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fourlium · 3 years

Text

Blink

I wrote this with the idea in my mind that we may all have been a Kang Sol A once in our lives. And that is not a bad thing. We may all have felt that we were only there to shine the light for the chosen ones or for the “bright”. You see, we all are equally-flawed. And that is, if that characteristic is even a flaw. But to set the point straight, we fill each other’s gaps. And to have someone like Sol A in our lives is to have another reason to brave tomorrow. So I may as well be a Kang Sol A, then.

This was inspired by back number’s song Mabataki or ‘Blink’ – which I cannot put into words how much I love. A part of this writing is my interpretation of the song itself, materialized through that of Sol A and Joonhwi’s being.

For you who have been hard on yourself. You are needed. You are loved.

Sol A and Joonhwi had just finished their Criminal Code class and the two is now heading to the legal clinic to help Professor Kim for another case.

“You think this will be another defamation case?”, Sol A asked the bright-eyed boy walking beside her.

Joonhwi flashes a teasing smile at Sol A proceeding to say, “I don’t think so. But if that’s the case I guess you won’t need me anymore since you are a master in that.”

Sol A stopped at her tracks and stared at the guy for 5 seconds or so and rolled her eyes at him before marching, heavily at that, towards the door of the legal clinic. A confused Joonhwi followed and hurriedly sat beside the sulking Sol A.

“What now? Why the long face?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“What did I do wrong now?”, Joonhwi paused, and with a realization, scooted closer to Sol A.

“Were you upset because of what I said earlier? It was a compliment, okay? All good, all genuine. I believe in you, you know that.”

After what seems to be Joonhwi’s main defense in court, Sol A just remained silent. She stood up from her seat after a while and began to walk back and forth the space as if thinking hard about something. After what feels like an eternity for Joonhwi, the girl finally spoke her mind.

“I’m sorry. I admit that it was about that. It is just that I’ve been stressed for the past few days, and I must have projected my pain on you. I’m sorry, Joonhwi-yah. And thank you for believing in me,” Sol A said in her most sincere, albeit nervous, self. With Sol A’s confession followed another silence that was composed of tension- from Sol A’s end- and soul-searching stares from the boy sitting in front of her.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I know you’re working on it, and I understand. Thank you for being honest with me.”

And after a mutual understanding through their eyes that seems to be a secret code for only the two of them, all is well yet again.

The two now is seated closer than before from each other while both of them stares at the clock that seems to be ticking at a slower pace than normal. Sol A eventually sighed, turning her head towards Joonwhi who was already looking at her.

“Do you want to listen to a song? I guess Professor Kim is taking time because of the traffic,” Joonhwi suggested while fumbling at his pants' pockets to grab his phone. Sol A then offered her earphones and all is set. Joonhwi insisted to pick the first song this time, contrary to him letting Sol A choose first whenever they are in this situation.

Happiness isn't the repeating cycle of night turning into

The bright morning as the stars fall

Rather, it's holding an umbrella for a special someone

As the rain falls on them

The song starts with the vocalist’s cool voice, yet Sol A felt warmth. Maybe it’s from the lyrics of the song transcending language barriers making her understand the Japanese words or maybe it was in the way Joonhwi’s hand made its way towards hers, softly linking their fingers together, which brings comfort in her stead.

It’s fine if there’s no answer

As to why we’re alive

As long as you want to protect

The person you want to see and the things you need

Without pushing myself and being humble

Just like this, if I were

To sing these dear feelings

The song went on the first verse after what seemed to be a magical instrumental. Sol A, although hesitant at first, clasped her hands tightly with Joonhwi’s. And then there was magic.

Happiness isn't the repeating cycle of night turning into

The bright morning as the stars fall

Rather, it's holding an umbrella for a special someone

As the rain falls on them

It’s not something you can find by refusing to blink

Or straining your eyes

So stay by my side

Joonhwi was silent but a knowing smile was apparent on his face after the verse finished. It is as if he’s learned the meaning of the song after a week of just this very song playing whenever he listens to music. Maybe he did search up the translation and understood it from there. Or maybe he understood it because of Sol A. Maybe it was because he found the personification of the song in the person his hands are clasped with now. Scratch that ‘maybe’. This time he was certain.

I couldn’t become a person who lived for their dream

A person who diverted away from the right path

A person who was used for someone else’s sake

Or a person who lived for themselves

But it’s just that today again,

I thought that maybe someone will think I’m needed

After what felt like hours, the song went to the bridge and right there and then Joonhwi pressed Sol A’s hands, conveying what it seems like his version of comfort and confession.

Happiness isn't the repeating cycle of night turning into

The bright morning as the stars fall

Rather, it's holding an umbrella for a special someone

As the rain falls on them

The me who’s perplexed upon finding yet another weakness

But is that even possible

In the place where I find my eyes closed

Sol A yawned, the song pulling her into a deep slumber. It was at this moment where she decided to place her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. The song hits it closing verse at the same time Sol A’s eyes finally gave in to sleep.

To be honest with you, this was not a spur-of-the-moment decision by Joonhwi. He was planning to confess after all. And maybe in that plan was once a plan that included him singing a song for Sol A. But then the great second round judicial passer decided against it. His reasoning composed of Sol A laughing at him, his average voice, or him not having the guts to do it in front of someone like her. Yet again, it seems like fate was in his defense and the girl beside him just fell asleep before the song ends. And so, in quiet hums to the melody and quiet hushes to not wake up Sol A, Joonhwi sang along to the closing verse of the song.

Happiness isn't the repeating cycle of night turning into

The bright morning as the stars fall

Rather, it's holding an umbrella for a special someone

As the rain falls on them

And then before I realized,

I was the one that was being protected

Always,

I want you to always be by my side

Even when my eyes are opened, even when my eyes are closed

As the song comes to a close, the door opened revealing the much-awaited Professor Kim. She took a glance at the bodies that occupy the room and found herself smiling at the sight. As much as she wants her students to rest, there is a call for work and at that realization, she decided to make her presence known.

“I don’t want to take away the moment from the both of you, but our client is waiting in the hall right now.”

At the sound of Professor Kim’s voice, a surprised Joonhwi shuffled in his seat, waking up the tired Sol A in his arms.

Pause.

The two of them looked at each other’s eyes, still surprised, realizing that break is over. Yes, they were surprised. Or maybe this is the only reason they are forced to think, for their heartbeats were at high.

After the session was over, Professor Kim accompanied the client outside after reminding Joonhwi and Sol A to discard the trash that was left from the snacks before exiting the room. And so, they went to clean and arrange the files for the next consultation.

“The song earlier. What was the title of it?”

“It’s Mabataki by back number. I can send you the link if you want to.”

“Go on. I really liked the melody and somehow the lyrics spoke to me. Huh, am I being sentimental again? I thought that was the alcohol speaking for a moment,” Sol A joked.

“Nah. As if there’s alcohol in your system. It’s just you. Also, Kang sol,” Joonhwi says but pauses mid-sentence.

“Why? What’s up?”

“Never mind. I’ll just chat you later.”

“Yah! Han Joonhwi!”

The two of them had just finished cleaning and went on separate ways back to their dorm to catch some rest. Sol A proceeded to take a quick bath to ease the tiredness away. After the refreshing bath, Sol A was determined to sleep not until a text popped up.

Kang Sol.

Yah, are you there?

Here’s the link of the song https://open.spotify.com/track/7hIfpcdUZcyCKHYy8gp49E?si=095d6e0abb584ce4

Also, you may want to check the translation to satisfy the ‘sentimental’ in you. Haha. Kidding. But for real, check it out.

한준휘 is typing…

“What’s with him now?”, Sol A ponders as the time wastes away waiting for Joonhwi to send her the following texts.

What happened earlier was certain to me.

I had planned to confess before, but I can’t seem to find the words so when I found out about this song and immediately thought of you, it hit me. I was so sure at that moment.

I’m not really good with words so I find it comforting to have someone who understands me just by looking at my eyes. Uhh, I don’t know. I’m just rambling at this point.

Read the lyrics.

More than my confession today, I want you to remember the lyrics.

Good night, Kang Sol.

Just when Sol A thought this was the end of his ‘rambles’ as he declared, another text pops up.

Remember the lyrics. Uhh, especially the last part where you decided earlier to sleep at. Haha.

Just so you know.

Because you’ve given me all that.

Sol A can’t seem to wrap her head around it. She was aware of what happened earlier, of how Joonhwi’s hands searched for hers, how he pressed it three times – yes, three times – and how she fell asleep to his voice. And she cannot also seem to find the words for what happened.

More than my confession today, I want you to remember the lyrics.

So she did. And right there and then, she understood everything.

That it is perfectly normal to fail because there is grace.

That happiness is sheltering the person you care for from the rain under a shared umbrella.

And more importantly – that forcing yourself to see will not bear the right answer, and that closing your eyes is not a loss.

It’s in the blink.

It’s everything in between.

It’s everything that’s in front of you right now.

Closing notes:

I don’t really know if I made sense, but this was just a spontaneous entry without any storyline or whatnot. It’s actually my first time in years to write another entry with dialogues. So please bear with me at that. And I sure write for therapy and as a hobby. Although that may be the case, I will still be perfectly happy to hear your thoughts! All mistakes are mine. All song translation is credited to: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/mabataki-blink.html & https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/back-number/Mabataki/translation/english

All my appreciation to back number for letting me, and now us, to hear this song.

Just as Law School and Kang Sol A gave me the strength and motivation to write again (and believe in myself again), I hope that the message of this entry will come across like that to you as well.

Thank you so much for taking your time to read.

Just keep blinking.

-fourlium

#law school kdrama #han joon hwi #kang sol a #solhwi #joonsola

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Gardening

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Pairing: Zack Fair x Aerith Gainsborough (zerith)

Rated: T

Story Summary: Zack brings Aerith a priceless gift, and during so, he's also unknowingly fulfilling many more of her tiny little wishes…she'll just have to think up some more. AKA, flowers get planted and a love flourishes…

...

A03

FanFiction.net

....

Today was going to be perfect.

The fresh scent of topsoil, the earth fragrant and fresh with new life begging to be nurtured under her experienced hands. The small seeds in paper packets and blooming bulbs in trays were nearly enough to bring tears of happiness to Aerith's rich green eyes.

Yet the euphoria she was feeling was nothing but a blip to the full force of the sun that was Zackary Fair.

It was amazing! Her SOLDIER came to visit her at her house rather than her church. Nothing new, but today was different! Instead of only being able to stay for an hour or two before being called off to save Midgar from certain doom, Zack was free to spend the entire day with her - the general's orders! Zack had to even show her Sephiroth's text to prove it and there it was in black and white.

...

"r u sure, seph?"

