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#that's it that's the only reason i drew all of this
littlelightfish · 2 days
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Holm nation... I have a heartbreaking announcement to make.
We didn't get to see this panels animated.
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(I wanted to see Laios helping him, this one isn't the one this post is all about)
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I feel it's important to his character enough that Kui decided to dedicate three panels about how he aproaches and resurrects Kabru.
He is used to resurrecting people, his party sucks at keeping themselves alive. He walks up to Kabru's corpse with a worried look on his face. Then he kneels besides him and takes a second to process what he is seeing. He is seeing a young man, Kabru, dead. It makes him feel unseasy, a bit of shock that he can't take the luxury of process at the moment. He doesn't want to look, so he closes his eyes and focuses on his spell. He is realizing he is the only one alive from his party (he doesn't know where Mick is or how he is). He is the last one standing. The reality of it all slaps him in the face.
The panel of him just... looking at the mess Kabru's corpse is was just... It was important. It talked about him as a character. "I'm not doing this because I want to, but because I have to". He doesn't has time for emotions. He has a job to do.
It's just three panels. But they provide lots of context between the ones that came before and after.
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He doesn't just rubs Kabru's head because he's being afective. He does it because he cares. He does it out of relief. "As long as I'm here, any of you'll be dying soon. And I'll always be here. Don't worry." He is far from being OK after all this. Marillier died, Daya died, Kuro died, Kabru died, Rin died, Mick probably died too (but he doesn't saw it). He... By the time he was the only one standing, the fight was over, and he could alredy resurrect them. He wants to feel sad. To worry, to be concerned, to mourn. But he can't. It isn't necessary.
He is a cleric. He for sure has a notion of dead way different than anyone and feels a certain way about resurrection. "Dying is dying, even if you resurrect." It's a bug at the corner of his mind, he doesn't pay it any attention. He gets resurrected multiple times, he is gratefull he is alive. But seeing all his friends dead? And the most of them mutilated? Covered in their own blood? He has this desire to mourn. To cry the loss. To panic. "They are all dead."
He knows they'll come back. He has to make them come back. So he does. And they are alive. But they weren't a few seconds ago. And he just plays it off, he puts his calm face on as soon as there is another party member alive that could ask him what happened that it disturbed him so much. He throws all those sad feelings under the rug and focuses at the task at hand.
They're going to be ok, he just has to do his job: bring them back from death. They shouldn't even be dead. But they are. And he's going to fix it. No point on feeling sad about them dying if they can be alive soon!
I think the concern that the anime puts here it's something that could come close to what he feels inside. Those seconds are the only ones we see him looking something akin to worried for his friends.
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But then...
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His worry vanishes in seconds. The moment Kabru revives, he does it in such a "Kabru" way, that he tells himself: "This is fine, they're going to be back soon, nothing to worry about, I just have to hurry". He wants them all back to live. We know for sure that in his priority list there wasn't any "reviving Toshiro's party members first". He was going to make sure all his party, all his friends, were alive before even thinking of resurrecting other people if he still had the magic.
Those three panels they didn't animate are something that was there for a reason. To give depth to Holm. This last episode is definitely the one in wich he shines the most. He isn't the main character at all this episode, but he does the most important stuff on the background. He revives them all. This all lack of something if you don't show what Kuy drew on those panels.
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Here he just... goes to work. He says: "lemme handle it" and he does. No concern, no worry, no, nothing. He just does. No thoughts.
It makes me sad. Those panels were important. :(
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coolprettyleo · 2 days
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no ones ever had me, not like you - ryan leonard
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wc: 1.6k
tw: talks of sex. talks of sex tape. old relationships. angst. lovebombing, etc. lmk if theres more.
ryan leonard x oc hughes sister au
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
frankie woke up suddenly, with her chest; rapidly breathing up and down. she had the worst dream that frankie hughes thought she could have; a sex dream. the only problem? it was about drew fortescue.
she felt awfully guilty due to the fact her boyfriend was soundly asleep next to her and here she was dreaming about her ex- situation ship?
I mean it's not like she still wanted drew. it was one of those dreams that you know has happened before and for some reason your mind wants to remind you it happened; but why?
she thought back and recounted the dream even though it made her cringe. she tried way to hard trying to impress him back then. she focused on what she remembered from the 'dream' or whatever it was, and her eyes widened when she realized there was a flash? a flash of what? a camera?
they had filmed themselves! she suddenly remembered as she gasped loud, waking ryan.
"wha- what!" he said as he spinged up and turned on the light, taking a good look at his girlfriend who looked nothing but guilty.
"you alright franks?" he asked after she just starred at him.
"uhm- ya. I just- just... had a-- nightmare?" she said coming up with a lie.
ryan eyed her for a moment before huffing and crawling back into bed,
"c'mere" he said before pulling her directly on top of him, something that he knew calmed and put his girlfriend to sleep as he rubbed her back. she hummed snugging her head into his neck. she loved- liked Ryan so much.
you cant love him already frankie! get a grip. you like him, alot.
___
it was the next morning and frankie didn't waste anytime and got up and ready for the day. she had one mission and that was; going to talk to drew. someone she hadn't spoken too since their last... meeting? she needed to know what happened to that video.
why had she forgotten? if that ever got out... her career, her brothers career, drew's career, hell even ryan's career would be over. the media would drag her and everyone who loved her through the mud. she wanted to cry just thinking about it, she needed to get that video wiped from existence.
she sped towards the hockey house knowing ryan was safe in class, away from the mayhem her mind was causing. she couldn't have him knowing about this yet, it could all just be; nothing.
he deserves to know it exist
she huffed before knocking on the door to the house hoping she would just be in and out; no one had to see she was even there.
god obviously had other plans because aram opened the door, and announced to will, gabe, jacob, and drew who were sitting around eating breakfast, that 'lady hughes' was here, as they nicknamed her. he stepped aside and motioned her inside.
"hey frankie, ryan's not here, we thought he was at your place?" will said as he grabbed her a chair and motioned her to sit,
"thanks but I'm not here for him. I actually needed to talk to drew" she said looking at drew, who choked on his cereal. frankie had been acting like he was non-existent since she got with ryan.
"i- i'm sorry?" he said coughing as everyone looked between the two with wide eyes.
"we need to talk... privately" she added when no one moved.
"does lenny know your here?" gabe asked, something that everyone was thinking.
"no. this has nothing to do with him. drew please" she said walking towards drew's room.
the guys looked at him with eyes as if they were all saying 'whats that about' and he shrugged before following the girl.
he entered the room and looked at her as she stood in the middle the room,
"do I shut the door... or-"
"yes please" she said quickly as he proceeded to shut it.
"I'm sorry" she said looking at him.
"for what?"
"for... everything. I mean-- I basically used you. and I thought, that you would one day like me back, and when you didn't, I just ghosted you and randomly popped out with one of your best friends, and I know how that looks. you must think I'm a slut, and maybe I am but I love ryan. I love him so much, which is why I'm afraid he's not going to like me anymore after he finds out about the video-- the video we made that one night, and I know you don't owe me anything, and I've acted like you were non existent-
"woah woah frankie? slow down. deep breaths okay?" he said as he cut off her rambling, and noticed she was crying.
"now... what are you going on about?" he said as she calmed down.
"the sex tape we made, drew" she said sniffing.
he starred at her for a moment; thinking as it came back to him,
"i deleted that once I realized we were done, for real" he said seriously.
"you did?" she said finally looking up at him.
"yeah... when I found out lenny liked you, I deleted it. it would be super weird to even still have that" he told her
"you can even go through my phone if you don't believe me, but I swear. I wouldn't do that to you, or ryan" he said starring at her for a second before holding up a pinky, something he knew frankie took very seriously.
"it's okay. I believe you-- but... did you ever tell or show anyone it?" she asked nervously rubbing her arms.
"no, I meant it when I told you it would stay between us"
frankie felt a huge weight come off her shoulders as she sighed.
"does ryan know that it existed?" he asked her.
"no, I'm scared to tell him. I really like him and I'm scared he's gonna look at me differently"
"look frankie, ryan's been in love with you since he met you, probably even more now that you've become this mature woman... and stop saying 'liked' you said you loved him earlier"
"I do. but I haven't told him and what if I say it to him and he doesn't say it back?" she said nervously
"well then you get rejected, you've been there before!" he said trying to cheer her up, something that made her throw a pillow at him.
