it. Because I felt like it was mine."

Vernon smiled softly, clutching the ewe's hooves in his paws as he stared at her surprise. He could hear his tail flopping against the bed as he squeezed Dawn's hooves affectionately.

“D-Do you mean it?" Vernon choked, tears started to form in his eyes once more.

Dawn smiled warmly, snuggling up closer to the wolf by her side.

“I can't be one-hundred percent sure..." Dawn murmured softly. “But it feels right."

The wolf ran a paw over his eyes as he drew the ewe into a hug.

“Red's never gonna believe it." Vernon muttered.

"Does it really matter if he does?" Dawn asked, looking up from her spot nestled in the wolf's chest fluff.

“Not at all." Vernon smiled, nuzzling the ewe's woolly poof with his snout.

Dawn let out a warm sigh as she buried her muzzle back into the wolf's pelt.

“Do you want to know what I was dreaming about Puppy?" Dawn asked, nuzzling deeper into his chest fluff.

"What Darlin'?" Vernon asked in a low, throaty rumble.

“I was dreaming about our wedding." Dawn replied, letting out a soft yawn.

“Oh?" Vernon chuckled. Admittedly the ewe's statement had caught him off guard. With the general tone of everything they had been discussing, it had almost made him forget about happier prospects that lie ahead of them. “Y'all did?"

"Mhh-hmm..." Dawn cooed. "I dreamed were standing in a beautiful meadow." The ewe sighed, nestling deeper into the wolf's pelt. "It was blooming with all sorts of fall flowers, and I could see the patchy golden mountains way in the distance. Just like how I first saw them when we got off the train." Dawn mused. The ewe began to draw circles in the wolfs fur as she continued to recall her dream. "We were both standing at the altar, under an archway made of flowers and foliage." Vernon heard the ewe let out a soft yawn as she rubbed her muzzle against his fur. "And I was dressed in my Mother's gown, except it actually fit me. Unlike when I used to dress up in it and get pretend married when I was twelve." The ewe giggled softly.

Vernon chuckled softly, his eyelids starting to grow heavy as he listened to the warm, lovely picture his mate was painting for him. “And what about me?"

"You were dressed in the deep green tuxedo that was perfectly tailored to fit you." Dawn sighed warmly. "You looked so dashing."

“I'm sure you were lookin' mighty fine in that dress." Vernon mused. “I'm lookin' forward to seein' it."

“Gus was there too." Dawn murmured.

"Oh yeah?" Vernon replied. "How'd he do on officiatin' the ceremony?"

Dawn let out a soft yawn. “He gave a lovely service." The ewe murmured dreamily. “I can't remember any of the words, but he was very professional. Even Melanie was moved to tears."

"He brought Melly huh?" Vernon chuckled. "You sure she wasn't naggin' ol' Gus about when he was finally gonna get hitched to her already?"

Dawn giggled softly. “No, although she did catch the bouquet I think..." Dawn murmured quietly. “Either her or Ada."

Vernon let out a tired yawn. “ Oh really now?" The wolf chuckled. “Ada was there too?"

“All of your sisters and brothers. Audrey too." Dawn replied. “Except for Yuri and Dorian, I don't know where they were."

“Maybe it's better that way." Vernon chuckled. The wolf closed his eyes, nestling deeper into Dawn's woolly mane.

"It was so beautiful." Dawn sighed. "Everything I could have ever wanted Puppy Love."

Vernon felt one of the ewe's hooves gently caress his cheek before drifting back down to his chest. “I can't wait for it."

“Me too Honey Lamb." Vernon murmured softly. “Me too..."

Those were the last words to leave the wolf's muzzle as he drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around the petite little ewe that had so thoroughly ensnared his heart. Her own dream setting the wolf that much more at ease as to where their future truly lie. Tomorrow they would be gone from this place, and there would be nothing to stand in the couples way. Not Aster, not Doug, not Dorian, not Yuri, not even all of Animalia. The pair would soon pledge their eternal love and devotion to one another, and nothing would be able to take that away from them. Vernon would never be separated from his Honey Lamb ever again.

#Zootopia #zoosona #Assistant Mayor Bellwether #dawn bellwether #fanfiction #wastedtimeee #furry

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ackbang · 6 years

Text

tea time inspired by @opiol’s artwork here[x].

survival wasn’t a beautiful thing--it wasn’t an untainted thing. levi had to do a lot of things he wasn’t proud of, but he was good at them. he’d cut off fingers and toes, fillet a man until he cried like a baby straight from his mother’s womb and screaming for her too. he’d sell himself like his mother did to men and women that had pockets deep and hungry enough for his cock.

he wasn’t proud of it; but he was good at it.

those documents. he needed those documents. the documents were their ticket to freedom, to living above ground that had possibilities and opportunities that were less dirty. more fulfilling. something they could be proud of.

so this is the last time. this will be the last time. the squad leader is a calculating man--it reads on every part of him. he’s better at the game than anybody he’s ever dealt with in the underground. more terrifying than any noble fuck that wandered down into his part of town--their only power being in the gold that weighed heavy in their pockets.

erwin doesn’t have money; and for that reason alone he is a man that makes little sense to levi. it makes him dangerous.

they work around each other for weeks while levi and his friends receive the condensed version of scout training. suspicious glares over saddles; coincidental meetings in the mess hall; footsteps that fall into echoes down ill lit hallways. the echoes cease as soon as his feet do, and he can feel erwin’s shadow on him even though he can’t see it.

“what do you want?” levi says without turning his back.

“i need something from the library.” erwin answers, voice velvety like the dark purples of shadows at the corners of the hallway.

“isn’t that the other direction?” levi turns, adjusts his gaze up, and trains his eyebrows to cast over his eyes--hollows them into two dark pits.

erwin doesn’t answer, but simply nods. they stare for a moment longer before erwin turns heel like liquid metal and glides down the hallway away from levi as if he were some kind of specter.

and levi starts to wonder if he may very well be just that the following day. he calls levi to his office, the room several degrees cooler than the rest of the building, and he does nothing but stare at him with blue irises that seem to lose their definition against the whites of his eyes. he says one thing. asks a cordial thing that sounds like ice: “how are things going?”

levi answers with a short response: “good.”

he’s dismissed with a wave of a hand, and when he closes the door behind him, he finds the air in his lungs to feel like breathing glass. a shudder rattles through him, and his legs feel numb as he shuffles back to his quarters.

as the week progresses, erwin is found in the outskirts of levi’s blind spots, until he finally surfaces and stands directly in his view. his presence presses down on him, and it bothers levi so much that he shouts it at furlan on the rooftops that night.

“he’s obnoxious!” levi all but screams.

furlan folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “shut up, levi. they’ll hear you.”

levi drags a hand up his forehead and into his hair. his voice falls back to normal--gravely and flat. “we gotta kill ‘im.”

“yeah.” furlan says.

“we gotta...” levi shifts in his spot. “do something. find his weak spot.” he’s frustrated in his own inabilities. he’s never been so flustered by a mark before--never so illiterate in reading his victims.

furlan chews on nothing and turns away from levi. “there is one thing.”

levi looks up at furlan. “well?”

“there’s rumors,” furlan says, “that smith doesn’t just chase skirts.”