"For the third and last time, yes, Zackary. I am more than capable of handling things at ShrinRa for one day. Now, instead of continuing to inundate me with fruitless texts, go and have a pleasant day with your female companion."

"but seph! what if u need heelp?"

"That's an order, Fair!"

"...k thanks! see u 2maro! =-D"

"Affirmative. My office for briefing at 700 sharp."

"u got it!"

....

…Wow.

While wanting to reprimand Zack for using such terrible language and grammar to communicate with his superior officer, Aerith completely ignored it to focus on the amazing news! Spending the entire day with Zack was such an exceptionally rare treat she was fully determined to cherish; anting to savor every single, last solitary moment with her handsome blue-eyed boyfriend.

Yet among the gift of his own sunny presence (which would have been plenty enough for her), today, Zack came bearing physical gifts.

Unlike other girls, Aerith had never been someone to care for expensive trinkets to showcase affection such as jewellery, new clothes or purses even if Zack could easily afford it with his First Class paycheck. No, Aerith was far simpler; wanting nothing more than to spend time with him - and she always told him so. The most luxurious thing Zack had bought for her thus far was the bright pink ribbon she scarcely removed from her hair and some delightful floral perfume he mixed himself when they went out on their first date.

Yet instead of some fancy baubles or silk clothing peeking out at her from a large brown box he held out to her was something completely unexpected…

…Zack brought her flowers!

While she grew plenty of her own, Zack had brought her something she could have never found here - flowers cultivated outside of Midgar!

Zack had been deployed on so many missions all over Gaia lately, Junon, Costa Del Sol, and Kalm just to name a few. During these times, they would talk on the phone, text or he would simply send photos to her PHS from locations during his travels. In those small photos he sent, Aerith lit up seeing all the native fauna of the place where he happened to be staying and the flower pictures became a tradition between them. Whenever he'd leave on a mission, he left with a goodbye kiss and a promise to send her pictures of flowers that grew there, and for this past year, he had kept that promise.

But as Zack slowly tilted the box to present her with its contents, Aerith was nothing short of stunned.

Inside were multiple packets of seeds and bags of bulbs. All of the white and brown packaging had his adorably messy handwriting on each with the names of flowers he had sent her pictures of throughout the last year. Deciphering his writing, Aerith noticed the names of more common species from Kalm and Junon but among the packets, there were exotic species from Wutai and even from Banora. Oh! And there were sunflower seeds from Rocket Town!

But…wait, was that -

"...Gongaga?" Aerith asked, noticing the word and glancing up at her boyfriend questioningly.

"Heh. Yeah," Zack chuckled and Aerith noticed his right arm twitch as if he wanted to scratch the back of his head if his hands weren't occupied.

"...Wait, you went to visit your parents? You never told me that! How are they? When did you go see them?" the questions flew out of her mouth at an alarming rate.

Zack just smiled softly (he had such a wonderful smile), "I didn't."

At Aerith's befuddled expression, he clarified, "My mom actually sent them. I wrote her a letter about you - I told her my girlfriend loves to garden and grows flowers and well, the next thing I know, she's sending me back a letter with all these questions along with some seeds from the flowers she and my dad have been growing in the backyard since I was a kid." Zack chuckled nervously as if shy from the information and Aerith felt as if her heart was going to jump straight out of her chest.

Blinking, Aerith glanced back down to the box cradled in his hands, all the work of gathering seeds, drying them and labeling them must have taken forever and he never told her what he was doing!

How he listened so intently as she spoke during the time they spent together this past year, asked questions and was so genuinely interested about her hobby when most times, she thought he was simply indulging her. Yet he was learning so he could give this gift to her… Not to mention the bombshell of him writing a letter to his parents and mentioning her! Proudly calling her his girlfriend and even mentioning her hobbies!

A burning sensation grew in the back of her eyes and she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

"Uh…Aer, i-is everything alright?" Zack's voice broke thorough and she looked up at his adorably nervous face.

"...You really wrote a letter to your mom about m-me?"

"Well, yeah! And my dad too I guess. Uh…I-Is that okay? I thought it would be good to mention it since we've been together for over a year and she's been badgering me about telling her about you when I call, so I figured mentioning flowers would be a safe start-" Zack's voice faded as Aerith lifted her hands and gently cupped his sweet face between her palms. Not mindful of the tears that continually slipped down her cheeks, Aerith couldn't help but smile at Zack, a smile so wide, it made her cheeks ache.

…How did she get so lucky to have this beautiful angel literally drop into her life?

"It's more than okay. It's wonderful…You're wonderful…" she whispered, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and tenderly caressing the scar on his jaw.

Aerith smiled tenderly as she felt his cheeks heat up under her palms. Zack's looked positively (and adorably) flustered at her comments; for once, she was the one to embarrass him and she relished it.

"Thanks… So are you," Zack replied, nuzzling his cheek against her palm. Such a sweet puppy…

Zack's face was so handsome and kind and eyes pretty and warm that Aerith simply couldn't resist pushing herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him. But before she even get close to closing the gap, her chest bumped right into the cardboard box and Zack yelped as he managed to catch it before it could fall or the seeds could get crushed between them as she regained her balance.

Zack laughed.

Aerith flushed a pink so deep it matched her ribbon.

Probably noticing how Aerith tensed in mortification of her actions, Zack's chuckling died out and he easily broke the tension by suggesting, "Hey, I'm all for kissing later, but how about we plant some of these first?" he nudged her hip softly with the box.

Aerith's face was still reddened but she flashed him a grateful smile. A deep breath later, the green eyed girl straightened her back and easily played along, "Planting new flowers sounds wonderful! But… you'll do exactly as I say this time? Because, Mr. Zackary Fair, if memory serves me right, I remember the last time you helped me try weeding the church…" she placed her hands on her hips and flashed him her best withering stare (it didn't work, he just bit his cheek to withhold laughter).

The longer she stared, Zack's grew sheepish at the memory of that fiasco, his cheeks a bright coral red against his tan skin, "Uh… well, in my defense, all those green stems look the same to me!"

Aerith's withering glare worked this time.

"Oh! O-Of course I'll follow your orders exactly! After all, you're the professional here! Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it!" he announced with determination and a blinding white smile.

"Yay! Just what I love to hear!" she bounced on her toes and clapped, completely breaking character before jumping right back in it with a stern voice, "Alright, First Class SOLDIER, Zack Fair, I order you to plant some flowers and perhaps do some weeding, but make sure to do it correctly this time! Do I make myself clear?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am! Operation Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money shall commence immediately!" Zack stated loudly, finally maneuvered the box under one arm and gave her a full SOLDIER salute with rigid stance and stern expression.

Aerith just giggled into her palms before pushing at his shoulder as Zack yelped when the box nearly went flying out of his arms again.

.....

Scratch that earlier statement - today was definitely perfect.

A few hours later, the couple were knelt in a patch of soft dirt.

The rich brown loam permeating the air and making the normally rank Midgar air sweet and fragrant with the scent of flourishing life. Aerith was barefoot, boots discarded as she dug her toes into the cool grass and merely enjoyed the soft breeze as her fingers raked through the dirt under her palms. The brown soil staining her fingertips and getting under her nails and most likely staining the white and blue dress caught under her knees, but she couldn't care less.

Looking to her left was nothing short of perfection.

The flowers and grass, soil and the promise of new life with every seed planted didn't much matter compared to the man kneeling right next to her. Aerith smiled softy. Her emerald green eyes tracing over Zack's handsome face as he had his complete attention on the soil in front of him. While Zack was known to have the attention span of a puppy on a sugar rush most times, when he put his heart into something, Zack easily gave 110% of focus on that task like he was right now.

Ever so carefully, the SOLDIER listened to her instructions, following her along as she showed him how to plant the seeds he gave her. Till the soil, dig the holes to make sure they were deep enough and far enough apart not to interfere with the seedling next to them. Showed him how much water to give the freshly buried seeds, the perfect amount as to not dehydrate nor to drown. With each step and seed and bulb that he planted, his confidence grew until he was doing it on his own and Aerith couldn't be prouder of her first student!

Heart hammering as she took in Zack's concentrated expression, Aerith took his moment of distraction to complete what she tried earlier - this time with much more success.

Leaning forward on her knees, Aerith gingerly pressed her palms to his broad chest. The incredible firm large pecs under her wandering fingers inflated with Zack's surprised intake of breath as he looked at her in surprise at her forward action. Still retaining her nerve, Aerith grasped at his leather suspender straps, using them for balance as she eagerly pressed her lips against the corner of his plush smiling mouth.

The SOLDIER smiled warmly at her action. Hands wanting nothing to grab at her waist to pull her closer and kiss her properly but with the dirt covering his fingers, he resisted. Instead, he chased her retreating face, brushing his cheek on hers before letting his lips leave feathery strokes along her jaw before planting the softest kiss by her ear.

"What was that for? You trying to distract me?" he whispered and he bit his lip upon feeling her shiver as she nuzzled her face in his neck.

Aerith whole body felt electrified at Zack's question and his warm breath caressing her throat and loose tendrils of hair hanging by her ears. "No. Not really… What if I said I just wanted to?"

"...Oh really?" he asked, pulling back slightly and Aerith mourned the loss of his warmth for only a second as she caught his coy smile."Because if I didn't know better, I think you're just distracting me from gardening…"

"What if I am?" her mouth spoke before her brain even registered it. The words that left her mouth made her flush.

"Hmm... well, if that's the case, I'd say you win," he affirmed with the sexiest smirk she ever saw but before she could respond, Zack's mouth pressed against hers. His head tilting so he could slot his mouth perfectly against hers; the action had her toes curling against the grass as she bit back a rising moan. Aerith's hands grabbed at his raven hair, fingers eagerly cording through soft strands and desperately grasping at him to pull him closer.

Yet all too soon, Zack pulled his mouth away with a sinful pop as Aerith panted frantically, cheeks flushed and confused and a bit miffed that he dared to stop.

"So, since we're almost finished planting the dahlia's, how about we move over this hill and plant the sunflowers near the bridge?" Zack asked all too naturally before flashing her a devious wink.

Aerith was affronted for only a moment before she glared at him, "Nope. I'm in charge, remember?" with little hesitation, Aerith gently pushed aside the remaining seeds and bulbs and pushed Zack onto his back. The SOLDIER easily caving to her hands as she pressed at his shoulders til he rested among the soft grass, the bright green a beautiful contrast to his dark hair. "And I say that you're not allowed to get up until I say so, am I making myself clear, SOLDIER?

"Oh, yes..." he grunted lightly for show as she plopped down on his stomach guard. "Crystal clear, ma'am," he replied biting back a chuckle before she leaned over him and kissed him for all he was worth.