"your an ass" she said laughing.
"look... I know we don't talk anymore, but I'm always here. I'll be a friend if you ever need one hughes" he said after a moment as frankie stood up.
"thank you forts, for everything. even rejecting me" she said as she brought him in for a hug.
they pulled apart as they heard the door open, revealing no there than ryan. who looked between them with a heart shattering look.
"ry-
"len-"
he shook his head before rushing down the stairs where the rest of the guys were.
"ryan, I need to explain-"
"you know, I really believed you when you said you were over him-"
"I am over him!"
"obviously!" he said pointing upstairs
"we were just talking-" drew tried to add
"SHUTUP" both frankie and ryan yelled at the poor guy in unison as ryan walked out of the hockey house.
"I'm over him ryan. i'm done having this fight-" frankie said following him, now just being the two of them outside.
"yeah? how could you be so sure?"
"because... I am. I.-- like you ryan." frankie said as she cringed, she couldn't tell him she loved him yet.
why not?
ryan frowned.
"well maybe you like two people then-"
"I know I don't like two people"
"yeah? how could you be sure?" he challenged
"because you can't love two people!" she said exhaustedly
this was enough to make ryan's world stop spinning, even if it was just for a moment.
"I love you ryan" she said sniffly as she walked closer to him, slowly as he smiled.
"yeah?" he teased her seeing as how red his girlfriend was getting. this was rare due to the fact the roles were always reversed between the two, whereas he was the one always getting red.
"you don't have to say it back or anything but I just need you to know that I love you. and I'm not saying this because I'm trying to make you forget that I was hugging drew earlier, but it's a long story- actually, it's not that long. look, if your gonna love me back, you need to know this. I made a sex tape with drew back when we were together, and I had totally forgotten until last night and-"
"a sex tape?" ryan asked again, as if he didn't hear right the first time,
"yes, but it doesn't exist anymore-- that's what a came to ask drew. I would never do... THAT to you" she told him
"why didn't you tell me you were coming then, I would of helped you or-"
"because-- I was scared you were gonna look at me differently, which I'm pretty sure you do now, anyways-"
"I do look at you differently now hughes" he told her as she looked down and fiddled with her fingers.
this was it, the only good thing you had in your life; you ruined.
"but only because when I look at you; now , I see the woman I love"
this made frankie look up as tears welled in her eyes.
"yeah?" she said pressing up against him.
"yeah." he said before smiling and wrapping his arms around her before he leaned down to kiss his girlfriend.
they pulled apart and leaned their foreheads on each other as they just smiled at one another.
"so you don't think i'm a whore" she asked
"never-- my girl likes sex, why would that be a problem?" he said as she playfully slapped his arm.
"your the best leonard" she said as she wrapped an arm around his neck and they walked sideways.
"your my favorite. pretty hughes"
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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 days
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── PEREGRINE // PROLOGUE
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Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.
Chapter Synopsis: You are invited to the wedding of an old friend.
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Series Masterlist
Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader
Chapter Word Count: 5.1k
Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters
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A/N: literally shaking as i post this because i have NOT been in the bllk fandom for long enough to be writing a fic for it but oh well #livelaughlove. some authors post new stories because they’re proud of their work. i post new stories because then when i write like shit i disappoint less people.
divider credits: @/benkeibear
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Seishiro Nagi had always been beautiful when he ran, albeit atypical in his form. He lacked the fierceness that the others on his team had, his feet never pounding against the turf the way theirs did, his strides never swallowing the ground in quite that same manner. Instead, his steps were light, like he was dancing, or perhaps flying, like he was a falcon diving across the field in pursuit of his next goal.
He was the only thing that could unite your entire miserable, shitty town. Everyone was outside that day, crowding in restaurants to crane their necks at the little screen in the corner, pressing together in the square to peer up at the projection of the tied match, which only had a few minutes left to go before the end of the second half.
Nagi had the ball. You weren’t really sure how he had gotten it, who had passed it to him or what maneuver he had used to get around the other team’s defense, but it was all irrelevant. He had the ball, and as he barreled towards the other team's goalkeeper, the entire town held its breath.
Even you, who were never supposed to have much interest in soccer nor in Seishiro Nagi, found yourself worrying your lower lip between your teeth, leaning forward slightly, clenching your fists by your sides.
“Come on, Nagi,” you murmured. “We’re so close. Come on.”
A few more steps and a strategic feint, and then he had made it behind the defenders. The town swelled with anticipation as victory became all but certain, as the clock ticked nearer and nearer to the moment when Nagi would pull off one of those impossible moves of his, where he would slam the ball into the net and win the game for his team once again.
But the moment never came. For some reason, right as he drew his leg back to shoot, Nagi froze. His foot never connected with the ball; instead, it slowly came back down to rest as he stared down at his muddy cleats.
“What is he doing?” someone said. The cheers turned to whispers as Nagi proved himself to be a statue, incapable of moving, of defending his possession, of scoring, of anything. He just stood there, and as one of the defenders stole the ball off of him and passed it to the opposing team’s striker, he did not make any attempts to turn around and make up for his mistake. He just stood there, contemplating something, a cloudy dreaminess settling over his eyes. It was the most disconcerting thing you had ever seen, that complete apathy in face of an imminent loss, that resignation to an eventuality which he himself had created.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” a man screamed, and then it was a mass chaos as the people who had been praising Nagi only seconds earlier turned to baying for his blood, demanding he never play again as a punishment for his great sin.
They got their wish. The next season, and the next, Seishiro Nagi spent every match on the bench, not even afforded the role of a substitute, no matter how tired the rest of the team grew without his relentless presence, how many games they lost when they did not have him to rely on.
That first season after his disastrous loss, he was made a mockery of. Every single news article was about his downfall, every reporter charting out with glee the exact moment that he had gone from the media’s darling to their newest scapegoat. By the second season, though, he was largely forgotten. There were more exciting things, newcomers who had entered the league and dominated matches with their own unique styles, and so when it became clear that Nagi would not give them the reactions that they were hoping for, the journalists turned to talking about those players instead.
After that, he stopped going to games entirely.
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There was another woman in your bed. You could hear her shuffling footsteps, the way your fiancé hushed her, her giggles as she ducked into some hiding spot or another, likely behind his neatly pressed work suits. You could picture it now — such a domestic scene it must’ve been. His arm, wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her to the closet. Her fingers, still working themselves free from his light hair. His eyes, a bright amber that would be glimmering from the thrill of the near-miss. Her cheeks, which would be flushed from the shame of your early return home.
You sighed, pursing your lips and then undoing the knot of the ribbon holding together the bouquet of flowers in your hand. Pouring a cup of water into a crystal vase, you arranged the flowers carefully in it, making sure you did not prick your fingers on the thorny stems as you waited for your fiancé to come thundering down to greet you.
“Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be home so early!” he said, leaping off the bottom stair and waltzing into the kitchen, discreetly wiping his hands against his pants.
“Hey, Ryosuke,” you said. “No worries. I was actually just about to head out again; I had thought I’d wash the sheets tonight, but I think we’re out of detergent, so I’m going to run to the store and grab some.”
“Ah, okay,” he said. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
“About an hour,” you said. “I think I’ll stop by Chigiri’s on the way back.”
“Chigiri’s?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you need from him?”
It was ironic. There the two of you were, both pretending like he wasn’t hiding a third in your bedroom, and yet you were the one who was facing his accusations, who was under suspicion for no other reason than because you wanted to visit your friend.
“I lent him our blender because his broke, remember?” you said. “I was going to see if he’s gotten a replacement yet or not.”
“I see,” he said, relaxing only slightly. “Well, don’t delay on my part, I guess. See you soon?”
“See you,” you said. “I’ll text you when I’m about ten minutes away. If you could warm up the leftovers in the fridge, I’d appreciate it. I’m a little hungry.”
“Of course,” he said. “Bye!”
“Bye,” you said. Once, he would’ve pressed a kiss to your cheek, or maybe even to your lips, but now, he only waved at you before bounding back up the stairs, calling out some excuse about folding his laundry over his shoulder. You watched him go for a moment, wishing you could chase after him and demand he love you again, demand he love you the way he used to, but it would be pointless. You were unconvinced that things would ever be that way again.