“erwin doesn’t chase anything but titans.”

furlan shrugs and shuffles toward the door that leads to the indoors. “forget i said anything. there has to be another way.”

levi watches furlan leave, and he looks out across the rooftop, to the fireflies of lights that decorate the karanes district. he wishes alcohol did more than leave a terrible taste in mouth--he could use some distraction.

the next day, erwin stays within levi’s sight the entire day, not even relieving his duty while levi did his in the privy. levi tucks his handkerchief back into his breast pocket as he exits, rolling his eyes and snapping words that sting. “hoping somebody will come out with their pants down around their ankles, squad leader?”

but he smiles, because any other response would be what levi expected, and erwin is nothing but a puzzle composed of pieces from different pictures. “perhaps.”

levi’s eyebrows furrow, then relax. he would laugh if it wouldn’t betray him--maybe furlan had been right. “were you hoping it was me?”

erwin’s lips part, his tongue rubbing against the roof of his mouth before they seal again. his gaze washes over levi’s features, and he does little to hide the soft nod. “i must go. continue the exceptional work, cadet.”

levi doesn’t bother to correct him, holds the insult as a badge of honor, and takes the words furlan said and rides them with courage. this mysterious man--he had him figured out. simple like any other man, with money or not, it all came down to his dick. and levi was very good with playing a man’s cock.

he goes to him that night, raps on his office door with knuckles that are raw from a sparring match that went wrong earlier in the day. or at least, that is what levi intended to tell erwin.

“good evening, levi.” erwin says. he doesn’t raise his eyes, acts as if for once, levi isn’t worth his attention. “what may i do for you?”

“one of your squad members played dirty today.” levi holds up his hand. “i didn’t want to snitch out on the fields, but he was reckless.”

“what do you intend me to do, cadet?”

“i expect you to do your fucking job and take some responsibility over your men. shit like that will get people killed out there.”

“you’ve been outside of the walls once, levi. i saw what happened today.” erwin finally looks up from his paperwork. “why are you really here? did you expect me to lick your wounds clean like a bitch to her pups?”

levi’s eyes set narrow, but grow soft with a soft flick of his head. he leans into the desk, placing a raw palm onto the furniture. he looks down at erwin and finds it rather thrilling to do so. “perhaps.”

erwin sits back in his chair and folds his fingers over his abdomen. he looks over levi, like he does so often, and nods just once. he pushes his chair away from the desk and rounds the front of it, meets levi and presses a firm hand up and under his jaw. he lifts levi’s head, squeezes his fingers along the bone, his pinky pressing into his windpipe, and he looks over him. again. his lips part, his tongue pressing along the top of his mouth before sealing shut again. “you are special,” erwin says. “and what’s more frustrating is that you are aware of this.”

levi is silent.

“i did not drag you from the underground to have you fuck your way through life up here too.” erwin hisses.

levi’s eyes go wide.

erwin’s grip tightens, and levi presses out a whimper through his nose. “you are smart.” erwin tilts levi’s head, and his grows closer, so close that levi can feel the heat from erwin’s breath on his face. “to be frank, i could see the appeal if i were any less of a man.”

levi grits his teeth, presses his face into erwin’s hand so that his hand slips and clamps around his throat. “are you saying you’d fuck me, squad leader?”

erwin’s grip tightens, his body leaning more into levi to the point that he’s pressing him hip to hip into the desk. “yes, that is what i am saying.” he ruts once, and levi feels just how much erwin is packing, and it makes his mouth go dry.

the documents. the papers.

blue eyes and body heat.

all the sizing up. the size in his pants.

levi’s eyes flutter shut. “i’m not stopping you.”

erwin’s lips drag against levi’s, and all these weeks of being followed and following, and wondering if erwin was nothing but a ghost come to close when their lips connect. he’s so warm. he’s so alive. levi’s fingers drag against something, anything, hook into leather straps and brings erwin closer. erwin’s grip on his throat lessens but is still present, still in control. he kisses again before pulling away. “i am.” erwin breathes out. “this is unprofessional.”

“i’ve never been one for following rules.”

erwin’s hand tilts, his thumb running along levi’s jaw in almost a tender display. “i am aware.” his teeth catch on his lip before he speaks again, “it’s what makes you so fascinating.” his touch leaves levi’s skin, and levi finds the loss to feel like the lick of a cold winter night. “i will speak with evans about his battle stance. he was careless.” erwin runs his hand down levi’s arm and takes his hand in his. he lifts it and kisses the red scrapes on the back of his hand. “i trust your judgement.”

levi blinks and then nods. “all right.”

“please get some rest, levi.”

levi grips and regrips his hands along the side of the desk as erwin offers him an exit. his eyes rove around the room as he briefly tries to remember what he was even there to do in the first place. but the air has been sucked from his lungs and he feels a little light headed and...

“do you need assistance?” erwin says lowly, already back in his seat

levi bows his head and shakes his head. he sways off of the desk and balls his fists at his side. he doesn’t look back when creeps out of the room, closes the door behind him, and once again finds himself to be at such a frustrated loss of what to do in the presence of a man like erwin smith.

#eruri #erwin smith #levi ackerman #snk #aot #tea time #titan fic #ack fic

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jonerys-snowborn-scribe · 7 years

Text

Close Call

Requested by @reddoorandthelemontree ! Enjoy! A ‘prequel’ to my fic Heal: Jon and Dany are fighting wights together when Dany gets attacked.

Season 8 timeline.

"Are you sure you want to come?"

She nods, pulling on her winter coat (it's borrowed from Sansa; almost all of her winter things are because her clothes from King's Landing are ill suited for the winter cold). It's too big on her but she doesn't complain; they have other things to worry about. "We have to do something, Jon." She won't look at him. "I'm coming, Lord Snow. And that's a promise. I'm not afraid of the wights. And besides, you might need Drogon."

You should be frightened, he thinks. He is, even after all this time. But then again she doesn't know them like he does-she's never seen a corpse reanimated, or stared into the Night King's dead eyes and realized she’s facing an enemy more powerful than she could ever hope to become. "Just...be careful. Stay with us. Don't wander off."

She gives him a look. "Do I look like a child to you, Lord Snow?"

He doesn't have the time to think up a good answer before they have to leave-besides him and Dany, they're bringing six of their best fighters. It's a small mission, which is the only reason he didn't fight harder to keep her back at Winterfell. They've received word of a small wight outpost that they're planning to overrun. They'll strike fast and hard-and hopefully be gone before anything bad can happen to them.

The morning is clear and cold as they set out; the dragons are coming later because they need the element of surprise on their side. They walk in silence, their feet crunching through the snow and stepping on twigs here and there. Every noise rings out like a gunshot in the still air and each breath hangs in a white cloud in front of them before the wind blows it apart. He feels a deep sense of foreboding that he can't seem to shake, especially as they get closer to the outpost. For a moment he wants to turn back-but the thought of a victory, even a small one, is too tempting to pass up.

All is quiet when they arrive. The outpost-barely more than a collection of shacks thrown together against the cold-looks long deserted, a shell of its former self. He raises his sword and the others do the same. Even Dany clutches her dagger so hard her knuckles turn white. They're silent, watchful...waiting.