...After all, the seeds could always wait to be planted later…

#zerith #zack fair #aerith gainsbrough #ff7 #ff7r #ff7 remake #ffvii #ff7 fanfition #zerith fanfition

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hydrangeahug · 3 years

Text

Solodeus Week Day 1!

College AU | Sleepover

Ao3

Note: I wrote this a month ago and now I can't remember what it's about </3 all I know is that Solomon affectionately calling Asmo his little demon even with Asmo being human makes me feel some sort of way,,,

College, a place that, to Solomon, was more boring than anything else he ever had to deal with. He already knew most topics they had and the people in his classes weren't interesting enough to catch his attention either. But as much as he just wanted to finally be done with it, his college did bring him one good thing. Asmodeus.

They met in one of the few classes that they went to together, it was an art class if he remembered correctly. Asmodeus wasn't the best student there but he had potential if he would actually attend the classes each week. He was usually clubbing when everyone else sat in the classroom and while Solomon didn't like skipping his classes - as much as he hated them - but he couldn't say that Asmodeus' charm never worked on him. He often suddenly found himself in a club with Asmodeus instead of in his class, but how could he be mad at his friend when he looked so happy?

Solomon usually kept to himself but something about Asmodeus was intriguing to him. Asmodeus was popular but he still chose to spend most of his time with Solomon. Not that Solomon minded it though, Asmodeus' company was a good distraction, and he was a good friend to Solomon.

But what he absolutely wasn't, was a good team partner.

Every time Asmodeus was assigned on a team project with someone, it ended horribly. Solomon liked Asmodeus but if there was one thing he hated about him, it was this. Everyone dreaded when team projects were assigned, not only because they're overall a pain to deal with, but also because getting assigned with Asmodeus meant a 100% chance of failing.

And this time it was Solomon's time to suffer.

[ Asmo ]

Sol <3 when did you want me to come over again?

[ Solomon ]

You were supposed to be here an hour ago.

[ Asmo ]

???

Why did you not tell me anything???

[ Solomon ]

I've been calling you for a while…

And this was one of the reasons. Asmodeus was horrible at being there on time. And this was actually still early for him. His usual time was around 3 - 4 hours if he decided to come at all.

Their apartments weren't far from each other and they often spent time together at Solomon place. Asmodeus didn't enjoy having people over at his place so it was rare for Solomon to be allowed over. Solomon didn't mind having them at his place though, there was less distraction for Asmodeus and the atmosphere was more calm compared to his place.

There was a knock on the door, Asmo.

Solomon opened the door and outside stood Asmodeus, he was wearing a more casual pink sweater and black pants and a few accessories like a necklace and an earring, he had his backpack with him - a small backpack with bat wings that Solomon had won for him at a fair - and his phone in his hand.

"Tada! Do you like my outfit?~"

"Good morning to you too, Asmo."

Solomon held the door open so Asmodeus could get in and there was absolutely no way he could have missed the pout on his face when he walked past Solomon like that.

Asmodeus took off the backpack and put it next to the couch before dramatically letting himself fall onto the couch. "So you're not even going to acknowledge my outfit that I took so long to pick out just for you to see? How ungrateful…"

"Your outfit is great, but we won't be going outside today anyway, I don't see why you needed so much time to pick it out. And apart from that, I'm surely not the only one to see it considering how full the streets are." Solomon did like his outfit, he looked pretty in it, but if he would have said anything more then Asmodeus would be spending the next hour talking about why his outfit is so perfect and they didn't have enough time to waste, even if Solomon enjoyed hearing Asmodeus talk about topics that interested him with so much enthusiasm.

"Awww would you prefer if you were the only one to see me then? I could come over late next time when the streets are empty and you could spend all night being the only one to see me.~"

Solomon sat down next to Asmodeus and took his notebook that was laying on the table in front of him, "As nice as that sounds, we should get to work on our project. We only have today left after all."

"Didn't they say that it was due on the 13th?" Asmodeus said while looking for his notes in his backpack. How he managed to continuously lose things in a backpack so small was beyond Solomon. "Oh by the way, do you want something to drink? I brought something nice with me today!"

Asmodeus held a fancy bottle of wine in front of Solomon's face; it was a wine they liked drinking on their movie nights at Asmo's place. The wine was good but despite Asmodeus going clubbing so often, he doesn't mix well with alcohol and ends up drunk a lot quicker than Solomon.

"They mentioned in the class chat that the deadline had to be switched to an earlier date due to the school festival being on the 13th. Also, no alcohol before we finish this." Solomon took the bottle from Asmodeus' hand and put it on the living room table. Perhaps Asmo is going to work hard until we're done if he has something to look forward to, Solomon thought.

"You're normally not so boring… one glass isn't going to get us drunk, please…?" He thought wrong. And of course Asmo would use the puppy eye tactic on him… "One glass and then we start working."

"I promise you that I'll work as hard as I can afterwards!~" He winked towards Solomon and then left to get them two glasses. Solomon meanwhile gathered a few of the books he got from the library nearby for their project. The project was for their art class, a class that both Asmodeus and Solomon were quite good in. Asmo surprisingly enjoyed their written classes as much as their drawing ones and he looked quite adorable with the glasses that he wore to those classes.

Asmodeus came back with the two glasses and poured both of them a cup, the dark red liquid had a nice smell, it reminded Solomon of their movie nights. It was rare for Asmo to drink this wine outside of them, it was too expensive to buy often, did Asmo have a plan?

They drank their glass while working on the subject. Asmodeus was surprisingly holding true to his promise, he was working without any problems and their work was finished sooner than Solomon had expected.

"See, I can work hard if I want to! Now…" Asmodeus looked around the room, "how about a movie night at your place, we still have so much left of the wine after all?"

Solomon looked towards Asmo while he was putting the books into his shelf, Asmodeus was working on cleaning the desk in the meantime. "Sure, got any good movies we could watch?"

"Solomon, was there ever a movie night where I didn't have a plan ready? I already picked out some movies this morning." So that's why he finished so quickly! Well it wasn't like Solomon was going to complain though, they worked hard and movie nights with Asmo were always relaxing, perfect to calm down before the deadline tomorrow.

Asmodeus picked out two movies, one was a detective romance and the other a horror movie. Asmo put his head on Solomon's shoulder after the first movie. It was one of the moments where both of them could be happy, not a single worry in the world could bother them in that moment.

By the time they were halfway done with the second movie they had drunk most of the bottle - with Asmodeus drinking most of it while Solomon slowly enjoyed his own glass - and it was already dark out. Solomon knew he couldn't let Asmo go out this late so he thought about where they could order some food together before sleeping.

But before he could come up with a restaurant he heard faint snoring coming from the man beside him. He seemingly fell asleep on Solomon's shoulder. Asmodeus looked so peaceful asleep that he couldn't get himself to wake him up even if he tried. He took the remote and turned down the volume on the TV until it was almost impossible to hear. Solomon then grabbed a blanket that he always had on his couch and put it over Asmo so he wouldn't get sick before putting his arm around his back to bring him closer.

"Good night, my little demon."

#Solodeusweek2021 #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #solomon obey me #asmodeus obey me #solodeus #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me: shall we date #obey me:swd

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lyranova · 3 years

Text

Children of the Future:

Chapter 3: Temporary Home

Hi guys! Here’s chapter 3, I hope you guys like it I apologize if it isn’t very good I’m kinda tired atm but I’ll be ok ☺️! Also, Chapter 4 will be reblogged a few hours after this one since I already wrote that one haha. Anyway I hope you all enjoy~!

Taglist: @eme-eleff (if anyone wants to be added please let me know!)

Word Count: 2,339

Warnings: None

———

Yami groaned as he stretched, he rubbed his eyes a bit as he sat up in bed. That was some strange dream he had last night, him and the Prickly Princess, having a kid together. He almost wanted to laugh, it was so ridiculous. He and her, having a kid, he shook his head as he got out of bed. That would be the last time he ate Charmy’s cooking before he went to bed. He stood up, stretched again, and walked out of his bedroom. He hoped today would be an easy day with some much deserved down time.

He walked down the hall into the common room and frowned; it was silent, eerily silent. He cautiously walked into the room and looked around, he froze when he saw what had the Black Bulls so quiet. They were all surrounding Hikari as she politely answered the questions they threw at her, all the ones she could answer anyway. Yami blinked rapidly as he realized he hadn’t been dreaming the day before, he did have a kid with Charlotte, one from the future and that was currently 19 years old. He walked up to them and heard Hikari laugh, it sounded so much like Charlotte’s that it made him freeze on the spot again.

“ Oh no, dad hasn’t changed much at all! He’s still tough on everyone and tries to get us to push past our limits, he doesn’t cut me any slack at all even though I’m his daughter.” She laughed sheepishly, the Black Bull members' faces looked a mixture of disappointment and awe.

“ That’s just like Captain Yami, he treats everyone equally no matter who they are or what their status is!” Asta said in admiration, Noelle sighed and looked at him.

“ You would think he would at least cut his own daughter some slack.” Noelle said as she crossed her arms, Yami walked up behind all of them.

“ What makes you think that? I don’t cut anyone slack when it comes to training, and I mean anyone.” Yami suddenly said, making everyone but Hikari jump, she had noticed him walking up to them but didn’t say a word.

“ Captain Yami!” They all shouted in unison, Yami shook his head before looking at Hikari.

“ They bothering you?” Yami asked her, Hikari shook her head and waved away his concerns.

“ No they’re not bothering me, I’m actually having fun answering their questions.” Hikari told him with a small smile, it was nice seeing how different some of them were compared to how she knew them. Grey, Noelle, and Finral were the ones that had surprised her, she knew Grey had been terribly shy before she married Gauche but it was still weird to actually see how shy she was. She noticed Noelle seemed to be a little more closed off and kind of colder, she had heard about her being like this at one time but she had grown to be much warmer. Finral, well, he wasn’t as flirty in her time for obvious reasons. So him being so forward last night had thrown her for a loop.

“ Mhm, that ‘fun’ will wear off in a while trust me. Anyway,” Yami said as he walked over and sat down on the couch, he quickly pulled out a cigarette and lit it before Hikari could say anything. “ the Prickly Princess should be here soon. We’re all moving into a new house today, since Julius wants you to ‘adjust’ and thinks us all living together will help.” Yami grumbled slightly before taking a drag of his cigarette. He knew there was more to it then that.

Julius wanted them to keep an eye on her.

Yami doubted it was because he was mistrustful of Hikari, she hadn’t lied to them once, and if she did Yami would be able to sense it with his Qi. But it was because they didn’t know why she was sent there, they figured out who sent her last night, which Yami would have to tell Julius about later. He noticed a sadness in Hikari’s eyes that quickly disappeared.