One of the lights in the store near your house was broken. It would flicker back to life periodically, struggling to stay lit, but its attempts were stuttered and pitifully in vain. It worsened the migraine building behind your temples, and you narrowed your eyes as you reached the laundry aisle and picked up the cheapest, smallest bottle of detergent you could find.
“You should get that light fixed,” you said to the cashier. He didn’t even look like he was out of high school yet, and as he scanned the bottle, he muttered something about how you should’ve just used the self-checkout line instead.
“I’ll tell my manager,” he said when it became clear that you were waiting for a response. “Cash or card?”
“Card,” you said, tapping it against the screen and signing your name with the attached stylus. “I don’t need a bag.”
“Have a nice day,” he said robotically, mechanically. “Next!”
The woman behind you, who was juggling a screaming baby, a whining child, and a week’s worth of groceries, began to try and empty her cart, but her child kept tugging at her arms and her baby kept crying and she kept dropping things, so it was altogether a pointless effort. The cashier let out an aggravated sigh, barely even sparing you a nod as you tucked the detergent in your pocket.
You furrowed your brow as you watched the woman, wondering if that was to be your future. Once you married Ryosuke, once you became Mrs. Kira, then wouldn’t children be the natural next step? Certainly, that’s what your parents would say.
“Hey,” you said to the child, tapping her on the head as she pulled on her mother’s sleeve once more. Upon feeling your touch against her hair, she froze, looking up at you with wide eyes. “I really like your hairstyle. Did you do it yourself?”
Her hair had been tied into two pigtails and then messily plaited, small pink bows decorating the end of each braid and matching her shirt. She peered at you owlishly, confused enough to quiet down for a moment. Her mother shot you a grateful look as her one hand was freed so that she could start to actually deal with her groceries.
“My mommy did it,” the girl said, stumbling over her words. “For school.”
“It’s very smart,” you said. “I bet everyone in your class was jealous.”
The girl thought about this before nodding. “Yeah, they were.”
“I’m glad I finished school already,” you said, pretending to shiver. “If I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have known what to do if you showed up looking like that!”
“Did your mommy not do your hair for you?” the girl said. You thought back to your own mother, your own days at school, and then you shook your head.
“She tried,” you said. “But no matter how elaborate the hairstyles she gave me were, they could never measure up to what you have right now.”
“Why not?” she said.
“Because,” you said. “I think your mother worked really hard on them, and that’s the most important thing. You should remember to say thank you to her when you can.”
“I always say please and thank you,” she said proudly, beaming at you, her two front teeth missing. “Mommy says it’s good manners.”
“Those are very good manners,” you agreed. “Now, it looks like your mother’s done with checking out. Let’s go to the car with her, alright?”
The girl nodded and darted ahead to grab her mother’s hand. Her mother sighed, going to free her hand from her daughter’s grip, but you stopped her.
“I’ve got it,” you said, picking up her grocery bags in both hands and nodding at the door. “Which way is your car? I’ll walk you there.”
“Oh, you — you don’t have to!” she said, fumbling in the face of the offer. “I can do it.”
“I don’t doubt you can,” you said. “But you shouldn’t have to. I’ll follow after you.”
Maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision for the woman to trust a stranger, but there was a sort of bone-deep exhaustion burrowing into her that must’ve made her accept the offer. So she only nodded at you and began to stride towards her car, unlocking it and opening the trunk so that you could put the groceries in it while she buckled her children into their respective car seats.
When she was distracted, you snuck the laundry detergent into one of the bags. It wasn’t as if you needed it; you had just gotten some the other day, and that had been the brand you preferred, too. The entire outing had just been an excuse for you to leave the house for enough time that Ryosuke’s new girl of the week could sneak out, as if she had never been there in the first place.
“Thank you so much for your help,” she said when you pressed the button to shut the trunk, stepping back and watching it slowly lower. “Er, what’s your name?”
“Y/N,” you said, offering her your hand. She accepted it, shaking it so furiously it was a wonder your arm did not fly off.
“Thank you so much, Y/N. They’re so exhausting to bring along, but I have no other choice. I know it must be so irritating to the other shoppers, but…” she trailed off in defeat, her head hanging low. “I really do have no other choice. My husband’s always busy, and we can’t quite afford a babysitter or a nanny or anything like that, so they’re always with me.”
“It’s okay,” you said. “You have the right to be there, too. I hope you can always find help when you need it.”
“Thank you,” she said again. “You, too.”
“Thanks!” you said, waving at her as you made your way to your own car, only allowing your smile to drop once you were far enough that she wouldn’t notice the way it had disappeared.
You spent the drive to Chigiri’s in silence, muting the radio and amusing yourself with watching the street lamps turn on as it grew progressively darker out, their orange glows piercing through the misty night like cheerful planets, so at odds with your glum mood.
Wouldn’t Ryosuke be like that? Because of that one chance encounter, you could envision your future so clearly. It would be exactly the life that that woman led. You would have those children that he and your parents had always wanted, and you would care for them, and all the while, he would run around and sleep with any girl he could get into his bed, his existence entirely unaffected even as yours had been wrecked.
“So,” Chigiri said, stirring a spoonful of honey into the tea he had prepared for himself, his right leg extended on the coffee table before him. “When’s your wedding with that peacock bastard, anyways?”
You took a sip of the tea he had so graciously made for you before responding, taking the moment to mull over what you’d say as the liquid scalded your tongue.
“Lately, it seems like that’s all anyone ever asks me,” you said.
“It’s a pretty typical question to ask someone who’s engaged,” he said.
“That’s true,” you said. “Well, I don’t know when it is. We haven’t picked a date or made any concrete plans yet.”
“Geez, what was the point of proposing, then?” he said.
“You’ll be the first to hear when it happens,” you said.
“Really? Not Reo?” he said. You considered this.
“The second to hear,” you amended. He pretended to scowl at you, though it was half-heartedly done.
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Though, I guess it does kind of make sense. Nobody hates Kira as much as I do, so you’d probably want to share the news with someone a bit more supportive.”
“It’s about time you let old grudges die,” you said. Chigiri glanced at his right leg before shaking his head.
“No way,” he said. “I’ll never forgive him.”
“It wasn’t even his fault,” you said weakly, though you knew it was just another rendition of the same argument you and he had had so many times before, the same argument that the two of you would probably keep having until you both stopped being friends altogether.
It was bound to happen. There was no way that you could stay friends with Chigiri in any way that lasted. Not as you were currently. Not as who you would soon become. That kind of person didn’t deserve to be friends with someone like Chigiri, who was always so bright and gentle, who even now was frowning slightly because of you.
“Whatever,” he said. “I won’t bring it up at your wedding. That’s the best I can give you.”
You thought that you should probably smile or thank him, but the thought of your impending wedding caused a lump to form in your throat, and it was all you could do to swallow it back without tears forming in your eyes. You gulped down the tea, hissing when it burnt your mouth, glad for the tears which sprang to your eyes and disguised the moment of weakness.
“Sorry,” you said to Chigiri, who only snorted and handed you a napkin to dab at your lips with. “Speaking of which, do you think you’d be okay with wearing a dress and being one of my bridesmaids? I’m woefully lacking in the department.”
“No,” Chigiri said. “Please, make some friends. It’ll actually be embarrassing if you have no one on your side of the wedding.”
“Sorry, but some of us had better things to do in high school than socializing,” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it in one hand and glared at you before chucking it back, full-force. It landed at your side, narrowly avoiding smashing into your face, and then it was your turn to glare at him.
“For your information, I also had better things to do, but somehow, I made time to get to know people,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? Name three of your friends,” you said. He opened his mouth, but you stopped him before he could speak. “Not me, not Reo, and not May.”
He closed his mouth. “Okay, you got me there. Maybe I was more focused on soccer than I realized…”
“Maybe,” you said, though your tea suddenly tasted sour at the mention of soccer.
“I’ll wear a dress if you’ll wear a suit and draw on a mustache at my wedding,” he offered.
“Um, no,” you said.
“Then I guess we’ll both be embarrassed,” he said.
“That’s even assuming you find someone you like enough to propose to, and that that person says yes,” you said.
“I will!” he said. “Just you wait. I’ll make you eat your words!”
“Whatever you say,” you said. “I still think you’re going to die alone, by the way.”
“Better than living with that excuse for a man that you plan on marrying,” he said.