Suddenly, they hear a twig crack on the other side of the tree line. Jon takes a step forward, hesitantly-and then something steps into the light. It looks to be a young girl, ribs showing through what remains of her skin and eyes glowing a bright blue. Her teeth are stained red with blood and her clothes hang in tatters. Next to him, Dany catches her breath, but he only adjusts his stance and prepares to fight. "Careful, your Grace. They rarely travel alone."

Slowly the others begin to materialize-there are about ten of them: men, women, and three children. Not all of them carry swords; most of them carry objects they would have used in their own lives-pans, handmade spears, even sharp sticks. Only ten. We can take them.

They make short work of them. Dany stays out of the way for the most part, examining the outpost to see what sort of people used to live there and how many recruits the Night King may have managed to collect. He can tell she's shaken by them but she doesn't let her fear show; she goes about her task methodically like he showed her to, looking for bodies (there are none) or food (also none); everything is iced and frozen over, as if it hasn't been touched in days.

When he's done, they regroup-only for another group to wander in. This time, there's twenty. And they look like they're expecting them. "Call Drogon." She nods once and shuts her eyes; two of the fighters form a perimeter around her, just in case. She's their escape route; if she gets taken down, they could be trapped.

No matter how many wights they kill, more keep materializing-and long minutes tick by and Drogon doesn't appear. He fights every one that comes his way, carefully and methodically, but it barely seems to make a dent. He knows it's only a matter of time before one of them makes a mistake and the Night King gains another follower. "Where are the dragons?" He tries to keep the impatience out of his voice, but it’s hard.

"He's on his way," Dany says, moving away from a wight that tries to break through their perimeter-and is immediately killed by a Stark soldier. "But he can't get here instantly, Jon." More wights are pouring over the hills now and he feels his heart beat faster as he realizes that there seems to be an endless stream of them. How did they know we'd be here? How is this a trap? Because he knows that's what it is. It was all a set up. A trap.

"I don't know how much longer we can hold them off." She bites her lip, looking uncertain. "Only a few minutes more."

"Stay behind me." He tries to push her back, silently cursing himself for letting this happen and for allowing her to come along in the first place. At the moment she's a liability; he's been giving her rudimentary defense lessons but she's still learning how to swing a sword and she could easily get disarmed if she's not careful-or even worse, stabbed.

Just then, one of his men cries out in pain and falls to the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash in his shoulder. Jon fights his way over to him, praying the wound isn't fatal-but he leaves his spot open for too long and a wight manages to break through their protective circle. He goes cold. Daenerys. As soon as he thinks it, he hears a scream of pain.

He's fighting two wights at the same time but he kills them with one blow and runs to her side. The man who faces her is almost twice as tall as she is, holding a long spear; she manages to get in a hit on his hand but then he disarms her and her knife goes clattering to the ground just out of reach. For a second she's frozen in fright-and then he notices the blood on her collar.

Jon cuts the wight in half with one smooth stroke, blood boiling with rage. He immediately examines her, hoping against hope that the injury isn't fatal. She's been cut just below her neck; the injury is long and jagged, but it looks worse than it really is. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly." She touches the cut almost as if she doesn't realize she's doing it, looking surprised when her fingers come away bloody.

He grabs the dagger and hands it back to her, hilt first. "You'll need this." She looks like she wants to say something else-but just then, the roar of a dragon shakes the ground and Jon practically sighs in relief. And indeed, Drogon comes bursting into view and burns half the wights with one breath. The rest scatter, fleeing into the woods; the few that remain are enough for Jon and the others to dispatch easily. Finally they're alone with a fire breathing dragon in the middle of a snowy forest.

Drogon goes to Daenerys and nuzzles her hair almost affectionately, like an overgrown dog, and she runs a hand over his scales reassuringly. "Thank you," he hears her whisper. "You came just in time."

But almost too late.

He insists that Daenerys fly back to Winterfell on Drogon's back so she can get her injuries treated while he and the others walk; it's not terribly far, and he needs time to cool down and assess what happened. He doesn't say that he needs time away from her, knowing she'll be safe, when he doesn't have to think about how her scream chilled his bones and suddenly the only thing important in that moment was her safety. Not his own, not anyone else's. Just hers.

She goes without putting up much of a fight, but he catches her looking over her shoulder at him as she mounts the dragon's broad back and they fly into the early morning sky.

It's only then that he realizes that he's bleeding too. Not badly, but enough to be annoying. In the strange surge of protectiveness he felt towards her, he didn't even notice.

He shakes his head. The world is turning upside down, in more ways than one.

Read the continuation here or send me a prompt here

#game of thrones #fanfiction #my writing #jonerys #snowstorm #prompt fill #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #mild angst i guess

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

Text

Survey #76

“yeah, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good.”