Hikari didn’t want to leave, even though she had only been here for less than 24 hours she wanted to stay. She was enjoying spending time with these versions of the Black Bulls, they were so fascinating and she wanted to know more about them like this. This place was her home, even if it looked slightly smaller and less crowded now.

There was a soft knock on the door, Yami yelled for them to come in and they opened the door. Charlotte looked around and spotted Yami sitting away from the group, she walked over to him and sat down.

“ Don’t stop on my account.” Charlotte said as they all looked over at her before glancing at Yami, who nodded, and they went back to questioning Hikari. Charlotte turned to look at Yami. “ How long has the inquisition been going on?”

“ Since before I woke up if I had to guess.” Yami shrugged slightly. “ How’d your squad take the news?” When asked this Charlotte sighed.

“ About as well as yours did, except for Sol, she wasn’t too happy at first. Well, she was more confused than unhappy, but I think after she meets Hikari she’ll become accustomed to the idea.” Charlotte explained with a shrug. “ But everyone else seemed pretty excited and supportive about the idea, although they don’t like that I’m no longer going to be at the headquarters for the time being.”

“ Mine are the same. But they’ll have to get over it for now, besides, we’re going to be in close proximity to both right? It shouldn’t be a big deal, especially since Hikari’s an adult and can stay by herself.” Yami pointed, she nodded in agreement.

“ But even though she’s an adult, adjusting to this new world could still be a challenge.” Charlotte countered, and he nodded in agreement as well. All three of them living together made sense, as well as making them live in a new house instead of at one of the bases.

“ We need to be going before we lose daylight.” Charlotte said as she stood up and walked towards the doors. “ It’s time to go Hikari.” The young girl blinked before looking at Yami, he stood as well and shrugged a shoulder.

“ You heard her, c’mon let's go. I’ll come back for my stuff later today.” Yami said, he watched the young girl slump in defeat; she really didn’t want to leave yet. “ You can come by and visit whenever you want. These brats aren’t going anywhere.” Yami added before rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, oddly he didn’t like hurting her feelings and he didn’t want to see her sad. Huh, was this a fatherly instinct? He only knew the girl for a few hours and yet he felt like he had known her forever! It was strange. Hikari’s face brightened instantly as she stood up.

“ Great! I’ll come back as often as I can!” She announced happily, she would probably come back here and hang out with the others everyday, but she also wanted to hang out with some of the Blue Rose Knights. Hm, this was going to be tricky. She would have to divide her time between the two squads well, but she also needed to help find a way home, or at least figure out why she was here in the first place!

Hikari followed Yami and Charlotte outside, there were three brooms sitting there, and she grabbed the one in the middle, crouched down on it, and levitated in the air. Her ‘parents’ did the same and they flew towards their new temporary home. As they journeyed Hikari’s mind wandered a bit; everyone looked relatively the same, albeit much younger now than when she knew them. It seemed to her that Grey and Gauche were already together, or were in the beginning stages of it anyway, Zora was still single from what he said, her parents were obviously not together, and it seemed that Noelle still hasn’t told Asta about her feelings. This was very curious. She tilted her head in thought after a moment.

She wondered if any of the other couples from the different squads were together or not.

————

The three landed softly outside of a small building that would be their new home. Like the Black Bulls base it was pretty secluded, but it was also a short broom ride to the Capital as well as to the Blue Rose Knight and Black Bull bases. It was a bit larger than the Black Bulls base, but smaller than the Blue Rose one. Yami walked up to the door and pushed it open, the common room was a bit larger than the Black Bulls, but it still had a couple of couches, a long dinner table, a few coffee tables, and a bar. On their left seemed to be the entrance to the kitchen and a small breakfast area, it was much smaller than the Black Bulls. ‘Charmy would be having a fit if she saw it’, Yami thought with a chuckle. He looked up and noticed a short staircase in front of them. The house appeared to have multiple wings which made him frown in confusion; if it was only going to be the three of them, then why did they need the extra rooms?

“ Huh, this looks a lot like the Black Bulls hideout. Except the layouts are different.” Hikari noted as she stepped beside Yami, Charlotte made a ‘hmm’ noise as she looked around.

“ The layout is similar to our headquarters, except smaller and much darker.” Charlotte muttered, it seemed like Julius either made or found a house that was similar enough to both bases in order to make them all comfortable. Huh, how thoughtful.

“ So, what do we do now?” Hikari asked as she crossed her arms.

“ We find our rooms, drop off our things, and look around.” Charlotte suggested, the other two nodded and they went off in seperate directions to find their rooms.

Hikari found one that was similar to the one she had at the Black Bulls base, but it was much larger, like she could probably fit at least 6-8 beds in there! She placed her Katana down on the bed with a sigh, that was the only thing she had been able to grab, she had no clothes or anything. Just her Katana. She turned as she heard a soft knock on her door, not waiting for a reply Charlotte walked in.

“ I’m sorry to intrude, but I brought you some of my old clothes. You look to be around my size, so they should fit, if not I can always have them tailored.” Charlotte smiled softly as she handed the girl the stack of clothes. Hikari looked away sheepishly as she took the clothes from her with a soft ‘thank you’. ‘ She’s just like Yami, she doesn’t seem to get sheepish easily, but when she does she’s absolutely adorable!’ Charlotte thought with an internal giggle. She watched the girl place the clothes inside the empty dresser.

“ I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do to help.” Charlotte apologized as her smile turned sad. “ I wish there was a way I could help you get home sooner, so you can be with your parents and siblings.” Charlotte couldn’t begin to imagine how Hikari was feeling being away from the people she loved and cared about, she was probably scared and upset but refused to show it.

“ It isn’t your fault. I’ll be home with them soon enough, after we get the answers to all of our questions that is.” She told her as she leaned against the dresser, Charlotte nodded in agreement. The two women stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Charlotte decided to break it, with a surprising question.

“ So, do you have a boyfriend?” The question seemed to surprise both women. Charlotte had been spending too much time around the girls in her squad for that question to come out of her mouth. Hikari frowned in both thought and confusion.

“ No, I mean, I have boy friends as in friends that are boys. But I’m not actually dating anyone. I want to accomplish my dream first.” Hikari said firmly and with a nod for emphasis, Charlotte tilted her head.

“ What’s your dream?”

“ To become the Wizard Queen someday.” She announced proudly and with a confident smirk. “ But, not only will I have to get stronger and surpass all my limits, there are a few people I’ll have to knock out in order to get there.” Hikari said the last part softly, the white haired young man with a warm smile and bright blue eyes appeared in her mind again at the statement and she quickly shook her head.

“ Well, I’m sure with the help of Yami and your friends, you’ll be able to accomplish those goals easily.” Charlotte told her with an encouraging smile, Hikari opened her mouth to speak before she saw Yami suddenly walk by.

“ Yami?” She called out, he stopped and looked at the women before walking in. He had a confused look on his face.

“ What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, her face and tone suddenly growing serious. Yami sighed before crossing his arms, he was holding a communication device in his hand.

“ That was Marx, Julius’s assistant. Apparently, I need to go get Zora and bring him to the Capital.” Yami said, Charlotte also frowned in confusion, but Hikari’s eyes widened and looked hopeful.

“ Why do you think he asked for Zora?” Charlotte asked, causing Yami to shrug again before turning around and walking out of the room.

“ No idea. But I plan to find out.”

———-

Ah i’m sorry this isn’t very good, but I hope you all enjoyed 🥰! I’ll reblog chapter 4 in a few hours so you can all read it! Thanks for reading and i hope you all have a good day~!

#children of the future #black clover #black clover fanfic #black clover fanfiction #yamichar #yami x charlotte #charlotte x yami #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #oc; hikari #not my oc

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justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years

Text

Don’t Breathe | 4.5

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DON’T love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt. 5.5 - pt.6.0

a/n: hello!~ thank you for reading and i hope u enjoy!! will most def edit later💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms @komorebi-unnie @tangledsparkles @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31

The sun is setting like a dream, you can’t say you’ve ever seen it shine so beautiful. The sky looks like a peach painting that shyly fades into a heavenly deep-blue. It’s a perfect evening, the air smells of the flowers growing on the porch and it delights your senses. He’s chasing you barefooted across the grassy yard, like two children playing tag at the peak of spring. Out of breath, he finally catches you and you fall back into the checkered blanket, too tired to run off again.

After seeing you enjoy the balcony so much, he introduced you to his lavish backyard. Aside from the large stone patio and pool attached to it, the yard expands at least an acre and it’s well-groomed. Early in the evening, you moved to spend some time on the patio, a pencil, and paper in hand. Taehyung had some work to do so you had a few hours to yourself, you used that time to think and write. After a few hours, you could no longer resist the urge to take a dip in the crystal clear oasis.

With a t-shirt and underwear, you eased into the cool water and breathed a sigh of relief. For what could have been an hour or two, you weren’t counting, you swam on your back, staring up at the clear sky, wondering if you’ll ever feel peace like this again. When your eyes shut, your thoughts seem to align, and for the first time since you’ve been here, you felt like you were where you were supposed to be. As much as you cherish your life alone, your independence, and innate desire to prove that you can make it on your own—it seems Taehyung is worth giving that up.

That would have sounded crazy weeks ago, but it’s how you feel. That night that you confessed that you wanted to be with him, you meant it. You don’t know when it happened, maybe when you kissed him and he picked you up when you woke up to him fast asleep with a pillow in his arms. Or maybe it was when he suggested you help him bake since he knew you wrote so much about food in your articles, you’re not sure. But somehow, sometime after learning his name, you think you fell in love.

When you were with Jin, you had similar feelings to this. You knew you were in love when you had the urge to smile even when you were hurting just to make him smile. That feeling of unexplained self-sacrifice, something as small as a smile, you’d force it out if you knew it would help him. With Taehyung, it seems like he will do anything to make you smile sometimes, even when you know he’s keeping stressful things from you. Is that love? You think so.

You sigh, still feeling a bit wet from your swim a while ago but you’ve dried mostly. He fussed at you for not showering straight away but you said the sun would dry you well enough until your shower tonight. It’s dusk now, and your out in the grass, laying happily on the blanket with him. A few minutes ago you found out that he had pretty lights adorning the patio. He said he’s had them for a while but hadn’t turned them on until today. It casts a warm light out into the grass, you tell him he should turn it on more often.

”You should shower before you catch a cold,” He stresses for the second time. You find his worry endearing but negotiate five more minutes, and he caves. It’s been a while since you’ve been outside like this. He knows this, that’s why he’s laying shoulder to shoulder with you as you gaze up at the night sky. “Sorry I had so much work I had to do today, hope you weren’t too bored out here,”

”It’s fine, I was writing anyway...”