Just like everything else regarding your relationship with Ryosuke, your protests were false and weak. You didn’t mean them. In fact, you even agreed with Chigiri, but if you didn’t speak up, then who would? If you didn’t say something, then all of the time you had spent with him would’ve been a waste. Everything would’ve been a waste, and that was something you could not allow.
“I’m back!” you called out as you re-entered the house, though you knew that even Ryosuke wasn’t foolish enough to risk being caught when he had had so many advance warnings and so much time to prepare for your arrival.
“There she is!” he said, grinning up at you from the dining table, not even a guilty twinge to his words as he spoke — not that you had been expecting any. “Your food’s on the counter, babe.”
“Looks good,” you said, picking up the plate and sitting across from him, picking at the pasta with a fork, pushing it around without lifting any, unable to bring yourself to actually eat it. “You didn’t have to cook, though. There was stuff in the fridge.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” he said. “Can’t I do nice things for my favorite girl every now and then?”
You knew what that clever wordplay implied. His favorite girl, but not his only. You supposed he must’ve been proud of it, of that private joke made for an audience of exactly one.
“I guess there’s no reason why you can’t,” you said. “It’s good.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Now, listen, I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?” you said, preparing yourself for him to say that he wanted to move again or that he wanted to get rid of your cat or something equally as preposterous, as he often did when he started his sentence off with that particular phrase. “And what about?”
“We’ve been engaged for a while,” he said.
“Yes,” you said cautiously, internally cursing Chigiri, believing that he must’ve spoken this entire conversation into existence with his playful inquiries from earlier.
“So we should probably pick a date for the wedding and start preparing for it and all, don’t you think?” he said.
No, you wanted to scream at him. No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to. Nothing has to change. Don’t let it change.
You were saved from having to answer by your cell phone ringing. Without apologizing, you picked up, because there were very few people who would ever call you, and almost all of them were more important than Ryosuke.
“Y/N L/N,” a familiar voice said. Every bit of despair which had crept over you vanished in an instant at that sound, and this time when you smiled, it wasn’t forced.
“Reo!” you said. Ryosuke frowned, but you ignored him. “How late is it over there?”
“It’s early, actually, but it’s okay. I was waking up to go to the gym, anyways, and I figured I’d call you while I’m at it,” he said.
“That makes sense. What’s up?” you said.
“Can’t I just have called you because I miss you so much?” he said.
“You could have, but you wouldn’t,” you said. “What’s the real reason?”
“You’re annoying,” he said.
“Mhm,” you said.
“Fine, yes, I was calling you for a reason, but I do also miss you a lot, so don’t think I don’t!” he said.
“I wouldn’t dare,” you said.
“You know how I proposed to May a couple of years ago?” he said.
“I was there,” you reminded him. “And by the way, you’re lucky I was! The whole reason I went to college abroad was so that I had an excuse to never return to that place, so for you to go back and live there has really been inconvenient.”
“I can’t help that this is where our corporation’s headquarters are,” he said awkwardly. “I kind of have to live here.” You scoffed.
“Whatever. I’m not going to visit again, so if that’s what you’re calling about, then you might as well hang up,” you said.
“Seriously? Nothing can convince you to come?” he said, letting out a chuckle, the cocksure one he had inherited from his father. It was the one thing you hated most about him, but he had never managed to break the habit, no matter how many times you pointed it out.
“Nope,” you said. “Nothing.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Ryosuke said. You waved him off dismissively, mouthing tell you later at him when he pouted grumpily.
“Not even your own best friend’s wedding?” he pressed. You paused, taken aback by the sudden turn.
“What?” you squealed. “Like, an official wedding? You have the day picked out and all?”
“Calm down, woman, it’s not that serious,” he said. You could hear his wince through the phone, but you were too excited to care.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you said.
“So, funny thing, that’s actually what I’m doing right now,” he said. You clicked your tongue.
“Shut up,” you said. “I can’t believe you’re actually getting married. It feels like just yesterday I was introducing the two of you.”
“I know,” he said fondly. “We’ve been arguing the whole time about whose side of the wedding party you’ll be on. At the moment, I think I’m winning, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”
“You guys just assumed I would come?” you said.
“Will you not?” he said. You glanced at Ryosuke, who raised his eyebrows at you.
“Give me a second,” you said.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” he said. You put the phone on mute and set it on the table.
“Reo and May are getting married,” you said. “Soon. They want me to come.”
“Of course they would. You’re best friends with both of them,” Ryosuke said. You waited for him to reassure you, to tell you that he knew it would be hard for you to go back to your hometown but that the two of you could get through it together. However, he didn’t. You weren’t even sure why you had waited in the first place. You had known that he wasn’t that person anymore for a very long time now. Maybe it was just an old habit that you couldn’t let die quite yet. Maybe you would always be waiting for him.
“I should go, then,” you said.
“Obviously,” he said. “And I’ll come this time.”
“Naturally,” you said, because it would raise too many questions if you didn’t bring your fiancé to your best friend’s wedding. It had been bad enough when he hadn’t come with you the last time, but you had managed to soothe everyone’s concerns with stories about work being too much, how he would’ve loved to visit but had such a strict boss that he just couldn’t.
As per usual, those had all been lies. You had been the one to demand he stay back. You didn’t tell him the reason, because it hardly made sense to you, but the truth was that the thought of Ryosuke walking through the streets that had once belonged to someone else was counterintuitive. Wrong. Those steps were not his to make. That secret was not his to tarnish.
“What’s the verdict?” Reo said when you unmuted the phone and held it back up to your ear. Ryosuke leaned over and gathered your dishes, taking them with his own and turning on the sink, running them under the water, drowning out the sound of your voice.
“Don’t ask that as if you don’t know the answer, idiot,” you said. “It seems you got lucky once again. I’ll be there, and so will Ryosuke.”
Reo choked audibly. “Ryosuke? Do you mean Kira?”
“We’ve been engaged longer than you and May have. Don’t you think it would be a little weird if I still called him by his surname?” you said.
“That’s true. I was just surprised you’re still with him, but I shouldn’t have been. Sorry,” he said. “Is he going to be your plus one?”
“Again, he is my fiancé,” you said, glancing over to where he was humming to himself as he scrubbed the sauce off of the plates. Your heart panged at the sight. Sometimes, you thought that you were being unfair to him. You would hate and hate him, and then he would do something that would remind you why you had ever loved him in the first place. “Who else would I bring?”
“I don’t know, Chigiri?” he said. “You talk about him way more than you do Kira.”
“He’s my friend,” you said. “I just spend more time with him.”
“Hey, it’s not my business. If you want to have an affair, then that’s your prerogative. Although, given the history between those two, Chigiri might not be the best choice…” he said.
“You suck,” you said as he burst into laughter.
“Kidding, kidding. Anyways, May beat me to inviting Chigiri, so he couldn’t be your plus one regardless, since he’s a traitor,” he said.
“Who says I won’t decide to be on May’s side after all?” you said. “She’d probably make me her maid of honor.”
“Uh,” Reo said. “If that’s the case, then you should definitely be on my side.”
“Why is that?” you said.
“I mean, you know how the maid of honor and the best man usually spend a lot of time together?” he said nervously.
“Sure,” you said, although you really didn’t, considering you hadn’t been invited to very many weddings before, and certainly none where you had been the maid of honor.
“Well, there’s no gentle way to put this,” he said.
“Just spit it out,” you said.
“Um, just know that I really love you a lot,” he said. “But I already picked my best man.”
“How is that something you’d need to put gently? Considering my lack of ‘man’ qualifications, I wasn’t exactly expecting to get the role,” you said.
“It’s Nagi.”
Unbidden, your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your initial burst of shock quickly settled, and you realized it made enough sense that you shouldn’t really question it. “Okay.”
“I know you guys didn’t get along in high school and all, but he was the only one I could think of,” Reo said.
“Okay,” you said.
“But you’re my best friend, too, and don’t you dare forget that!” he continued.
“Reo,” you said, but he was too busy rambling to notice.
“Just please get along with him. For my sake! And May’s, if you decide to be her maid of honor,” he said.
“Reo,” you tried again.