do you ever think about what went wrong in your last relationship? we each made mistakes, and i feel more certain of this now that jason and i have talked. i, for one, gave up on life while still being alive. on jason's end, he, too, gave up on me instead of trying to rebuild me. do you know your best friend’s middle name? yes, colleen. she goes by her middle name, but her "real" name is elizabeth. you have to get a piercing, what do you get? vertical labret on my lip. would you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler? a standard poodle. ever driven into the ghetto to buy drugs? no. mom denies it and got pissed once when i mentioned it, but we once lived in sharpsburg, and that was totally the ghetto. do you own a gun? as i'm mentally ill/have had suicidal tendencies, i legally can't. my mother even can't because i live with her. would you rather sleep with someone or alone? with someone. while it's less comfortable, it's comforting. are there any songs that remind you of falling snow? or any songs that remind you of winter time but are not necessarily about that? dude, i have noooo idea why, but for whatever reason, "dreamer" by ozzy osbourne definitely brings to mind winter for me personally. is there anything coming out soon (books, albums, movies, video games) that you're looking forward to? hmmm, i don't think so... but then again, i live under a rock and am not informed on what's coming out so- wAIT IS OUTLAST 2 OUT YET what is something you wish you had learned earlier that you know now? how would this have helped you if you'd known it then? i don't know if there's anything, honestly... i used to say i wish i'd known jason would leave me, but i guess i don't now. because i loved, beyond explanation. i loved with such a naive innocence, and i don't regret that. when you’re interested in someone, do you let them know? according to my history, i do. what was the last compliment you received? someone liked my hair. i got compliments on it non-stop at the hospital. do you have any siblings? are they older / younger?   including half-siblings, tiffany, misty, bobby, katie, and ashley are older. nicole is younger. have you ever thought about getting your lip pierced? it has been pierced before, and i plan on doing it again very soon. favorite shoes you have EVER owned? the finding nemo once i had as a kid were fly as FUCK allergic to? pollen and silver favorite fruit? strawberries who was your first prom date? jason where did you live the first time you moved out of your parent’s house? i lived with jason, amanda, and jacob. if you were to have sex right now, would you use a condom? in almost all cases, yes. the only situation where i wouldn't is if i was with jason at this very moment and he wanted to have sex, and he didn't have any. just apply the pull out method, and besides that, i shouldn't be ovulating right now, so i wouldn't get pregnant. do you think it’s bad to have sex at your age? no, i'm an adult. have you ever wanted to get drunk and take your mind off of everything? i sure have. how long do you think you will live? eh, probably early 80s, maybe even 70s... i'm not the healthiest person, mentally and physically. have you ever been stung by a bee? i have not. do you like the snow? very much so. how old are you? do you feel as old as you are? i am 21, but i certainly don't feel it. does the quality of a video, on youtube or a television, matter to you? at least very mildly, sure. it needs to be watchable at least. do you tend to listen to music that embraces your mood or does music dictate your mood? is it a little bit of both? i tend to embrace my mood with the music i pick. are there any books or films that have influenced your philosophy? if so, is there one you could name in particular? "johnny got his gun," i r8 8/8 what is the cutest animal? meerkat pups, oh my GOSH what seasons seems most fitting to your personality? in what ways and why? autumn, because everything is dying. :'D do you think you would be a good parent? i don't know, honestly... blue, black, or red pens; or another color? black do you like watching people play video games? yes, i do!! idk why, it's just entertaining to me. when was the last time you swam in a pool? years ago what are your parents views on sex? err, in regards to what about it exactly? have you ever babysat before? yeah, for the neighbor. if your current boyfriend/crush suddenly moved away what would you do? i'd be pretty devastated, honestly. if your best friend revealed she was a homosexual, what would you do? well that'd be a problem, as she's married to a man. i'd be pretty concerned about what she'd do. have you ever dreamed about your wedding? i have. do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of facebook? nope. j and my pictures are still up there. ever plaigarised? no. i have too much respect as a writer. do you edit your profile pictures before posting them? i do minor adjustments, of course. i was a digital photography student, we know aaall about the mandatory deception of editing. :P what's your middle name? marie what's your wallpaper on your phone? lock screen is the bogeyman from "silent hill: downpour," but the artwork is from "anne's story." home screen is pyramid head from the white hunter comic. favorite tv commercial? the dirty mr. clean commercial mAKES ME SOB YA'LL SHOULDA SEEN ME THE OTHER DAY I WAS DONE what is your favorite type of cat? hmmm. persians, sphinxes, ragdoll, etc... what religion were you raised in? are you still that religion, if you had one? catholicism, and no. i'm christian now. would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? nooooo. how many times is your cartilage pierced in your ears? once. do you prefer to spend more time with your SO, family, or friends? why? in my history, my s.o. jason really just touched this part of my brain that just REALLY made me happy. if you see a homeless person asking for money, do you give them any? i'm not going to lie, no. i don't know that person, and WAY too many assholes are deceptive little shits. what will immediately disqualify a potential SO? smoking, doing drugs, excessive drinking, abusive past, and i'm certain there are others i'm forgetting... i am honestly VERY picky. when was the last time you really panicked? when i overdosed a few days back. do you ever get eczema? nope. have you ever witnessed a serious physical fight? i have not. is there anyone you would do literally anything for? honestly, yes. i'd kill for jason. it's very unhealthy and i wish the mentality would stop, but i honestly can't do much about it... do you enjoy corn on the cob? i do. in your opinion, what's the ideal age to start having children? about mid-20s. what's the longest you've ever slept in one go? it HAD to be almost 12 hours. jason and i were up almost the entire night being horny whores and when i fell asleep, i was GONE. have you ever dated someone with an accent different than yours? no. does caffeine affect you, or not so much? not very much at all. would you ever want to follow down the career path of your parents? no. but then again, they both dropped out of/didn't go to college, so... guess i'm not too far off. do you think “sleeve tattoos” are a good idea? *sexual moaning* if you have any tattoos, do you reckon you might regret them when you get older and have children? i sure won't. is there anything in particular that your parents argue about? what? just gonna say there's a reason they're divorced. do you act differently around the person you like? i mean, i'm happier. kissed someone you didn’t like? on the cheek, never on the lips. ran a red light? no. experienced love at first sight? nope. pointed a gun at someone? no. had a gun pointed at you? no. dumped someone? yep. lied to avoid a ticket? no. ridden in a helicopter? no. made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? i woulda preferred you to rip my fucking heart out. eaten snake? omg no. puked on amusement ride? no. been in a band? nope. been in handcuffs? i've been in full-body shackles on one occasion. i was going from the mental hospital to the court. what is your favorite breakfast food? pancakes. who do you (romantically) love? my ex, jason. do you enjoy kissing? sure, yeah. what about making out? i r8 8/8 m8 where are you most ticklish? MY FEET HOLY SHIT where do you want to get married? gothic-styled mansion or similar building pls do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? yes. have you ever slow danced to a song you didn't know? no. if you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? south africa. i want to photograph the meerkats at the kalahari meerkat project. describe your perfect partner. his name's jason. would you prefer to be a vampire or a werewolf? vampire, i think. the werewolf transformation seems painful. most embarrassing moment? borderline having a panic attack because i was like really close to having an orgasm for the first time and i didn't understand what was happening to my body lmao. jason was super cute and sweet about it though and helped me calm down. would you ever consider getting married? i want to get married. if it were possible, what exotic animal would you keep as a pet? if it weren't so bad for them, i'd totally have a meerkat. what is your least favorite thing about your appearance? my stomach. ew. have you ever had a bonfire on the beach? no, but that sounds cool. do you listen to music while driving? it has to be VERY quiet. or else i can't concentrate. have you ever received an autograph from a celebrity? no. can you honestly say you’ve been drunk before? i have. is there a certain color of eyeshadow you prefer, if you wear eyeshadow? black as my soul. would you ever do something you didn't enjoy sexually just to please your partner? depends on what, really. like there are some situations where i'd absolutely draw the line, but here's an example: i don't like oral, but i guess i'd give it sometimes if it made him happy. when was the last time you watched south park? probably not since j and i were together... i remember one occasion where we chilled in my room for hours watching it. are you italian? no. where’s the nearest game stop near you? in rocky mount, by wal-mart. do you have any best friends that you only know online? i guess i still consider mini at least a very close friend, despite not talking much. i have other very close friends too, but not best, i guess. if you could, would you want to stay young forever? yes. being elderly is just, in general, inconvenient. not saying old people are, just the state of being old is. are you interested in anime? no more, no less than the usual person. hogwarts house: just took a quiz, and apparently i'm a mix of all? i very well coulda been off, 'cuz there was a lot of harry potter terminology that i don't know... what’s “out of bounds” for you during sex? do. not. hit me aggressively. main thing. hickies - get ‘em or give ‘em? i enjoy getting 'em, enjoy giving 'em. are you okay with rough sex? hell yeah. i think i'd prefer soft and sensual more frequently, but i'm not totally opposed to just fucking. how big was the biggest dick you’ve ever seen? was it in a porn or in real life? this survey sure took a sexual turn. but i've only ever seen one penis, so... how do you feel about daddy dom/little girl roleplaying? nO JUST NO do you have any sexual regrets? i regret not going all the way with j. he was my first love, and he deserved to know me in every single way possible. have you had anal? no, and i don't want it. do you like to spank/be spanked? i like being spanked, but not too hard. do you like teasing or would you rather get straight to the point? tEASE TEASE TEEEEEAAAAAASE are you able to have emotionless sex? fuck that. sex should be the epitome of physical displays of affection, imo. does penis size really matter? honest to god, i don't care. it's not like a man can choose how "well-off" he is. describe an orgasm. oh wow. i don't actually think i've ever properly orgasmed, but i was extremely close once and totally panicked. it felt totally otherworldly, and i honestly felt like screaming, puking, and just exploding all at once??? i was so scared at first, but as i calmed down, shit was awesome. what’s the longest time you’ve had sex for? never had sex, but done sexual things for hours... like, all night. if you could change the person you lost your virginity to, would you? i would change the fact i didn't lose my virginity to jason. what’s something sexual that you thought you wouldn’t like, but ended up liking? anr/abf surprised the FUCK out of me. i honestly thought it'd be really awkward and uncomfortable, but it's honestly an extremely stimulating and motherly sensation okay i'll stop before this turns into a pornish thing. but basically it taught me ya can't totally judge some things 'til you try it. give your best sex advice, GO. uhhh. ever tried sucking on your partner's tongue while making out? turned my