”You were writing?” He turns on his side, curiosity piqued. You nod, hands searching for the pencil and pad you had on the blanket.

”Mhm, I used to write poetry when I was in high school. I wasn’t very good and some of it is kind of cringe now that I look back at it, but I enjoyed it. I haven’t written in so long, I thought I’d give it a shot,” You grab the notepad and look up at it, eyes skimming over the gray hue from all the erasing. You catch him trying to peek over and you hold it to your test.

“Don’t look, it’s not good,”

He pouts, hand moving to intertwine with yours with puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on, you’ve never shared your personal writings with me before,” He pouts, leaning closer to you in hopes that you might succumb to the allure of his gaze. “Pleeease?”

”Fine,” You sigh, “but you have to read it yourself,” You lift the notepad in surrender, handing it to him.

He sits up and the feeling of anxiousness comes to a halt when you realize one important fact; it’s Taehyung. Not a supervisor critiquing your rough draft or a teacher judging your ability to recite your understanding of the class’s latest assignment. It’s him.

I’ve been given a universe, all for me. My very own stars in your eyes, I can stare at you forever. The remnants of your every gaze births a galaxy and I draw up the constellations by the reminisce of the pattern of your touch on my skin. I, too, have given my universe to you. Though I’m innocent to the stars in my eyes, the constellations I paint on your skin, all for you. No event is there more beautiful than the moment our eyes meet, our nebulae collide. A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever,

“In your universe, my universe...” He reads the last lines softly. Setting the pad down with an expression that you can’t quite read, he just looks at you and you start to feel nervous.

“I just,” You bite at your lip and look up at the night sky that’s beginning to show the stars, “I had this idea about space, it’s a little different but it took me hours to come up with...I’m rusty.”

He props himself up and leans over you, gazes searching for yours with a tender close-lipped smile. He holds his hand to his heart, “That was so beautiful.”

You cringe, pushing his chest so he can roll back on his back. “Oh stop, now I wish I wouldn’t have shown you,” It’s hard to tell if he’s praising you or teasing, it seems like it’s one in the same sometimes.

“I’m being serious, I can feel the emotions you’re conveying in your words, I really get it…” He looks a bit surprised that you’d think he was teasing you about this, he leans back over you.

“You mean it?” You look into his eyes, wondering how anyone could be capable of making you feel so special like you’re the only person in the world. Without a word, he presses a firm kiss to your lips and you sigh, he means it.

He gets you to go inside and shower before it’s too dark outside, you both shower and the warmth calms you. Dressed in a matching pair of gray and green pajamas that he recently purchased, long-sleeves but breathable. For the first time, you two lay in bed and watch movies together. You had debated over watching either Whisper of The Heart or My Neighbor Totoro, you settled on My Neighbor Totoro.

You’re comfortably propped on your pillow and curled slightly on your side. Taehyung is laying on his side as well, one leg was thrown over you and one hand holding yours. He’s like a big teddy bear, soft and comforting in every way. He’s so warm, his fingers are so long and he engulfs your hand, his leg is pinning you down but you find it comforting.

He’s laying on the pillow beside yours, eyes lingering more on you than the movie, but he glances at it every so often. Ever since that moment on the blanket in the yard with you, your poem had been on his mind in the best way. The thought of you writing that with him in mind, it makes his heart flutter.

“Baby, I can’t stop thinking about your poem,” He grabs your attention from the enthralling scene on the TV, “I know you think I’m messing with you but I’m not, it’s touching,” He admits with a little laugh, “what is it about?”

“It was my expression of platonic love and physical love, the love I’ve experienced in my life, what I think is love, our love...” You shyly say that last part, gripping his hand a little tighter.

He hums, thumb rubbing your knuckles gently. ”Our love? I knew it,” He smiles, a sweet smile on his face as he scoots closer to you if that was possible. “I had my suspicions that it was about us,” He cups your jaw, leaning over you.

“The part where it says, when our nebulae collide, giving life to new stars, creating a constellation that can only be defined by fate,” His mouth gapes a bit, tongue moving absentmindedly, the usual look when he’s thinking.

“That part, that part is my favorite I think,” He gently kisses your forehead and you let out a little laugh that makes him smile in adoration, “it sounds like us,”

“It’s about us, but it’s about you more than anything,” You mumble, moving your hand up to tussle his hair softly, “you’re a bit more poetic than I am, I think.”

The movie is nice white noise to his low breathing, the sound of his mouth meeting your skin. His lips graze under your ear and his hand goes to the underside of your other ear, messing with your senses. He abruptly moves, causing your hand to fall from his hair as he moves to make space for his thigh between your thighs.

“When we lay together like this,” He smirks to himself, leaning his face just centimeters over yours, “enjoying each other's company and smiling, I feel so lucky,” He kisses down your jaw to your neck, praising you—you blush.

You’ve come to love this.

The barriers you once had have crumbled down a long time ago. Taehyung has shown you what love is, what it feels like. He keeps you safe, he wants to protect you at all costs and that means keeping you here.

“Wait,” You whine, the butterflies in your stomach were swarming happily, you push him away. “l- let me see your face,” Taking the hand that was once in his, you lift his face to meet yours. “I love your face, you have the best face.”

“Oh, you think so?” He let’s a little abashed laugh, “Thank you.” With a tender smile, he gives you a nice long look, nothing but adoration in those big round eyes.

“It’s true,” You grin, still in awe that he doesn’t understand his own beauty. It’s sweet looking at you, seeing your dreamy eyes, those pouty lips, makes him want to eat you. But he settles for breaking the eye-contact and kissing you. Mouth wide open, giving way to his oral fixation. You’ve had very few relationships, but from what you can compare him to, Taehyung knocks the competition out of the water in terms of affection. How he manages to cloud your senses till you’re raw with love amazes you. The rush from it is something you’ve never experienced before.

You’re pushed and pulled, but there’s no hostile battle, no attempt to coax the other into a preferred position, everything sets naturally, as it should. It’s how it’s meant to be, everything fits just right, and he aches to stay this way. He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and a bit confused. You lean up to try to get him back, but he moves his head away, cooing when you let out a disappointed mewl. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?...”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you could never,” He thumbs at your cheek, “I just want to talk for a second.”

“Oh,” You purse your lips in thought, “okay, about what?”

“I’ve never had a reason to be anything for anyone before, until you, isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this close to anyone like I am to you. I look at you and it makes me realize how lucky I am. I get to see your beautiful face,” He pecks your cheek, causing our face to flush, “how your beautiful mind works,” He pushes your hair back, staring at you sparkling eyes, “your body that just fits me so well, like a glove,” He drags a hand down your clothed abdomen and to your hip, resting his hand there with a gentle press with his fingers, “you’re perfect...”

“I’m not perfect,” You swallow, turning your head, which apparently meant to him that you wanted some more attention because he kisses at your skin again, “Tae,” You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes for a quarter of a second, you’re just excited, “don’t paint me out to have no flaws, the last person who did that was terribly disappointed,”

“You mean Jin,” He scoffs when you nod. This is not the ideal time to talk about your Ex, but leave it to you two to turn every conversation in a weird direction, “That doesn’t seem like reason enough to leave anyone,” His brows furrow deeply, obviously offended.

“It was a mutual disappointment, we wanted too much from each other. I wasn’t willing to give anymore, and he just didn’t see the point anymore, it was for the best but I don’t think it was easy for either of us.”

“Well,” He breathes against you, “I don’t know the guy but I know you, and that tells me one thing, it was his loss,” You squint, breath stalling when he leaves a particularly lazy kiss to your lips before pulling away with a smack, “he had to be out of his mind to want to leave you, to leave this...”

“Or to stay,” You clear your throat, “it could have gone both ways,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me, I don’t want to leave you, I want you with me always,” He lets himself drop on his side behind you, hand on your side, voice just a whisper, “I gotta have you, I love you that much, I need you that much...”

“Tae,” You try to sit up but he moves to get behind you, spooning you like a pillow to his chest while taking your hand. You look back so you can see his face and he moves over you so you don’t have to stretch too much, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something...”

“What is it?” He nuzzles his face against yours almost like a cat would, he’s a complete softy, ugh, it’s so cute. “Ask me anything,”

“What’s the one thing you want out of life?... I mean, if you didn’t have your job or you had the chance to make one wish come true, what would it be, what do you really want?”

Grinning ear-to-ear, he boops your nose with his finger, “You.”

“I’m flattered, but besides me,” You gaze down at his hand, “I’m being serious, there has to be something out there that you want...”

“There is,” His eyes drift to your twiddling fingers, “Years ago I built up the courage to look for my birth mother, found out she lives in a different country, she’s married and has two little boys...My half brothers. I used to think about what it would be like to meet them, how they’d like me,” The thought of Taehyung having a relationship with them warms your heart, “it’s a scary thought, but I want to see them one day.”

“Aw, you have little brothers...That’s really sweet, I hope that happens for you one day, I really do...Is there anything else?”

“I’ve always wanted a family, it’s something I used to dream about a lot, but now I have you,” He props his head upon his hand, his other hand still in yours, “we’re like a tiny family, the two of us.”

“Yeah, we are, it’s nice,” When you and Taehyung have pillow-talks like this, he becomes so pure and honest, it makes your heart melt. Just thinking of what he’s gone through in his life, and who he’s become over the time you’ve been together, it might sound cliche but he’s a miracle.

“There’s another thing,” He rubs his thumb against your hand, “I want a baby one day in the future, maybe after I’m married, or just whenever the time is right.”

“Really? I could see that, I know you really love kids and babies.”

“I’d love a kid of my own, maybe a few,” He can’t contain his little grin at the thought, “that would be so nice...”

To be a dad. That’s definitely a wish Taehyung would have, and you hope with all your heart that he gets that one day. You just lean further back into his chest, breathing in tandem with him.

“Love you,” You mutter, squeezing his hand tighter, praying that the walls that once kept you apart would never return. You’ve realized that there are some connections so strong, so meant to be, that no matter the circumstance, those two individuals will meet.

A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever, in our universe.

“How’s the investigation going? Jin told me you reached out the other day,”

The busy lawyer sets his freshly ordered coffee in his cup holder as he drives off to his highly-decorated firm.

“I did, the case is more complicated than I initially thought,” Yoongi poured the subpar coffee in the Styrofoam cup, it’s 6am and he’s trying not to be grumpy, “if I’m right about my suspicions, it’s a fucked-up situation.”

“What’re you thinking?”