“You don’t even have to be friends! Just mutually ignore one another or something, it’ll go much smoother that way. Or, well, if you’re the maid of honor and he’s the best man, I guess you can’t really ignore one another, so that’s a dilemma…wait, I know! You can treat him like he’s just one of your coworkers—”
“Reo!” you said, finally growing frustrated enough to cut him off. “It’s okay. High school was years ago. Neither of us is going to let the past impact the present, I’m sure. You have more important things to be stressing out about; this shouldn’t even be on your list of worries, man. You’re getting married!”
“You promise?” he said.
“Promise,” you said.
“I’m serious. I don’t want any fights or anything. Whatever hatred you had for him, put it behind you,” he said.
“I did that already,” you said. “Many years past. I’m not a teenage girl anymore. People from back then don’t bother me.”
“Not even your parents?” he said.
“Low blow, Mr. Mikage,” you said. But of course, he didn’t even know the half of it, so how could you blame him for what he had surely believed to be a harmless joke? “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to them in a while, either.”
“Have they even met Kira yet?” he said.
“No,” you said.
“Great, then you can introduce him to them! It’ll be a double-win type of trip,” he said.
“Right,” you said. He sounded so happy that you couldn’t bear to tell him the truth, that the thought of introducing Ryosuke to your parents was actually akin to torture. Besides, what would he do if you did tell him? It was something he could never comprehend.
“Now I can’t wait!” he said.
“Me, either,” you said. “And Reo?”
“Yes?”
“Tell May I’m choosing her side,” you said.
“What? You seriously want to risk possibly being the maid of honor, even after everything I told you?” he said.
You thought about what the role might entail. Who the role might entail. And then you looked over at Ryosuke, who was putting the leftover pasta back in the fridge. He locked eyes with you and then jokingly scrunched his nose. You thought you might’ve found it endearing when you had first met him.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
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Foxglove
(Written by me. Originally published by Literary Times Magazine.)
I didn’t mean to summon the ghost.  Okay, I meant to, but I regretted it.
My friend Cyprus knew it was a bad idea from the start.  “You talk this way about every girl for two weeks, then you move on to someone else.  Just put a curtain over the portrait and forget about it.”
“I can’t.  Thinking about her hurts, and just the prospect of not thinking about her hurts more.  I dream about her pretty much every night.”
Cyprus closed his eyes.  His gold-rimmed glasses made him look like he was from another century.
I leaned across the table, making my eyes big.  “You can do it, right?”
“I’ve only recreated the ritual in a classroom setting, and only for animal spirits.”
“You’re a straight-A student.”
“That doesn’t mean I can do it.”
But he could.  
Ever since I moved here, the portrait of the actress had smirked down at me like a vixen.  She’d died young, in the early 1920s – this house is split into condos now, but it used to all be hers.
After my last breakup, I looked up photos of her.  She was most active during the 1910s, when stage actresses had a kind of dreamlike beauty: long tresses of dark hair, and huge, dewy, downturned eyes in the middle of a misty face.
I put the laptop down and went to bed thinking about her.  I dreamed about her pressed against me, warm and alive.  Since then, I couldn’t stop.
Cyprus showed up with a briefcase and his cat.
“Before I start, you should know I’m not doing this for you.”  He put his cat carrier in the center of the room.  He drew the sigils around it in chalk.  He set up the candles.  “I’m doing this because my professor said I could use it as an extra credit assignment.”
“It won’t hurt your cat, right?”
“I would never endanger General Pawshington.”
He had me sit cross-legged on the floor, then drew sigils around me too.  
Then he opened his briefcase and took out a yellowed sheet of paper.  “I can only say the words and perform the gestures,” he said.  “Your yearning has to be strong enough to call her here.  And then if she doesn’t want to stay, she can leave.”
“Got it.”
He started to chant, making swift finger motions, and I snickered.  
He paused.  “You have to think about her, or it won’t work.”
“Sorry.”
This time when he started to chant, I kept my eyes fixed on her portrait.  Even when she began to materialize over the cat carrier – out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the shape of a tiny hurricane, twisting into the shape of a woman.  I felt like if I looked at her, she’d vanish.
I imagined a relationship with a ghost.  A ghost would never change – if they wanted change, they wouldn’t be here.  They usually stayed tethered to one place.  I imagined coming home to her day after day, her tether to the outside world.
“No,” she screamed.  “No!”
I looked over at her.  She was as beautiful as her pictures, her black dress fading into gray mist at the skirt.  But she didn’t look sad or bemused, like she did in her photos.  She looked furious, the whites showing around her pupils, her dainty mouth twisted in rage.
She looked between me and Cyprus.  “Why would you do this?”
“I love you,” I blurted, at the exact same time Cyprus said, “Extra credit.”
She screamed so loud the cat hissed and the windows seemed to shake.
“Um,” I said, looking to Cyprus for guidance.
He didn’t look back.  Just stared up at her with fascination and regret.
She dematerialized, dissipating into mist that seemed to scatter against the ceiling, maybe through it.
“Was that…supposed to happen?” I asked.
“Some ghosts react badly to being summoned.  But if she’s unhappy here, she can return to the afterlife.”
She did not, for whatever reason, return to the afterlife.
It turned out that being haunted was not a fun experience.  I thought if I could just tell her about myself, she’d like me as much as I thought I’d like her, but she wasn’t interested in that.
She slammed doors.  Chilled rooms.  Flung objects.  Sobbed in the night.
“Can you please just talk to me?” I pleaded, after being woken up at 3 AM for the third time that week.  “I’m sorry!  I just wanted to meet you, that’s all!”
You know how when you’re in bed, you sometimes look up at the ceiling fan and picture it falling?  Well, that’s what happened next.  Fortunately, no bones were broken.
Cyprus’s extra credit assignment became his thesis project.  He came back as my neighbor was complaining to me about the new “poltergeist problem,” unaware I was responsible for it.
“And who are you?” the neighbor asked Cyprus.  “An exorcist?”
“Close.  I’m a student from the Providence College of Necromancy.”
“Great.  A student.  They always send kids to solve adult problems these days.”
Inside, Cyprus called, “Foxglove!”  For some reason, I don’t think I ever thought to address the actress by name.  “Foxglove, you have to stop, or they’re going to send an exorcist to get rid of you.”
She materialized out of the air like mist – the first time I’d seen her since we’d initially summoned her.  She really was so beautiful, her dark hair floating around her like a dream.  “It’s not fair,” she said.  “It’s my house.”
“I know,” he said, sadly.  Well, sadly for him.  He had a catlike way of emoting.
“I remember Heaven in flashes.  I don’t think you’re supposed to remember it while you’re on Earth,” she said, sounding frustrated but relieved at having someone to talk to.  “I want to go back so badly, but I don’t want to leave my life again.  All I can do is yearn for what I had before.”
“Maybe you can tell me about your life,” said Cyprus, not disguising the interest in his voice.  “I could write it down, and publish it.  And people could read about you.”
Her eyes looked sad, dewy, and hopeful, like they did in the portrait.  “I’d like that.”
I felt sidelined, like a third wheel.  It bothered me that she forgave his selfishness just because he was open about it – I wanted someone I could love, he wanted an extra credit assignment.
My goal was selfish too, in the context that I’d pulled her away from her life – or afterlife – in the hopes that she’d be a part of mine.  But wanting something to love wasn’t supposed to be selfish.  And if it was, that was supposed to be forgivable, if only because it was so human.
I’d apologized.  He hadn’t.  He was open about his self-interest, his fascination with the predicament he’d created.  But I could tell that if she forgave one of us, it would be him.  If she fell in love with one of us, it would be him.
That night, he stayed over to listen to her talk about her childhood, her poverty, her discovery.  About dancing and singing and playing Lady Macbeth, before performances were immortalized on film, when acting was still ephemeral.  About the day after she did too much laudanum and drifted under the surface of the tub.
She wanted to pull herself back past the surface, but she couldn’t.  She just couldn’t will her limbs to move.  “They say that those who take their own lives can’t get to Heaven,” she mused.  “I did.  But maybe that’s because I really wanted to live.”
Cyprus was listening, his recorder on the table next to him, taking notes.  He was interested in every word, wanting to capture as much as possible.  His intense curiosity, the Victor Frankenstein in him, was what made him a great student.
“I have some more questions I want to ask, about certain aspects of your life,” he said, switching off his recorder.  “Can I come back Thursday night?”
“I’ll be here,” she said.  Her dress had turned from black to white, and the mist she emanated had paled.
I could have tried talking to her.  
Instead, I called my ex, and told her what happened.