ex the fuck on, at least. would you say you’re good in bed? have evidence i was good enough. do you like gagging on cock/having someone gag on your cock? why? i just choked on my fucking drink. but no, because i like air. when it comes to oral, are you gentle? do you use your hands too? i. was so. timid giving oral. i was so scared i was going to hurt him. i don't think i've ever used my hands at the same time. okay, how do you feel about handjobs? since we were stuck with foreplay due to my abstinence, we relied on handjobs a lot. they're great. have you had any unwanted pain during sex? i've had pain while being fingered, sure. but i guess it wasn't entirely unwanted. has anyone drew blood from you during sex, whether it was by cutting, biting, or scratching? how did you feel about that? no, never. have you ever fucked someone who was sad? did it help them emotionally or make it worse? i'm sure i have, and he's done it to me when i was sad plenty of times, and yes, it's honestly a great mood booster. are you more submissive or dominant? i'm definitely more submissive. who’s your ideal sexual partner? jason was nothing short of perfect. are you accepting “applications” for a partner? lmao fuck that i don't do no "applications" for this kinda shit. who was your first kiss with? first person to kiss me was juan, but the first person i kissed who reciprocated my kiss was jason. how far have you gone sexually? depends on how you rank sexual things, idk...? did you shave your legs today? done with the sexual questions, eh? anyway, no. have you ever made out with someone in public at all? no. do you think masturbation is dirty? not necessarily dirty, just lustful. have you ever made out in a hot tub? *adds to bucket list* do you play with the other persons hair when you kiss? jason had long hair for a male, to his shoulders, and yeah, i liked playing with it. have you ever smoked pot? nope. do you sing in front of people? NOOOOO. ever lived in a trailer park? no. have you ever had dandruff? no, but i have a dry scalp. though both cause flaking, they're still different. what would people say about you at your funeral? i was very quiet and thought too much. what lessons in life did you learn to hard way? your actions have consequences. would you ever give up your life to save another? i'm not going to pretend to be a superhero. it depends on who it is. what is stopping you from living the life you want to live? money, health, willpower... ever held a newborn animal? kittens, yes. how do you dress when you’re not at work? i don't have a job, so. but when i'm home anyway, i'm dressed for comfort, usually in my pajamas. if i'm going out, i will dress usually in something like yoga pants and a graphic tee. do you care overly about other people? the only person i'd say i care "overly" about is jason. what was your favorite pokemon as a child? charmander (: do you know what the heck the difference is between the statements “we’re just dating” and “we’re together”? technically the same in my honest opinion, but at the same time, "we're dating" also sounds more casual. if a person is brought up speaking both spanish and english in equal amounts and equally fluently, which language do they think in? *KA-BOOM* have you ever thought about getting your lip pierced? it was pierced for many years, and i'm planning on getting it re-pierced very soon. last film you watched? i just finished "finding dory" actually, now i'm watching "zootopia." when consuming a beverage that comes in a can, do you prefer to drink it directly from the can or do you pour it into a cup? i like to drink it from the can. tastes sliiightly different and is colder. what do you do to cure a headache? sleep or take medicine. do you still possess any belongings from your childhood? do they hold some special significance? absolutely. i actually have two things i call "treasure boxes" where i hold certain, very special belongings. nostalgia overdose. are any of your fingers or toes deformed? what about the nails? no. i would, however, call one of my nails unusual. my right ring finger, its nail curves inward towards the base definitely more than it should. it's so weird considering both my immediate sisters have it, too. when yawning, do you cover your mouth? always in public, yes. it just seems polite. as a kid, did you love playing on neopets? neopets and webkinz were my SHIT. i was more into webkinz, but neopets was amazing, too. i loved the dragon one and the newer one that looked like a doggish thing with a stripe going down its body? i think it started with an "x"? what is the background on your desktop? why’d you choose that? on my own laptop, it's trico and the boy from "the last guardian" bc i love that game and its artwork. on the laptop i've been using for like three months, it's a picture of my sister ashley and her baby aubree at the beach. are you comfortable with people going through your phone? no, and i don't know why, actually...? like i have NOTHING bad on there, it's just... weird? do you tend to daydream a lot? if so, about what? i do, aaaaa lot. aaand it's always about jason. e_e have any interesting conversations lately? ohhh god. not necessarily a convo, but lemme just make this known. chelsea: *creates fire w/ hairspray and lighter* *screams ensue* YOU ALMOST MADE ME COME HARDER THAN JASON EVER HAS then came the laughter and the stomachache from all the heaving what do you have pierced on you? now? only my ear lobes, and i'm livid about it. i had to take my fucking piercings out at the hospital, and they closed up. my ear lobes didn't tho, i guess 'cuz i've had them since childhood... but i am actually pissed. where do your grandparents live? maternal: well, she technically lives in florida, but stays in new york with her son's family a load. paternal: michigan. pencils; mechanical or traditional? mechanical, by far. eliminates the need to sharpen. what was the last zoo/aquarium you went to? asheboro zoo or whatever it's called. what is the last big risk you took? did it pay off? talking to jason face-to-face, absofuckinglutely. that could've so easily ended in another suicide attempt. but anyway, yes, it paid off. what's the closest you've come to death? overdosing, i guess. what chocolate is your favorite? milk who is your favorite blogger? i don't really have one. what was the best thing you were given? jason's love and attention, even if just for three and a half years of my life. have you ever cheated on your partner? nope. are you over your past? not in the slightest. did you try to change for a person? ha. he left too soon to give me a chance. e_e are you in a good or bad mood? eh, i'm good for now. name someone you can’t live without. no one. after losing jason, well, i'm sure i can survive without anyone, ultimately. are you a crybaby? 10/10 do people praise you for your looks? no. SEXIEST disney character that's not human? okay sorrynotsorry but scar and steele are SEXY do you believe in the phrase “if it’s meant to be, it will be”? ha! no, sorry. i refuse to believe jason and i weren't "meant to be." what do you put on hotdogs? ketchup and mustard do you know how to play chess? no. did you/are you going to go to prom? i went to jason's senior and my senior. man... i remember how shy he was when he asked me... it was so cute. :/ what’s the most physically painful thing you’ve ever experienced? having a pilonidal cyst opened and drained while still conscious and insufficiently drugged. FUCK THAT. what’s the most emotionally/mentally painful thing you’ve ever experienced? jason leaving me. have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life? not to my knowledge. are you a very open or private person? open online, private af irl what do you get complimented on the most? my hair who was the last person you talked about sex with? chelsea or colleen what was the last deep conversation you had about? jason. i was talking with chelsea. why do some girls become so dependent on their boyfriend/husband? well, i, for one, was rather dependent on jason, and it was because i needed a pillar, and he was strong, but i guess i put too much weight on him... i had no fucking idea it was too much. as well, it was because i am not an independent person. i'm a follower and act like a dog on a leash towards the people i trust. it's simply my desire to be a loyal companion. i don't know how to change that. do you enjoy going to church? i do, but not for TOO long. what do you have tattoos of/what do you want tattoos of? oh god. you asked for it. as for tats i have, i have a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist, "perfectly flawed" written on my left, upper arm, and "ohana" written on my right collarbone. as for what i want, i have about 100 ideas, but i'm going to only list the ones i am quite serious about. my next tat is of "denialism" by da's tatchit, and it's going on my right upper arm as a half-sleeve. here's the list: - "... and you ain't got his smile" written maybe under my left breast. it's a harley quinn quote, and i want it as dedication to jason. which no, i will not regret. - the magic sigil thing from "shadow of the colossus" somewhere - either a pyramid head, robbie the rabbit, or halo of the sun tat to pay tribute to "silent hill" - "he who knows pain is dangerous" written somewhere, which is a rammstein lyric, in either english or maybe german - spider sternum tattoo - a hydra coming towards the viewer with "from slave to master, i've become the hydra" (otep lyric) written in a semi-circle above it. i honestly want this on my lower stomach, like, starting above my private, but i most likely will not do this. still thinking of where to relocate it. - "i believe what doesn't kill you simply makes you stranger" written somewhere, a quote from the joker. - "how long is forever?" "sometimes, just one second" from "alice in the wonderland." i want the quotes in speech bubbles vertical of each other. - a harley quinn-esque design with "rotten" written on it. on my right asscheek. yeah. talk about slutty lmao. - a large viper on one of my hips. - three sketch-style arrows going down my left lower arm - "once upon a time, i ripped the wings from my spine, but when i hide inside your eyes, i still pretend that i can fly" (otep lyric) written along my spine I HAVE SO MUCH MORE. but my phone's dead (i have more ideas on there) and i have even more saved to my dead computer... are most of the adults you know married or divorced? divorced... it's so sad. :/ when was the last time you were mistaken for a mom? at therapy some time ago. mom was with me, and she was babysitting. what is your mom’s and dad’s favorite tv show? mom's: "the big bang theory," probably. dad, idk. have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair? nope do you think buying second hand clothes is gross? certainly not. does it gross you out when your parents kiss? well, they're divorced, sooo... does your dad swear? yeah. do you sweat easily? i sweat like an obese pig. it's due to one of my medications. if your last kiss asked you on a date, what would you say? "absolutely!" when you like someone, do you picture what your children will look like? no. when was the last time you drank strawberry milk? elementary school when i tried it for the first time. absolutely fucking disgusting. do you own a pair of fingerless gloves? yup. i was big into that in high school. did you have a good driver’s ed teacher? he was fine, but i am 100% certain that on one occasion, if i had listened to him, we would have died. if you have siblings, which one of you is going to be married first? ashley's already married, i'll probably never find anyone, so i guess nicole's next. did you kiss the last person you really wanted to kiss? like, do you mean did i kiss him the last time i wanted to kiss him? if so, no. he barely even let me hug him. when your last relationship ended, how long was it before you felt ready to think about being with someone else? it's been over a year and i still don't feel entirely ready. do you think it’s wrong for someone to commit themselves to a long-term relationship at a young age? explain. no, and there's no real need to explain...? obviously, even young people are capable of sincere love? are you legal to drink? yep. do you have any dirty pictures on your cellphone? i do not. what do you want more than anything in this world? jason. last time you felt physical pain? earlier today. my stomach was hurting. last time you felt emotional pain? i'm clinically depressed. i live with emotional pain. what are you listening to? "american horror story" is on. it's actually a ptsd trigger, so i'm trying to watch it again to like... edit the memory. i'm doing it with chelsea so i won't be alone. do you like your handwriting? i do. do you own any dresses? if so, what colors are they? i do not. i wish. when was the last time you went tanning? never. have you ever been in a car accident? quite a mild one.