Yoongi looks around, seeing that the only person around was the woman at the desk. “The girl, along with the other individuals at that conference, was targeted. I got the names of the parties at the conference, they’re politicians of course but the details of the meeting were never released. I have a theory,”

He lowers his voice, looking around one more time before sipping his coffee, “I think someone at that conference had the other journalist killed. I went over each autopsy file and those people died from unusual things, but not unusual enough to suspect at first glance. Most of them died from too much of a medication that they were already taking, things like that. But this girl was abducted and I don’t know why,”

Jungkook makes a thoughtful noise. “What’s different about her that not like the others?”

“She went missing a little over a month after the others were found dead. It looks like a mistake to me,” He paces, “I don’t know if I’m being too outlandish, but I have a feeling she’s alive, we just need to find her,”

Jungkook responds with how he feels about it but Yoongi has to cut him short when Eunwoo walks into the station.

“You’re here early, Min,” Eunwoo smiles, beckoning Yoongi to follow him to his office, “I have some good news and some bad news, which do you want first?” Eunwoo leads Yoongi into his office and sets his briefcase down so he can pull what he needs out.

“Surprise me.”

“No luck on finding any leads for you on the Hwan group,” He takes a seat, opening one of the Manila folders, “they’ve been under the radar for years, I hope you can find something on them.

“And the good news?”

“It took a lot to pin him, but we’re bringing in Senator Leu for questioning.”

“Good, I think they know something that they’ve been trying to keep under the rug.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Yoongi gets up, hand tight on the flimsy cup, “If you could give me a call before the questioning so I can come by, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to do a little digging into this Hwan Group, see if I can get some info that’ll help,”

Yoongi leaves the building with a to-do list but little does he know, detective Na Jaemin, knocking on on Eunwoo’s door.

“Come in,”

“Hi,” Jaemin slips into the room, an unusual grin on his face, “how are you?”

“Um,” Eunwoo looks around, confused as to why he’s approaching him like this but he shrugs, “good, is everything okay, detective?”

“Everything's fine,” Lies, “I just had a question about that PI, Min Yoongi,”

“Shoot,” Eunwoo awaits his question.

“Why is he so adamant about keeping this case open? I mean, I’m a detective on the case and I think we should start searching for the body,” His tone sounds innocent but he’s trying to sneakily plant this idea in Eunwoo’s mind, “we could be wasting precious time, the family deserves closure and we’re just dragging it on.”

“Detective Na,” Eunwoo stops looking through the folder, “given the other related cases, we have reason to believe she might be alive. Not every abductee is killed, even if that tends to be the case.”

Jeamin swallows, trying to think of how to save himself, “I know, I’m not saying that we should be pessimistic but realistic, rather.”

“I get what you’re saying, but on what prescient you’re saying it, I don’t know. I, and many of the others in this case, have reviewed the evidence and compared it to the other cases, it doesn’t add up. After the questioning today, we’ll talk, until then, your efforts need to go towards finding her alive and well,” Eunwoo walks past Jaemin and the detective gets the memo to get out of the office.

“Absolutely, sir,” With a feigned grin, he watches Cha Eunwoo go off to do his job while he fights the urge to scream.

It’s way too close now. They’re so intent on finding you. The Hwan Group has never been found out, it hasn’t happened in the history of the group's existence. Minho’s not gonna like this.

⇢ 1 year ago ⇠

“Girl, your deadline is in three days, why don’t you head home? You have time to finish it tomorrow.”

Suzy looks over your shoulder, eyeing your computer and the thousand words you were trying to edit. You’ve been at the desk since 8 this morning, it’s almost 6 o’clock at night and it’s kicking your butt. The flow isn’t coming to you anymore, your mind is too “This is terrible, I suck at this crime stuff...” You face plant on your desk, “Like, this is sad.”

“Boss thinks you’ll do a great job,” She leans against your desk, her keys jingling in her hands, “plus, Angela is on maternity leave, you were the easiest replacement.”

“I just, I’m not in a good mindset right now,” You shut your laptop, eyes lowering to our desk, “I’m having problems with my love life, it’s, uh, – not doing so well. I’m sorry, I think I just need to sleep it off,” You take your laptop and tuck it in your tote bag, eager to get away so you don’t cry in front of her, “or drink it off, whichever I get to first.”

“Y/n,” She places a hand on your shoulder, “do you want to talk about it?” That’s the one thing about Suzy, she’s more than a nice supervisor, she’s a friend. But you can’t imagine putting your relationship issues on her, she’s got a fiance to go home to, you don’t want to send your problem with her.

“No, no, I’m okay, you- You know how it is,” You feign a smile, hoping she’ll be convinced enough to let it go, “it’s just your usual boyfriend-girlfriend stuff,”

“Okay,” You mentally sigh in relief because she looks convinced, “well I’m here if you ever need to talk, see you tomorrow!”

The drive home was good, it helped clear your mind, it’s what you needed. When you walked into your empty apartment, you resented its vacancy. What you told Suzy was a half-truth, it’s more than boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, you’re dealing with the sudden absence of a boyfriend. For lack of a better term, you got dumped. But you saw it coming, you two weren’t seeing eye-to-eye, it would have been a disservice to you both if you kept dragging it on. Yesterday, you and Jin met at your favorite Italian restaurant and he said what he had to say.

“We can’t keep doing this,”

“I know.”

You remember moving your fork through your salad, trying not to look him in the eye.

“I still care about you, okay? We should still be friends,” He was letting you down easy, it needed to happen like this.

“Of- of course, I agree...” You looked up at him, forcing a small smile. That’s how that went. The waiter had pity on you and kept coming back to refill your salad when Jin left, he had an early shift at the clinic the next morning.

The pasta didn’t taste the same anymore and your salad became very sad to your taste-buds.

Now it’s just you and your trustworthy friends, Mr. Couch and Mrs. TV. An old movie flickers on the screen and you can’t follow it, maybe that’s just the wine talking.

* *

He told himself he wouldn’t do it, he swore he’d never do it. But he found himself on the internet searching her name, his mother's name. And after hours of looking, he found her. From what he could tell, she was still living, but her last name had changed. Not only that, but she had two little boys with her in a picture on one of her social media. She doesn’t live in the country anymore, she’s off in some foreign country, living a life quite contrary to the one she was living when she had him. To see her smile, to see her living a life without him, completely unaware of the man he is now – it hurts.

He shuts the laptop and stares at the TV in front of him, watching the old movie with blank eyes. On nights like this, he realizes how lonely he is. He lays on the couch, feeling as if he was cheated of an alternative life. He could have been the smiling boy in that photo, he would’ve been a good son, right? She could have smiled the same way if it were him next to her, with his half little brother.

At times like this, he finds himself wondering what his name would sound like on her tongue, she did name him after all. But his name is the only thing she left him with. Kim Taehyung.

This is bad, this is all bad.

The PI made contact with one of their middlemen last night. It’s likely that the payment and agreement form was leaked. Minho was pissed, if he ever finds the guy he’ll kill him. As far as the case goes, the feds aren’t backing away from the case either, not at all.

During his morning jog around the stately mansions neighboring his own, the thoughts that come to his mind are more than unpleasant. He’s never doubted Taehyung before, but he’s getting pushed into a corner here. The thought that Taehyung might not have gotten rid of you plagues his thoughts. However, Taehyung is the best, he’s never screwed up a job before. However, the only way he can get the truth is if he calls Taehyung. He has to tell him to release the whereabouts of the body so they can cover it up.

Taehyung glances at his phone from the shower, it’s Minho. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he thinks about ignoring it, but that would only delay the inevitable. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stumbles out of the shower to grab the phone.

“Hello?” Taehyung answers calmly.

“Kim,” Minho chirps, “how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung furrows his brows in suspicion, “you?”

“To be honest with you,” He breathes and out, “not good. I don’t know if you know, but that case is blowing up. The damn PI is on to us and he’s egging the guy over the case on. The contract was leaked. They’re bringing people into questioning- This doesn’t look good for either of us,”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“It was your job, Taehyung – it has everything do with you.”

“But what do you want me to do? I can’t stop the investigation, I did the job, what happens after I get my pay is no longer in my hands.”

“Do you not remember what you did? She was the only target you took, you didn’t leave the body to make it look like an overdose or a typical homicide, you kidnapped her. I don’t care what you’ve done with her, that’s your business, but reveal the body, then we’ll arrange a cover-up and this will all be over,”

“I can’t do that.” He replies simply.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Give it up, Kim! Is she at the bottom of a lake? Did you burn her to ashes? Bury her? Look, I’ve been patient, but if I don’t get the location of the body, your job is on the line, and the reputation of the organization,”

Taehyung doesn’t say a word.

“Is she dead, Taehyung?”

Continuous silence pangs over the phone.

“If you wanted to start this whole rogue thing, you could’ve waited until your contract expires next year-”

“That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it? Is she dead or alive? Answer the question.

Taehyung looks up at the mirror, for the first time feeling like things are truly crumbling around him. “I did the job.”

“Okay, y ‘know what? Fine. I tried to do this the easy way, but you leave me no choice. Reveal the body in the next 24 hours, or I’m sending a team to make you reveal it. I’m sorry it has to come to this, Taehyung. There are more important things in life than some girl-”

Taehyung hangs up the phone, slamming it on the bathroom counter, nearly cracking the screen. Some girl – just the way you’re being referred to makes him upset, you’re not just some girl. Had you two met in a different life, in a different way, things would be so much easier. But this is how you two met, he took you and somehow, he was shown incredible mercy. You fell into his arms and he into yours, it was just love, simple as that.

The patio is lined with Taehyung’s art and yours, the most recent ones. Some canvases are messy, art-pieces born of pure-play. Others are more deliberate, like the one you’re painting now. It’s a flower, the jasmine flower in the pot in front of you. It’s been a few hours and even though it doesn’t look that great, you’re trying.

The door creeks but you don’t hear it, you’re too focused and it makes him smile. Only when he wraps his arms around your waist do you acknowledge his presence. He rests his head on your shoulder, “That looks beautiful,” You smile, too caught up in what you’re doing to verbally respond.

"Hey, can we talk for a second?” He gently grabs your wrist to stop your continuous stroking.

“Sure,” You turn around, already anxious. Your eyes waver, hand dropping the paintbrush into the jar.

“We might have to leave for a little while," He steps away, hand massaging the back of his neck.

“The investigation is getting bigger, the police aren’t messing around anymore, they're looking for you. My boss called me, he wants me to give you up because he suspects that you’re still alive. The man who hired me to have you killed got busted, he’s probably being questioned as we speak. If I don’t reveal you in the next 24 hours, they’re going for come for me...For you.”

“Oh...”

That’s the only response that comes to mind.

“So-...So what does that mean for us?”

He takes a seat in one of the couches, elbows propped on his knees, head resting into his hands. He stays like that for at least 30 seconds before lifting his face to see your expression.