“It’s just like with me, James,” she sighed.  “You wanted her till she was a real person.”
It was true.  I’d never met a girl I could love more than an idea.
“It’s lonely for me too,” I said.
“I know.”
“Why do you think it’s so hard to love someone right?”
“Because when you do, it becomes something you want to give to them, not something you want to take.”  She said it like she’d been thinking about it for a long time, waiting for someone to ask.  “I think that’s why we spend most of our lives learning how to do it.”
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Shitten Shenanigans AU – The Fall of Death
Lamb heaved deep shuddering breaths as they glared at the now diminished form of Nar- The One Who Waits. Their body throbbed with pain and their heart was pounding so hard they thought it might burst from their chest, but all of that paled in comparison to the sheer rage that thundered through their veins.
How DARE HE?!
HOW DARE HE AFTER ALL HE AND HIS SIBLINGS HAD PUT THEM THROUGH?!
WAS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT THEIR WHOLE SPECIES AND FAMILY HAD BEEN STOLEN FROM THEM THAT HE WOULD TAKE THEIR CHILD TOO?!
Lamb stalked towards The One Who Waits, their sword scraping against the floor, as he tried to sit up only for Lamb to stomp a harsh hoof in the middle of his chest, crushing him against the ground. He struggled against it weakly, glaring up at Lamb with bared teeth.
“You’ve supplanted me. A vessel no more, now a crowned deity, you damned lamb!” He hissed furiously. “Will you be a merciful coward or a vengeful false idol, you traitor?!”
Hefting the sword above their head, Lamb sneered down at their former divine patron. “For Asha, I would slay as many gods as I need too! Especially ones that betray me first.”
The anger suddenly drained from The One Who Waits’ face, leaving confused furrowed eyes, and he ceased struggling. “…What nonsense do you speak of?”
The sudden change of emotion stayed Lamb’s hand for a moment and for some reason, they answered. “You betrayed our deal first. You demanded the sacrifice of your most devoted follower, YOUR OWN CHILD! MY CHILD!”
Rage swiftly returned to The One Who Waits’ face and he snarled back, a sudden burst of energy as he shoved the hoof off his chest and reached for Lamb. “I’D NO SOONER SACRIFICE AYM AND BAAL THAN I WOULD ASHA, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! THEY ARE NOT MY FOLLOWERS, BUT MY STUDENTS! MY CHOSEN SONS AND CHILD! MINE!”
Lamb dropped the sword and dipped out of the way of the fallen deity’s grasp, flipping him over. “YOU CALL THEM YOUR MOST DEVOTED FOLLOWER! CONSTANTLY! ALL OF US DID!”
He managed to roll to his feet and dodged their own lunge. “I WAS SPEAKING OF YOU!”
The air seemed to still as the rage within Lamb’s snuffed itself out just as quickly as it had arisen when Narinder had first spoken of a sacrifice. “…What?”
Narinder snarled as he drew himself up, lacking the monstrous height he once had but still a good foot over Lamb. “You were my most devoted follower. It was your sacrifice I spoke of!” He paused for a moment as something akin to hurt intermingled with the rage. “You truly believed I would command such a thing upon my own? Even after I had given my word no harm should ever come to them under my protection.”
Lamb tilted their jaw up stubbornly, their anger growing anew yet at a much dimmer level. “You ordered the death of your own siblings. Why would it seem such a stretch?” They knew the answer as soon as they said it.
The hurt faded as rage covered it up again, the force of such causing Narinder to shake. “My siblings betrayed me and bound me! They committed genocide for fear of me! They deserved their fates as you well know!”
Lamb flexed their fingers. “…They were still your family once. Besides, why not simply say? Why call for your most devoted’s death when you knew that is what we called Asha?”
“I had thought you would have a modicum of intelligence to recognise it was not the child that I spoke of!”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on dressing up your orders, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”
“Why would you think I commanded you to leave the child with the rat if I wished for their death!?”
“You command a lot of contradictory things! Sacrifice a follower, resurrect them! Oh here’s a ritual to brainwash your followers but if you tell them to not consume strange substances, they’ll work harder at the cost of falling sick when you brainwash them!” Lamb stalked towards Narinder and jabbed a finger into his chest. “’Take Asha to Ratau’s then bring them here to die!’ is not out of character for you!”
He grabbed their hand and moved it to the side, gripping it harshly. “I sent Asha to that useless rat so that they would not have to watch! To see you sacrificed in my name would have caused them harm for how much they love you! For however much they adored your visits, they cried at every death!”
Lamb snapped their teeth in his face. “And what would you have told them?! When I never appeared again? Would you have told them the honest truth, that you had me killed? Or would you have lied to them as well?!”
Narinder grabbed them by the shoulders and shook them roughly as if to somehow rattle sense into them. “THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO NEED FOR YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN BY MY SIDE!”
“THE HELLS DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!”
“RESURRECTION, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! LIFE GIVEN ANEW WITH THE PROMISE OF ETERNITY AS MY WITNESS! A VOW THAT YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE TO RAISE ASHA OPENLY AND IN SAFETY UNDER MY WATCH!”
Silence reigned across the blazing field of the afterlife as the two stared at each other, their breaths intermingling as they panted. The Red Crown still discarded aside.
The pain started to creep in along the edges of Lamb’s vision. “…Swear to me it was me and not them.”
Narinder started to sway as the last vestiges of his own energy began to drain away, but even then pure honesty shone in his eyes. “It was always you, Lamb.” He seemed to be staying on his feet out of pure stubbornness and by the grip he still had on Lamb’s arms. “So what is to become of me now? Will you slay me like my siblings or are you a merciful coward?”
The crown finally returned to Lamb's head.
They reached out and grabbed him as he lost the fight against his injuries. Pulling him gently into their embrace, they slowly lowered to the ground and pressed a hand to his chest, summoning the indoctrination circle below him. They couldn’t help the way they tucked him closer to their body.
“If it makes me a coward to prevent my child’s sorrow at the loss of their father, then a coward I must be.”
Narinder sputtered a bitter chuckle as his eyes went hazy with pain and betrayal. “I will not forgive you.”
“Can you blame me for doing what I thought was to protect Asha?”
Silence again before something passed over Narinder's face and he closed his eyes.
"...No, vessel. I suppose I cannot."
With that, Narinder fell into the blackness of the teleportation, leaving Lamb alone in a field of damnation and the feeling of bitterness.
______
This.... was a lot less cracky than I thought it would be when I started. I was going do like a fade to black in the middle of the argument to the POV of one of the cultists who are watching what is essentially a marital spat between their leader and their god, but it didn't fit the vibe.
This Narinder never lies. He doesn't always tell the truth but he doesn't lie. Which is why Lamb took him at face value when he said he wanted to kill his most devoted and when he said everything here.
They're both too proud to have an actual conversation about this until they get locked in the confessional by the kids.
Narinder also feels a bit tame but, 1) he's currently in shock at the loss of godhood, 2) he just spent the past couple of years co-parenting with Lamb which bonded them closer than in canon and 3) its my au and I do what I want.
Asha is my shitten's name which fun fact means hope/wish/desire in Sanskrit (same origin as Narinder's name) and life/longevity in Arabic/ Swahili which I thought was cute.
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I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here
Harvey x gn!Farmer
Inspired by how Harvey goes from saying "I was hoping you wouldn't find me here" to "I was hoping you'd find me here" after marriage when you find him in the hedge maze. Y'all when I say I dropped everything out of nowhere, actual *hours* after getting that line, to write this, I mean it. Also not proofread bc as soon as I finished the sex-repulsion started rearing it's ugly head so if there're any typos lemme know lol
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, hand jobs, blow job mention, anxiety, embarrassment, blood mention, praise kink, slight dom/sub
Word Count: 1,863
Masterlist
AO3
"I was hoping you'd find me here." Bright blush illuminated Harvey's face even in the shadow of the looming hedges.
The farmer smirked. "Oh, were you?"
They pressed closer into his space, until the leaves behind his back were catching on the fabric of his green jacket, rustling with the disturbance of his weight. He nearly leapt out of his skin when their fingers curled around his belt loops, pulling him closer.
In the shadows of the moonlight, smirking like a cat staring down its prey, he could almost imagine them being a vampire. He gulped thinking about their teeth on his neck, biting down until they drew blood. And the hot press of their tongue lapping it up.