#survey #quiz #questions #asks #answered

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captivesrp · 7 years

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The next day is sunny; nature reminding him what summer is like before autumn throws him into a dreary, wet winter where rain and slush are, inevitably, ever present.

A shadow falls over Murchadh has he observes the sun; the haft of a spear is lowered down into the pit.

“Grab on,” growls the burly brigand holding just beneath its point. “Time for your interview.”

Murchadh does not think too long. He grabs on and is hauled, disgruntled, into the bright sun. He squints to prevent his vision from being washed out by the bright light. He is led into the small village of ragged tents and is stopped outside a square canvas structure.

Murchadh is pushed inside, grateful that he has been squinting; his eyes are quick to adjust to the dark interior. The air is heavy with the scent of burning herbs. The tent is decorated colourfully, draped with tapestries. Candles and a bowl of the gently smoking herbs sit on a low table in front of a richly dressed brigand Murchadh has not seen before. The stranger’s pale red eyes watch him with interest.

Murchadh sits on a small stool opposite the brigand and remains silent, staring at the stranger without moving. The stranger watches him back, their eyes searching and unreadable.

Finally the brigand breaks the silence. “My name is Fuldryn. I’m just going to have a little conversation with you today.” They brush some wisps of blonde hair from their forehead. “I have been told you think you know why you’re here.” Fuldryn pauses, waiting for a response.

Murchadh sits silently, as if watching a wary animal in the woods.

“I’ve heard you’ve spent a fair share of time in the woods.” Fuldryn gives a subtle smile. “You surprised Tyree when they found you---got him pretty good with a dagger, I hear.”

Again, silence. Murchadh is deep in thought, trying to decide how to play out this meeting.

“Would you care to contribute a word or two?” Fuldryn prompts.

Murchadh shakes his head slightly to clear it. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you want me to say; all that’s been said is what you have heard of me.”

Fuldryn smiles. “I would like to know how you would assess your skills and talents.”

“Ah,” Murchadh says, “I see.” He shrugs. “I am very good at bushcraft. Barring my physical limitations, I can do anything one might need to in order to survive. I am never truly lost, day or night, woods or hills. And I am also good at storytelling,” he adds as an afterthought.

“You are familiar, then, with healing and hunting?”

“I know a few helpful plants. I can hunt anything that can be killed with a thrown knife, like rabbits, partridges, and squirrels.”

“Point north.”

Murchadh nods confidently towards the corner of the tent behind Fuldryn.

“Very good."

Murchadh almost shivers; the way in which Fuldryn looks at him is not comfortable. Revealing his knowledge has set him ill at ease, and the brigand’s intelligent look is adding to his discomfort. At this rate, his kidnappers will soon know everything about his skills and abilities.

“You have a lot to contribute,” Fuldryn says. “I am sure that you will prove instrumental in affecting our goal. What you are about to be part of is the beginning of a legend.”

Murchadh snorts aloud. Legends are what he tells gullible villagers around a campfire. Tired of being treated like one of those simpletons, Murchadh decides to be fully honest. He says, “I do not fear you or anyone else here. I refuse to fear you; I would not willingly give you that power over me. I respect the skills and abilities of those that I interact with but only as much as they warrant. If I stay and cooperate it is because I believe it to be in my best interests. I will leave when I am finished, and if it means my death, at least it will be by my initiative and choice.” He says this in a steady, calm voice, trying his best to not be aggressive.