“I’m sorry,” He drags his hands down his face, “I don’t know exactly, I’m just trying to figure it out but this PI, he’s not letting up. And Minho, he’s not going to sacrifice his business covering for me all because I fell in love.”

You've been living in a pool of ignorant bliss.

Your family is probably a mess worried about you, especially your mother, your poor mother. You may be in perfect health, but she doesn’t know that. When she watches the news, she hears stories of girls being kidnapped and murdered, unspeakable things done to them. Thank God that’s not your situation, but she doesn’t know that.

Your job, you miss your job more than you realize. Writing day and night, learning new things, meeting new people, you actually miss it. But you’re torn. Taehyung is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. If it’s possible, you’ve become so relaxed, so at peace with your life. Stress used to be a daily feeling for you, but you don’t feel it here, with him. He looks at you like an angel, like a celestial being sent to save his soul—you don’t deserve that. Throwing all caution to the wind, he spared your life. He kept you safe and hidden from those who wanted you dead. He may not believe it, but he’s a good person, he’s your angel.

“Taehyung,” You take a seat next to him, placing your hand on his thigh so he’ll look at you, “if I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

No, no, no. His heart sinks, eyes building with tears that he quickly wipes away.

“If Minho wasn’t looking for you, and it didn’t put your life at risk...” He trails off.

”It would be hard, but if- If that’s what you wanted, I would...I would let you go.” His nose burns red and he quickly loses the ability to keep the tears from rolling.

“Shit, I- I’m sorry, I’m just- I’m not trying to be so emotional...I just, I put you in a bad situation, and I know you miss your old life,” He turns from you, hiding his face so he can wipe the stray tears, “I’m so sorry I took that away...”

You embrace him, bringing his head to rest on your chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks when he laments into your shirt. Heaving, breathing hitched, it hurts your heart to see him like this, you feel his pain.

Taehyung struggles with abandonment, loss. He’s shared his past, his childhood, if you can even call it that. The lack of paternal love, isolation and depression, it all shaped him in a way that he can’t shake. It’s apart of him, he didn’t think anyone would ever be able to deal with all of that so he’s pushed it down all this time. But then you came along, and you looked at him with kind eyes, like he wasn’t bad. And he tried to stop it, he tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t anymore, he was in love. He fell so deeply in love so fast, it was scary. He was obsessive at first, he had to be for the job. But even after the job, he kept wanting to know about you, he became enthralled with your existence, it was inevitable, it was fate.

“I want to go home,” He makes grabby hands to your waist as if you’d slip away if he didn’t. “Tae,” He responds with a small sob, “please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, with a blushed nose and gritted teeth, he looks up at you. The once large man, the man who engulfs you in both size and presence has diminished to someone so small.

“My home is wherever you are,” You smile, tears already streaming down your cheeks, “when I’m with you, I’m home...I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“Y/n, you have to understand,” He sniffles, breathing deeply, thumb rubbing a tear from your supple cheek, “If you go with me, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back here, we’ll have to make a new life for ourselves, somewhere far from what we know. I’ve already taken so much from you...Are you sure this is what you want?”

“This is what I want, for us to be together. So it doesn’t matter where I am,” You cup his jaw with teary eyes, “as long as I’m with you.”

“I’m not talking until I have my attorney.”

The politician sits comfortably in the chair, hands crossed tightly, and posture perfect. After about fifteen minutes, his attorney comes in, pant-suit just as expensive as his suit and aura looking as if she had already gotten her client out of this.

“Lana Garza,” She shakes Eunwoo’s hand and takes a seat, “let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Alright,” Eunwoo sits at the table alongside another detective, “the conference you held a few months ago, what were you there talking about?”

“Urban housing development, social and civil issues in the community.”

“And are you aware of the 5 journalists found dead just a week after the conference?”

“I heard it on the news, yes.”

“Mr. Leu,” Eunwoo stands up, walking across the one-way mirror that Min Yoongi and a few other detectives are behind, “has it ever occurred to you that the conference got little to no press coverage, that’s unusual for a man of your status.”

“My client has no control over the amount of media coverage he gets on an event, that’s a question you should ask the owner of the venue.” She interjects, causing Yoongi to furrow his brows at her defense, she’s gonna fight tooth and nail for that man, he can already tell. It doesn’t matter though, they have evidence against him. That’s the man that wanted you dead,

“Detective, if you don’t have any better questions for him, I think we’ll be leaving.”

“Okay, I’ll be a little more straight-forward. Did you have any involvement with the death of these five people and the disappearance of this woman,” He opens a folder and they see the picture.

Leu glances down at the photo. There’s a shift in his eyes.

“The woman, her name is Y/F/N, she’s a writer at The Autumn Times. For about a month, she was working on an article about you. On the day of publication, she went missing and the article was nowhere to be found.”

The lawyer glances at the photo. “Are you implying my client had something to do with the disappearance of this woman?”

“Did he?” He glances at Leu. “Did you?”

“Why on earth would I do something like that? If you think I’d even dream of doing something like that, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Suddenly, Yoongi barges in, walk right up to the man in question. “Cut the bullshit, we know you weren’t happy about the article, you didn’t want it to get out that you’re a damn fraud. For whatever sick reason, you thought having innocent people murdered would somehow keep you clean.” He takes out a thin folder, holding it up to his face. “This is the copy of the contract and payment to The Hwan Group with your signature on it.”

Leu exchanges look with the attorney.

“Mr. Cha, can you give Mr. Leu and me a moment?”

Yoongi and Eunwoo leave the room, giving her time to probably compile some type of plead deal.

“We have him right where we want him, couldn’t have done this without you,” Eunwoo stands with crossed arms

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m not sure who did the abduction, they keep those details encrypted. The jobs not done until we find her alive.” Yoongi bites his lip, muttering to himself,

Please be alive...

“Tae, Stop! There won’t be any left if you keep eating it al!”

It’s been a day since Taehyung got that call from Minho, you’re running out of time. But he’s been trying to keep your mind off of it, he made a cake and asked you to decorate it.

You swat at his hand but he gets the strawberry and cream in his mouth anyway. There’s a large mixing bowl of whipped cream frosting for the strawberry cream cake.

“Yes Ma’am, I’m sorry,” He laughs, fleeing the kitchen so you don’t get him with the spoon again, “it’s just so good.” You shake your head, trying to count the strawberries for the second time, hoping you have enough.

“Remember the friend I told you about, who couldn’t come that weekend,” He goes back to his computer on the kitchen island just a few feet away from you, “Yeosang,” You nod.

“Well, he’s back in town and wants to come over.”

You swallow, wondering what that has to do with you, “Okay,”

“I told him about you, he’s a trusted friend and he’d never do anything to hurt me. I think he could help us, wipe us off the grid and get us to a safe place. I invited him to talk about it today, he should be here soon.”

You give up on counting the strawberries and stare at him. “Why are you just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t want you to have anxiety about meeting him,” His tone softens because he knows you’re upset, “I know this entire situation is stressful.”

“Well, I feel even more stressed now!” You cross your arms, the change in your mood catching him off guard. “Why would you do that!? You know I haven’t been in contact with anyone besides you in months, how can I trust that he’s not gonna turn me in or- I don’t know, anything could happen.”

“Hey, I didn’t know it would bother you this much, I’m sorry,” He walks over to you, reaching for your arms but you make your way to the sink to wash your hands, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, you know that wasn’t my intention at all,” He tries to pull ou in to kiss your forehead but you slip away,

“You should have asked me anyway.”

“Y/n, this is hard for both of us, I know you’re scared, I am too. But trust me, Yeosang is a good guy-”

“Forget it, invite over whoever you want, it’s your house,” Cutting his sentence short, you walk to the other side of the island, taking off your apron, “I’ll finish this later, go back to whatever you were doing.”

If a trail of fire could follow you on your way upstairs, the stairs would be set ablaze. The 48-hour count down if nearing the 24-hour mark, it’s getting closer and closer, he’s scared for you and himself. You left the cake half-finished so he calmly gathered the ingredients and put them in the fridge for when you might come back for it. When he hears the sound of the tub faucet he realizes you’re going to take a bubble bath, he forgets about seeing you for the next two hours.

He’s learned to let you have your time, you’re owed at least that. Even though you two are together now and you love each other dearly, he’s been feeling guilty. That’s why if you have a little outburst or mood swings from stress, he dismisses it without judgment—you’re just scared.

Ding dong. Yeosang is finally here. From his lonely spot on the couch, he thinks about asking you to come down for a moment, but he decides against it, you’ll come down when you’re ready. With a small smile, he goes to the front door.

“Hyung!” Yeosang throws his arms around a smiling Taehyung. “Sorry I’m late, lost track of time at my folk's place,” Taehyung closes the door and when Yeosang enters the house further, he sees the bowl of fruit on the center table and helps himself.

“You’re good, I’m just glad you could make it,” Taehyung takes a seat on his previous spot on the couch and his friends sits in the recliner beside his, “you don’t know how much help this is for me.”

He smiles, popping a green grape in his mouth. “Anything for my brother, I always told you if you wanted to leave the group, I could help you, I’m surprised you’re deciding so soon,” He gives him a knowing look, “she must really be something, huh?”

“Yeah...At first, I wanted to save her because I just- I couldn’t kill her, and over time she started to trust me,” He sighs, thinking of the bond you two have now and how much he treasures it, “we just fell in love.”

“I knew it!” He giggles, crossing one of his legs under him. “I knew you’d be the first to settle down, you’re such a softy,”

“I know,” Tae leans back, “she’s just- She’s everything to me, she means a lot to me.”

You’ve been soaking in the tub for about an hour now, your face is warm and your body is relaxed. The friend he invited is over and you can hear them talking, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. Some part of you wishes you didn’t react that way with him, you know he’s doing what’s best for you two. After a few minutes, you build up the courage to drain the bathwater and get dressed in a comfy pair of pajamas.

You can do this, go downstairs, he’s doing this for you two. Letting your hair fall on your shoulders, hands tucked in your sleeves to make sweater-paws. Opening the bathroom door, you peek out and you hear a movie on and a low conversation. She’s just a little shy—you hear Taehyung mumble, and you smile at the fact that he’s not trying to force you to come out. With a brave face, you make your way to the staircase and hold the stairwell all the way down.

“There’s a nice little house there, the farm culture is great, you’d like it-” Yeosang pauses right when you reach the last step on the staircase. With anxious eyes, you stand at the end of the stairway, that’s when Taehyung finally looks back to see why he stopped.

“Hi there, you must be Y/n,” Yeosang beams a friendly smile.

Taehyung stands up, hand extended for you to take. Your silences pangs in the room and Taehyung speaks up, “This is Yeosang, the friend I told you about.”