"What are you thinking about, darling?"
Their eyes glimmered like they knew exactly what he'd just been picturing in his mind. He felt warmth reach the tips of his ears and travel down his neck. He wasn't a stranger to intimacy, but he was all too aware of their location, and Maru just around the corner.
His spouse granted him the mercy of not having to answer as they slotted their lips over his, nipping at his lower lip. It only reignited the thoughts from before. He groaned softly, cupping their cheek and leaning into the kiss. They tasted like the breakfast he cooked for them that morning with their produce. Their skin was dusted with a fine layer of dirt, no doubt from tending to the fields before the end of the season. His thumb began brushing it away without thought, his other hand sliding up their arm to cradle their neck.
He gasped, eyes shooting wide open as the buckle of his belt loosened. The smirk from before was now a soft grin, sweet like their fresh maple syrup. “Do you want me to stop?” they whispered.
Everything in his mind said yes. They were in public for Yoba’s sake! Everyone in town was here. There was no telling when somebody could enter the maze and stumble upon them. People who were his patients, who knew him professionally, and the very few who knew him more personally.
He glanced over their shoulder.
They were in the dark… And everybody who wanted to do the maze was already in here, lost somewhere out of earshot… His only concern was Maru, but even she wouldn’t come this way unless she had reason to.
The farmer waited patiently, listening to his frantic heart as he made up his mind. Their hands were still, ready to finish undoing his belt, or to help readjust it back in place. If he asked, they’d grab his hand and drag them back home, back to bed in a mess of sloppy kisses and whispered praises.
“Harv?”
He blinked. With another anxious swallow to tamp down his fears, he kissed them again softly. “I want this,” he muttered against their lips. “I-I’ll try to be quiet.”
They kissed him back sweetly. “Good boy.”
The pet name immediately sent chills down his spine, emboldened by his belt being fully undone and his trousers being unbuttoned. It wasn’t long before their hand pushed into his pants and wrapped around his hardening cock. He keened as quietly as he could manage into their mouth. They happily swallowed up the sound with another kiss.
Their thumb stroked over his slit, spreading the beads of precum already leaking from him. He felt a bit silly, truth be told, like a teenager who snuck out to see his partner in the dead of night, hiding under school bleachers to make out. It made him feel young again. He could almost imagine himself when he was younger, head still set on becoming a pilot despite everything going against him, with a paramour of his own, on a secret, late-night outing.
Though, his secret paramour being his spouse, who chose them despite every other eligible bachelor and bachelorette who pined for their affections, made this even better than in his fantasies.
They pulled away to kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Can you be quiet for me, baby?”
He nodded before his mind even fully comprehended the question.
Their kisses trailed further along his jaw, nipping just under his jaw where any marks wouldn’t be so easily seen. (If he were shorter, anyway.) They languidly pumped his cock in their fist as they loosened his tie next, fluidly unbuttoning the first and second buttons with nimble fingers and pushing his collar aside. Wet, open-mouthed kisses decorated his clavicle. Their tongue dipped in the hollow of his throat, before sucking over his Adam’s apple. When he swallowed, they grinned against it.
He bit his lip to remind himself to be quiet, breathing heavy through his nose as they unbuttoned a few of the middle buttons in his dress shirt and pressed their hand to his stomach, sliding around to his sides.
He shivered again. Their hands were calloused from farming for almost two years straight, rough and yet so gentle with him.
They squeezed the base of his dick before pumping around the head a few times. He whimpered, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any further sounds from slipping out. If he could, he’d be fully leaned up against the hedge, using it for support as they worked him with as much ease as they ran the farm. Unfortunately, to do so would be to fall into the branches shrouded in the mess of dark leaves.
They kissed back up to his ear, nibbling the lobe, teasing the flesh with one of their canines. He sighed shakily as the thought of vampirism shot to the forefront of his mind again.
“Where do you want to cum, baby?” They whispered against the helix of his ear. “In my hand?” They accentuated the words by dragging their middle finger along the underside of his cock, along the thick, sensitive vein. “Or my mouth?” They sucked his lobe into their mouth, swirling their tongue along it.
They were so close, they could hear and feel the effect they had on him. His heart was racing so fast and loud in his chest, he would have worried it was sounding like a drum throughout the whole town, calling everyone to their location, had he the mind for it. Instead, all he could think about was images of kissing them like a madman as he finished in their hand. Or the feeling of their hair in his hand as they swallowed around his cock, milking him until he was utterly spent. For as much as he would have loved seeing them on their knees before him, looking up at him, highlighted only by the moon in this dark alley of the maze, he feared it would completely destroy his ability to be quiet. Already, he was fighting to stay hushed, when all they’d done is touch and kiss him.
He pulled his hand from his mouth, shaking as he decided his answer. “H-Hand,” he breathed. “P-Please, honey, let me cum.”
They pushed their face into his hand to move it out of the way without having to stop feeling the hair on his chest or trailing down his stomach, or the soft fat on his sides. “I will, darling.” They kissed him long and sweet, but his mouth chased for more and more, passionate and needy as he cupped both their cheeks and pulled them closer, closer, closer.
He moaned and whimpered against their lips as they jerked him off faster. The sounds rumbled low in his throat, like a beast within him was being drawn out with their ministrations. They coaxed his mouth open with their tongue, the bitter taste of coffee mixing with their sweetness. The concerns about being silent slipped his mind entirely as he fast approached his orgasm. They diligently muffled his beautiful sounds, their own mind flooded with love and adoration for the man they chose to marry. Their wonderful, nerdy doctor.
His breath caught in his throat sharply. His hips bucked mindlessly as his cock twitched in their hand. They covered his tip with their palm, stroking just under the head with their thumb as they caught the hot strands of cum. As his dick softened, he sighed shakily against their mouth.
They pulled away first, making sure they got as much of his spend as they could before pulling their hand from his pants. Their hand left his shirt to cup his cheek. He smiled when he felt them trying to fix his mustache.
“Good?”
He nodded. “Really good,” he assured them. A new wave of blood rushed to his cheeks as he noticed their hand, awkwardly held and covered in semen. He removed himself from their hold to fish around his pockets for a packet of tissues. He pulled a couple out of the plastic and cleaned their hand, wrapping the soiled tissues in another protective layer of tissue. When he looked back up at their face, tucking the packet back into his pocket, they had a big, dopey smile on their face. “What?”
They laughed. “You, that’s what. I just didn’t expect you to have tissues.”
“I’m a doctor,” he offered as an explanation with an embarrassed chuckle.
“You’re adorable.” He began rooting around his pockets again. “Hand sanitizer?”
He must’ve been as red as a ripe tomato when he pulled out the small bottle of sanitizer. But they just chuckled and held out their hands, diligently rubbing it between each finger and down their wrists. As they did, he began putting himself back together. He rebuttoned his shirt, tucking it back into his pants to give the illusion that nothing happened. Then he zipped, buttoned, and buckled his trousers once more. His spouse finished cleaning their hands just in time to fix his tie, pressing a kiss to his chin when they finished.
“Ah, thank you, for that, by the way,” he stammered.
They adjusted his collar and smiled warmly at him. “Of course. It was my pleasure.” They grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the alley. “If you wanna wait out there, it shouldn’t take me long to get the golden pumpkin.”
He tugged on their hand, pulling them to a stop just before the entrance of the maze. His heart began racing again as he tried not to regret what he was about to say. “C-Can I go with you?”
“Are you sure?”
He looked down the path, toward where Maru meandered about, trying to gather her sense of direction. It was lit well enough… He tried to ignore the grabby hands peeking around the corner.
The farmer squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to, Harvey. I know you don’t like scary things.”
“I…” He took a deep breath, looking at them once more. “I want to. You make me want to be brave.”
They beamed up at him, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “Okay, if you say so. Don’t let go of my hand, right?”
He held on a bit tighter. “Right.”
Together, they marched into the haunted hedge maze.
Harvey stuck around with Abigail until the farmer came back with the prize.
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zorosprincess · 1 day
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Betrayal
PAIRING - Miya Osamu x Reader WC - 1.4K GENRE - Light Angst not really Crack Fic lbr CW - mentions of cheating
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"I'm sorry."
It was a whisper, a pathetic sentiment at the moment.
"Osamu, please, I'm sorry."