Fuldryn sits back and looks at him intently.

Murchadh continues, “I have already decided to stay, not for any reason that you or anyone else has given. I have a wholly different reason. Lucky for everyone, being compliant until the task is complete is the best way to honour my own purpose. You have my cooperation.”

Fuldryn smiles dryly. “Oh good. Well,” they say, shifting onto their knees and extending a hand for Murchadh to shake, “I think I have you placed. Máerl will lead you back to your pit. Only one more night---your training starts tomorrow.”

Murchadh shakes Fuldryn’s hand as a peer, and leaves the tent.

Murchadh limps along as he is lead back to his pit, knowing that his life of ease is at an end. He gives a brief smile to Anwen as he is lowered into the pit, clutching the spear with his legs as well as his good arm. The spear remains lowered and Anwen is called up right away.

Murchadh does not speak much for the rest of the day but after Anwen’s return they play their usual games. Anwen is getting better at moving silently and listening for his movement but Murchadh knows the woods are completely different than the bottom of the pit.

* * *

The next day dawns cold and foggy. He still hears the last words of his golden friend echoing in his head: “Today is the day you begin your destiny.” Murchadh shakes his head to clear it. Dreams are just dreams; he needs to focus on surviving.

It is Tyree who comes and pulls him out of the pit, pulling up Anwen immediately afterwards. He growls, “Come with me. No funny business.”

As they walk through the mist, Murchadh contemplates slipping his dagger out from the back of Tyree’s belt, but he is sure Tyree is suspecting such an action. If caught, he would be killed, most likely---and possibly Anwen as well. It is not worth the risk.

Through the fog ahead a figure emerges. It is a female brigand, and with her is one other child.

“Gimp, this is where you stay,” Tyree instructs.

Murchadh looks back to watch Anwen and Tyree move off. Anwen seems uncomfortable and glances back at him as she and Tyree disappear into the fog.

Murchadh waits silently for a few hundred more breaths, glancing idly at the boy beside him and the brigand watching them both.

A gruff voice calls out from the fog, “Here’s the runt,” and a tiny boy is pushed into their circle of view.

The female brigand by Murchadh bristles at the diminutive. “That’s—!” she starts, before shaking her head and turning to her charges. She introduces herself, “I’m Asgell. Today is your first day of training You three have been chosen, for your intelligence and promise, to become guides—pathfinders. Over the next fortnight you will learn to read the stars, the trees, and the messages of the earth.”

Murchadh notices that the first boy looks nervous.

“We’re going on a bit of a hike today.” She adjusts a thick coil of rope slung over her shoulder and Murchadh wonders just what kind of “hike” they are in for today. “Follow me,” says Asgell, and turns away.

The first boy turns to Murchadh just as he steps away. Murchadh throws him a reassuring wink as he sets off after Asgell. They enter the tangled woods and walk for a time. Murchadh slows his pace to walk abreast of the other boys. “What are your names? Mine is Murchadh.”

“Ffrewgí,” says the first boy. He is heavyset and soft-looking, but Murchadh can see determination in his eyes.

“Wyddryr,” says the smaller lad. His back is bare and covered in long scars.

“Well, friends,” Murchadh says with a smile, “I guess we all have the same task in this great purpose of theirs. How accomplished are you lads at bushcraft?”

Ffrewgí looks at Murchadh with a quizzical look. "Um, I live—I mean, lived,” he pauses with a sad look, “near a forest and I spent a fair amount of time there. I’m not proficient or anything but . . . but I understand the essentials. I think.”

“If you were to go for a run through the forest---into an unfamiliar part of it---would you be able to find your way back?” Murchadh asks to clarify.

“It depends, I guess.” Ffrewgí looks at his feet.

“Where are you from, Murchadh?” asks Wyddryr. “Your accent is interesting.”

“I am a wanderer,” Murchadh answers, looking directly into the bright eyes of his new teammate. “I have picked up many dialects and accents. I use them at will."

“Where were you born?” Wyddryr presses.

Murchadh fires a question back in return, “Where do you come from? Where did you get those scars?”

Ffrewgi mumbles quietly, “I . . . I think Asgell is getting ahead.”

Murchadh looks piercingly at Wyddryr. “I understand the need to keep one’s background and history unspoken, but we must share skills and teach each other what we know so that we can help each other survive what’s ahead. You are young, but your scars say you've seen a lot. Share your wisdom---I won’t press you to share how you got it.”

Wyddryr nods, his eyes never leaving Murchadh’s own.

From somewhere deep in Murchadh’s mind a thought springs up, and he starts to wonder how many times the brigands have had to assemble a crew of children to attempt this task.

He remains silent and observant for the next few hundred breaths. Wyddryr’s scars are testament to a difficult past, and the pit with its daily food has probably been an improvement for him: steady food and no whips. Ffrewgí, on the other hand, has a softer body that seems to be used to substantially more food---and also, probably, freedom. Murchadh smiles to himself. He will have to find some food on the walk today; Ffrewgí will probably be thankful.

Suddenly Asgell comes to a stop. Murchadh looks ahead at a noticeable incline.

Asgell faces them and nods at the slope behind her. “Your goal is to go straight up the face of this mountain and retrieve the flag at the top. I will be following behind, but it will be up to you to navigate the climb.”

The fog is not as dense here as it was in the camp and Murchadh feels a cool breeze as he considers the path ahead. “Since you're holding rope I am guessing there are going to be some really steep sections.”

Asgell smiles. “Perhaps. It’s here if you need it.”

Murchadh smiles in return and nods. “Well, up we go.” He sets off in the lead, the other kids following and Asgell taking up the rear.

The going over the next few movements of the sun is tough but manageable for the whole party. Murchadh periodically points out the reasons for pathfinding choices he makes, zigzagging here, avoiding mudfall there, and his peers prove quite smart and quickly catch on.

They move at a slow, steady pace until they encounter a nearly sheer rock bluff above five spear’s-lengths high. Murchadh looks to either side to find a way around it but figures it will not be possible: Asgell had probably chosen their starting point specifically to test them on obstacles like this one.

Murchadh sighs. “Well, lads, this is where I am no good. I have never been able to climb.”

Wyddryr wordlessly approaches Asgell and extends a hand. She regards him for just a moment before giving him the rope. After shrugging under it, Wyddryr is up the rock face in hardly a hundred breaths. He then ties up the rope and lowers down the slack. Murchadh and Ffrewgí hesitate and look at each other. Murchadh makes the first move, and steps up to the rope.

It is a long, hard struggle for him, but with a few helpful tips from Wyddryr he manages to make it up.

Ffrewgí does not take nearly as long, and Asgell is up in a flash right after.

“Very good---we may make it back before tomorrow morning,” she says with a brief smile.

Murchadh winks at her then turns to Wyddryr. “How did you learn to climb like that?”

Wyddryr replies, “Where I . . .” He trails off and a hand absently moves to his back. “I had to gather eggs from birds that nest on rock faces. On the coast.”

Murchadh nods. “Teach me what it means to climb. I---”

Asgell cuts him off, encouraging them forward. “Don’t stop, now! Food is waiting back at the village!”

* * *

As the morning wears on, Murchadh quietly gathers berries and edible plants and slips them to the kids. He is pretty sure Asgell notices, but she lets him continue. Murchadh also has everyone drink at springs or clear brooks they encounter---water on mountains can be scarce; best to drink when you have a chance.

Just after midday, as they are trudging along in a tired silence, Murchadh notices something move in the underbrush to his left. He motions for a halt and for silence, then moves quietly to Asgell and whispers, “Could I perhaps borrow a knife? There are a pair of pheasants up ahead.”

Asgell cocks an eyebrow and squints at him.

Murchadh tries again. “You have my word that I will not travel more than a hundred paces, nor will I keep the knife or harm you with it after I have finished with the pheasants.”

Asgell slowly pulls out a flat-handled throwing knife, still looking at him levelly. “This is one of a set of three; keep in mind that I have the other two.”

The threat does not get past him. Murchadh smiles brightly as he holds the fine weapon. “I would expect nothing less.”

Murchadh moves silently into the brush, moving in time with the swaying shadows of the forest as it dances with the breeze. He is home; the forest loves him and he loves it. He ghosts forward until he has a clear shot at the two pheasants. He throws for the larger of the two first. The knife glints, then disappears into the feathers of the bird’s breast. The other panics and desperately flutters onto a low branch of a nearby tree.

Murchadh retrieves the knife from his kill, lines up his next throw, and takes the second bird down from a distance of at least five paces, the knife turning three full rotations before burying itself in the pheasant’s feathers. If the knife had not been made specifically for throwing, Murchadh knows the throw would have failed.

After collecting his kill, Murchadh heads confidently back to the group. He approaches Asgell with caution and slowly extends his left hand with the knife sideways. “Thank you, it is the finest blade I have been able to hold.”

She smiles and reclaims her blade. “Now, who is going to cook these fine birds?”

Ffrewgí steps forward. “I can, if you like.”

Murchadh smiles and hands him the pheasants, then looks to Asgell. “May I gather some herbs to flavour the meat?”

She nods. “Don’t be gone long.”

Murchadh nods and in a short time finds some wilting chives. Traveling back to the group by a different path, he also harvests some sage and mint. He shrugs; maybe Ffrewgí can use these. Murchadh returns to the smell of a small fire. Ffrewgí’s hands are coated in feather-down, dressing the last bird. Murchadh deposits his finds by the boy’s knee then sits back to watch.

In short order the birds are over the fire, and not long after that they are ready to eat. Asgell takes the smaller bird for herself and Murchadh takes only a leg of the other, letting Wyddryr and Ffrewgí split the rest.

Murchadh settles back to eat, enjoying the taste of fresh meat. Between bites he discreetly eats some second growth dandelion plants, harvested from right behind him, that are not old enough to be unbearably bitter. He enjoys watching life slowly re-enter Ffrewgí as he eats, but Asgell will not let them savour the moment for long; before the three kids are finished, she stands and instructs them to start off up the mountain again.

* * *

Another rock face stretches up before Murchadh. Inwardly, he groans; the last one had been hard enough, and he had still been fresh from a night’s sleep. Wyddryr climbs first, as last time, and points out some really helpful features. Murchadh moves to the bluff, but before he lifts himself up to start the painful climb, Ffrewgí steps up next to him. The boy fiddles with the rope Murchadh has wrapped around his right arm, allowing for Murchadh to still have the security of it around his arm but devising a way for him to be able to to feed it by and still use it to pull himself up with.

Using Ffrewgí’s clever weave and Wyddryr’s pointers, he makes it up without too much trouble, and when Ffrewgí and Asgell make it up after him they all trudge onward. As they walk, Murchadh feels aches grow in his shoulders and arms: climbing is putting to use a whole new set of muscles for him; he had not even realized that half of his aching muscles had ever existed.

The sun is well past its zenith and is beginning to touch the western horizon when Murchadh pauses to look back. He knows they are close to the top . . . and they need to be; the effect of the pheasants has faded away and his companions are once again captives on a forced march. He is exhausted himself, but he has spent years traveling; exhaustion is something he can handle and pathfinding is second nature to him. As long as he does not have to climb another rock face he will be fine---

Then he sees it: the flag! The top is hardly a spear’s-throw away! There is just one problem . . . the flag is directly above them, up a craggy rock face. A small part of Murchadh’s spirit dies within him as he looks up. Their rope is likely only one third of the length of this rock face. He sighs.

Wyddryr looks up with slumped shoulders. Murchadh walks along the bottom of the cliff for a few hundred paces each direction, but there is no hope; climbing it is their only path. Wyddryr walks back and forth, inspecting the base of the cliff, muttering. Then he climbs.

He goes a quarter of the way up and ties the rope off to a rock spur, then waits on a thin ledge. Murchadh follows him using the rope while Ffrewgí holds the rope taunt at the bottom so his arm-weave system will work smoothly. When Murchadh reaches the ledge, Wyddryr pulls him up and they wait for the other two. This process happens twice more, Wyddryr finding ledges, cracks, and spurs to tie the rope to or rest on, the others following when the rope is secure.

The light is fading fast now and the last leg of the climb is before them. Wyddryr makes it to the top in short order and after securing the rope to something out of sight throws it down. After Ffrewgí completes the weave on his arm Murchadh begins his climb. He is halfway to the top when his left hand slips and his feet leave the rock face. He is falling!

Then, just as quickly as he started to fall, he stops with a sharp jerk to his right arm. The rope has bound itself tightly to his arm! He notices he is swinging and looks down to see Ffrewgí hanging onto the rope for dear life, suspended over sixty paces of cliff face. Murchadh yells, “Hold on!” and starts to encourage the rope to swing into the cliff. After a couple of tries, Ffrewgí is able to regain his perch on the ledge, and then Murchadh is able to grip back onto the cliff. Only after he removes his weight from the rope, lifting with his left hand, does he realize the genius of Ffrewgí’s weave. If enough weight is applied from below, the weave will bind on his arm. Ffrewgí must have seen Murchadh fall and had thrown his entire weight onto his end of the rope to catch him. Murchadh owes his life to Ffrewgí.

Murchadh shakes his head with a smile and throws himself at the rock, climbing now with new confidence.

* * *

The moon is gleaming as the last shreds of colour fade from the western sky. Ffrewgí tears down the flag and looks at Asgell with a blank stare, as if willing her to not make them climb back down the way they came.

She gestures to the south as she says, “There’s the hiking trail. We’ll take that way back. We need live recruits and it would be nice to not have to replace you.”

The group sets off south across the flat peak. Murchadh is tired, and the right side of his body aches from exertion unlike any he has ever experienced. As they start off down a clearly marked trail, he turns to Ffrewgí. “Thank you, I owe my life to you.” Too tired to wait for a reply and barely aware of anything but his sore body and exhaustion, he falls into a walking rhythm and loses himself in the hike back.

The sky is black, dotted with stars, when they reach camp and are fed and led to new sleeping quarters---small tents, barely big enough for two children. He finds himself back with Anwen. She is already asleep. He falls asleep instantly upon lying down, hoping tomorrow will be better.

#murchadh #chapter four

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