There was nothing else you could say. You knew that. You couldn't even look at his face. You looked anywhere you could besides him. Your fingers pulled lightly at a loose thread on the sleeve of your sleep shirt, the loose shirt that belonged to the man you currently couldn't look in the eye.
"S'that all ya have t'say?" The betrayed tone bled through Osamu's voice as he leaned against the wall across from you.
You were suddenly extremely aware of how uncomfortable your couch was in this moment. You averted your eyes again, focusing on the coffee table in front of you now. It was a pretty glass top one that Osamu and you had picked out together your first month in your little apartment together.
You almost smiled as you remembered how happy you and Osamu had been to decorate your apartment together. You didn't because you remembered that you were about to be in one of the biggest fights you'd ever been in with each other.
And it was your fault.
"What else am I supposed to say 'Samu?" There was nothing you could say.
"I didn't mean to?" You did mean to.
"I didn't know what I was doing?" You knew exactly what you were doing and how much it would hurt him if he found out.
"I didn't do it?" You both knew that wasn't true. You had been caught red-handed. He had walked into the room in the middle of it.
You sighed and hung your head again. Your eyes trained on the decorative rug under your feet. You slowly traced the design with your toe as you waited for him to respond.
"How could ya do that t'me?" His voice was soft and if you didn't know better you'd say he was about to cry. But you knew better and you knew that if Osamu was arguing with you and was going to cry, he'd wait until you weren't there. Thinking that crying would only make you feel worse. You could say that this time, you might deserve to feel worse than you already were. But he was always thinking about you. Even now. "I thought ya loved me y/n."
Your head shot up then, eyes connecting with his. His eyes were filled with genuine hurt and you could feel your heartstrings slowly snapping. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his muscles tensed and if the situation was different, you would have been simply admiring how absolutely attractive he was and how lucky you were to have him around. Instead- "I do love you!" You shouted, unintentionally being louder than you meant. You quieted yourself. He didn't deserve to be yelled at. "I love you so much Osamu."
He scoffed a little bit, turning his head to look away from you. "Ya love me so much." He drew out the 'so' and you flinched a little bit at the sarcasm in his voice. Tone biting into you. "That's why ya went and betrayed me like this!" His arm flung out and pointed towards the evidence of your betrayal as he yelled. You bit your lip, shame filling you. "If ya loved me ya wouldn'ta done it!"
"I'm sorry 'Samu!" You shouted back, losing your calm composure. "I don't know what I was thinking!" You sniffed a bit and gestured randomly as you continued. "You just weren't around! And it had been so long!" You threw your head back and groaned lightly, shifting your volume back down. "I don't know, I just couldn't wait anymore. I'm sorry 'Samu."
You lifted your eyes back to meet his as he looked at you incredulously. "Are ya kiddin' me!?" He was pissed now and you almost regretted your outburst. Almost. "Ya couldn't wait!? That's yer reason fer betrayin' my trust!" He laughed then, not a happy one that filled you with joy, not like the usual way he did. A bark of a laugh, one filled with irritation and sarcasm. "This is the last straw y/n! We're done!"
Your jaw dropped then. Amazed at the words that had just come out of the mouth of the man you swore you loved more than anything. "You're joking." He shook his head and crossed his arms again, looking away from you. You groaned in irritation. "You're being dramatic Osamu!" You were shouting without regret now. "It's not that big of a deal!"
"Dramatic!?" He looked back at you, jaw dropped. "Ya cheated on me!"
You rolled your eyes then, the last bits of your apologies draining. "I did not cheat on you!" You defended yourself to him.
"Ya betrayed me!" He shouted back, flinging his arms around to emphasize his point.
You ran your hands over your face in exasperation. "Now you're just actin' like 'Tsumu." You dug at him and watched as his jaw dropped at you. If he wasn't betrayed before, he surely was now.
"How dare-"
You cut him off. "It was just food, 'Samu! I'm sorry!" You went to stand from your position on the couch finally, taking a step towards him.
He stopped leaning against the wall in order to step away from you. That hurt. "Just food! I wake up 'spectin' to see my beautiful girl cuddled with me and 'stead find ya out here eatin' without me!"
"I tried to wait for you!" You raised your voice again. "You were the one not waking up! I thought I could get away with it before you woke up!"
"Ya thought ya could get away with it!?" You cringed as he mimicked back your choice of words, a bad choice. He pointed back to the evidence of your betrayal - an empty take out bag that you had door dashed to your apartment with the instructions to not knock and only text so that you wouldn't risk waking Osamu. "Didn't even think to get me somethin'!?"
"I'm sorry! Let me make it up to you please." You lowered your voice and he let you step closer. "I'll buy you whatever food you want from wherever you choose for the rest of the day." You could see his body visibly relax a little as he started to calm down.
You looked up at him and tapped on his collarbone lightly, trying to get him to look down at you and stop looking over your head to avoid you and your remorseful stare. "Forgive me baby?" He grumbled as you leaned up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, your usual indicator that you wanted him to lean down for a real kiss.
"Three days." He bartered with you, finally looking down and catching your gaze.
You hummed in thought before shaking your head. "Two. Take it or leave it."
"Fine." He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer at last. "You drive me crazy." He mumbled the half-hearted insult and pressed a soft kiss against your lips before releasing you.
Now that you two were done arguing, you could take a moment to appreciate the way he looked as he stepped back. Shirtless (stolen by your form) with his sweats hanging low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep. You smiled as you caught his eyes linger on your bare thighs, right where his shirt ended. He only rolled his eyes and turned away when he realized that he'd been caught.
"So, are we okay now?" You sing-songed as he started to walk back to your bedroom.
"You're still y/n for the next two hours." He threw back over his shoulder. "You don't get to be called Angel yet."
It was your turn to have your jaw drop in shock. "You never deny me of cute nicknames! You can't do that!" You scrambled to follow after him, not being able to see the smirk creeping onto his lips at your reaction.
"Ya compared me t'Tsumu." He wasn't honestly mad about it anymore, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find it cute to watch you pout at not being called by your usual nickname. He'd ;et you off the hook later, and make up for it at length.
"I said I was sorry!"
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a/n a rewrite of my first ever fic <33 i still love her
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georgescitadel · 9 hours
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George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones (1/3)
You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.
Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.
As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.
In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.
The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.
In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.
‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.
- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)
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secretdazedragon · 2 years
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80′s throwback!
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arinmoss · 1 month
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Sam!
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assassyart · 7 months
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Kirishima loves you. <3
Happy birthday, Kirishima! 💪
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tea-cat-arts · 3 months
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A reoccurring thought I had for a while now-
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On one hand, I'd like to think someone gave him a hug at least once in those 800 years. On the other, idk who Xie Lian would let himself be vulnerable with
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thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect
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wingsandpetals · 2 months
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yayyy ^_^ 🧽🐮🌸 (the accessories are heavily inspired by my plushie, spongeplush!)
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hikukastel · 2 years
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len.exe
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lunarharp · 5 months
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Very important conferences.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#some real serious discussions goin on in this atelier today. dont u doubt it.#agott is the only one who has ever thought about this because she is a 12 year old lesbian and UMM..FRIEND? LIKE FRIEND? IS THAT..LEGAL???#this is all i drew today because silly things like this take hours lol. at least it's practice for poses -_-#i got the pattern of the girls' dresses wrong but i couldn't be bothered to change halfway through.#don't worry if you're like what is the naakiwan downs. is that name even mentioned in the main manga#ANYWAY i KEEP thinking about what if it's actually banned for professors and watchful eyes to date like that would make a lot of sense.#like maybe it should be banned. SO??? are they just low-key Aware of what the deal is and they're just Putting their feelings aside#until graduation??? take my tassel as an unspoken reminder of how i feel?? living together trial period?? this feels like it's truly it#When we're free to be together........ Sensei loves homophobia parallels without there actually being homophobia#Let's invent reasons why men cant be together. Ummm well whatever. i'm screaming in my head but it's fine.#this will probably form the theme of my orufrey for a while. i've thought of this before but for some reason today it's big for me.#i guess the tassels might not specifically be a part of that since they exchanged them before tower of books#and qifrey made his mysterious decision to be a teacher after that and..well whatever. I need more of backstory and just..everything?#But i also don't mind when vinanna interrupts my wishes with just a chapter of just being really dreamy? I love witch hat?
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