“Hi...” You walk over and take Taehyung’s hand, feeling more secure now that you’re sitting next to him.

”Taehyung told me everything,” He sits on the edge of the recliner, “this must be scary for you, huh?”

You nod, “A little...” Tae gives your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You guys will be alright, there’s a new life waiting for you beyond the next 24 hours.”

“How can you be so sure?...”

”Don’t worry, it’s his job to get people to other countries, wipe them off the grid and give them different lives. You can trust him because I trust him,” You glance up at Taehyung, finding it hard to form a response, to truly believe what he’s saying. He plants a kiss on your forehead with a sight, “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Yeosang went home that night and you laid on the couch with Taehyung, trying not to cry. Tonight will probably be the last night you spend on this comfy couch. Tonight will be the beginning of a new life and despite how in love you are, there’s no guarantee that this won’t go sideways. Tonight, the moon is full and bright, you can see it clearly through the patio window. The stars around it are also just as beautiful, and it makes you feel peace. The same moon and the same constellations shine for you, they’re always there, adding life to the deep-blue sky. When you look up and see the still beauty of the night and its moon and stars, you breathe in contentment. As long as the moon glows and the stars kiss the dark of night, it’ll be okay – you’ll be okay.

#taehyung #taehyung stalker au #kim taehyung #taehyung assassin #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung mafia au #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts stalker au #bts scenarios #bts mafia au #don't breathe

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historic-old-guard-lover · 4 years

Note

Historically Booker’s native language would be Occitan and not French . He would also probably deeply resent standard / Parisian French since the government did their damnest to erase regional languages and still do it today .

Agreed! There was another post about this, but since I got an ask (I love you, anon) I’ll elaborate. Buckle up for a primer on the evolution of the French language with a brief aside for troubadours, traveling musician-poets you wish were still a career option. No, being a rock star is not quite the same.

In the early medieval period (as early as ~900CE), the country we now call France had a language divide between the northern and southern regions. In the north, they spoke langues d'oïl which is what eventually became modern standard French. In the south, they spoke Occitan or lenga d'òc and a modern form of this language is known as Provençal. Looking at the regional sub-dialects, the more northern Occitan begins to sound like a langue d’oil and the more southern dialects begin to sound like Spanish.

As I touched upon in a previous post, this is because they all share similar roots as a romance language. Even though modern standard French is a langue d’oil, occitan managed to sneak a few things into the language. If you’ve learned French as a second language, you’ll know that when you respond yes (oui) to a negative question (you don’t like cheese? / tu n’aimes pas le fromage?) that you use a different yes (si). This is a skeleton of Occitan!

The why of the invention of “standard French” is, as most “standard” things are, a detour into nationalism. In 1635, Cardinal Richelieu (under Louis XIII) founded the Académie Française (French Academy) which was tasked with standardizing the French language so that it could be exported to the rest of Europe and used to gain further prestige of the role of French philosophers during the Enlightenment. During the French Revolution, it was disregarded, but Napoleon Bonaparte restored it as part of the Institut de France (Institute of France) in 1803. To this day, the Académie is tasked with publishing the French dictionary and inventing new words for things such as “e-mails” so that the French needn’t stoop to using English loan-words.

Another part of this was the Toubon Law (August 1994) which required French (the standard French from the Académie) to be used in all official documents and advertising. It required all advertising to use French and even set a certain percentage of music on the radio that must be French. This law was literally the government going “let’s make the French french again.” If a school doesn’t instruct in French (modern, standard French of course), then they can’t receive government funds. The only exception is Breton-language schools (Breton is as north as it gets and is a langue d’oil so it still helps crush Occitan).

Since the previous paragraph probably made you mad as heck, let me give you some irony to laugh at: some French people refer to this as the loi Allgood (“law” Allgood). To explain this joke, it helps to know that Toubon is the last name of the Minister of Culture at the time the law was passed. If you break down his last name, it sounds like “tout bon” in French which translates to “all good.” People took this law saying make everything French, goddammit and replied, sure thing Minister All-Good. I love it.

Now, for the troubadours! I learned standard modern French in high school, but at university I came across Occitan because of those romantic poets. I’ll put this aside below the break so you can continue on with your day if for some reason you’re not interested in medieval French rock star-poets...

Let me begin by quoting the Wikipedia definition:

A troubadour was a composer and performer of Old Occitan lyric poetry during the High Middle Ages (1100–1350). Since the word troubadour is etymologically masculine, a female troubadour is usually called a trobairitz.

Right away you may notice a few things: 1) they wrote and sang in Occitan; 2) it was an equal-opportunity field (though it was rare for a woman to be one). The first Troubadours were mostly noblemen, but later ones could come from any social class. Yes, you read that correctly: egalitarian travelling poets! If that doesn’t sell you on these performers, I don’t know what will. The troubadours spread their tradition throughout Europe and the only thing that could stop them was the Black Plague.

As you’d expect, they mostly sang about love. A lot of their poems were about courtly love and chivalry, but they could also get bawdy. The especially good performers would be sought after by courts like famous painters. Troubadours are essentially the apex bards: romantic, witty, charming, talented, and able to make serious bank.

To finish this, I will leave you with one of the bawdiest troubadour poems I know of, Farai un vers, pos mi somelh (The Ladies with the Cat) by Guillem de Peiteus. It’s essentially the story of a dude who has sex with these women who pick up a knight on a pilgrimage (though it plays with reality and this guy’s fantasies). I’ll include it in the original Occitan, and then a translation by Robert Kehew (I believe), verse-by-verse. Forgive me for my commentary in between, but I just want you to understand how freaking clever this poem is!

Farei un vers, pos mi somelh Em vauc e m’estauc al solelh. Domnas i a de mal conselh, E sai dir cals: Cellas c’amor de cavalier Tornon a mals.

While sound asleep I’ll walk along In sunshine, making up my song. Some ladies get the rules all wrong; I’ll tell you who: The ones that turn a knight’s love down And scorn it, too.

The singer is establishing himself as a troubadour. The protagonist is dreaming, so we should be careful about what is real and imagined. He’s also invoking the trope of the philandering knight constantly falling in love and breaking his heart.

Domna fai gran pechat mortal Qe no ama cavalier leal; Mas si es monge o clergal, Non a raizo: Per dreg la deuri’hom cremar Ab un tezo.

Grave mortal sins such ladies make Who won’t make love for a knight’s sake; And they’re far worse, the ones who’ll take A monk or priest-- They ought to get burned at the stake At the very least.

The Middle Ages were not at all chaste; yes, monks and priests were having sex. This isn’t as sexist as it may come across on a first reading however. He’s not saying women shouldn’t have sex (he’s actually saying that it’s a sin not to being having sex), he’s just upset that women who are clearly willing to have sex are turning *him* down. He’s not going to get any awards for feminist of the year, but he’s not the worst. I’m sure this would rouse cheers from a tavern.

En Alvernhe, part Lemozi, M’en aniey totz sols a tapi: Trobei la moller d’en Guari E d’en Bernart; Saluderon mi simplamentz Per sant Launart.

Down in Auvergne, past Limousin, Out wandering on the sly I ran Into the wives of Sir Guarin And Sir Bernard; They spoke a poper welcome then By St. Leonard.

These are recognizable locations along a pilgrimage route. There’s a good chance that these names are replaceable (Bernard can be replaced with any last name that rhymes with a saint) and this song could be used to goad the audience. And no, he hasn’t had sex with these ladies yet. They’re just saying hello (for now).

La unam diz en son latin: “E Dieus vos salf, don pelerin; Mout mi semblatz de bel aizin, Mon escient; Mas trop vezem anar pel mon De folla gent.”

One said in her dialect, “Sir Pilgrim, may the Lord protect Men so sweet-manned, so correct, With such fine ways; This whole world’s full of lunatics And rogues, these days.”

I think most would agree that this is happening in the knight’s sex-dream because she’s just sweet talking him. The awesome part is that the “dialect” reflects the singer actually adopting a Northern French language (they’re mutually intelligible). Guillem didn’t have to go that hardcore, but he did.

Ar auzires qu’ai respondut; Anc no li diz bat ni but, Ni fer ni fust no ai mentaugut, Mas sol aitan: “Barbariol, babariol, Babarian.”

For my reply--I’ll swear to you I didn’t tell them Bah or Boo, I answered nothing false of true; I just said, then, “Babario, babariew, Babarian.”

This guy just mocks their accents as a reply. Wildin’.

So diz n’Agnes a n’Ermessen: “Trobat avem que anam queren. Sor, per amor Deu, l’alberguem, Qe ben es mutz, E ja per lui nostre conselh Non er saubutz.”

So Agnes said to Ermaline, “Let’s take him home, quick; don’t waste time. He’s just the thing we’d hoped to find: Mute as a stone. No matter what we’ve got in mind, It won’t get known.”

In this stanza we see two repeats and a new thing. First, the names are easy to replace (Agnes doesn’t even have to rhyme with anything) so that this can be done to call out a specific woman’s name. Second, the language skills are being flaunted again as this Occitan-speaker is just casually showcasing that he can sing about sex in other languages too, thankyouverymuch. Lastly, this is WOMEN voicing their desire, not men. The man is silent, they think he’s incapable of speech. This is two women in a poem/song getting to steer the story how they please. Stepping back, this is a guy’s sex-dream so you could argue he’s just got a kink for dominant women, but regardless that’s a pretty cool way to turn masculinity on its head.

La unam pres sotz son mantel Menet m’en sa cambra, al fornel. Sapchatz qu’a mi fo bon a bel, El focs fo bos, Et eu calfei me volentiers Als gros carbos.

Under her cloak, one let me hide; We slipped up to her room’s fireside. By now I thought one could abide To play this role-- Right willingly I warmed myself At their live coals.

Yes, this dude is saying he’s more than happy to let the women take charge. Don’t kink-shame him.

A manjar mi deron capos, E sapchatz agui mais de dos, E noi ac cog ni cogastros, Mas sol nos tres, El pans fo blancs el vins fo bos El pebr’ espes.

They served fat capons for our fare-- I didn’t stop at just one pair; We had no cook or cook’s boy there, But just us three. The bread was white, the pepper hot, The wine flowed free.

A capon is a castrated rooster, fattened for eating. He’s being fattened (and emasculated by letting them take control) before the women get down to their fun with him.

“Sor, aquest hom es enginhos, E laissa lo parlar per nos: Nos aportem nostre gat ros De mantenent, Qel fara parlar az estros, Si de renz ment.”

N’Agnes anet per l’enujos, E fo granz et ac loncz guinhos: E eu, can lo vi entre nos, Aig n’espavent, Q’a pauc non perdei la valor E l’ardiment.

“Wait, sister, this could be a fake; He might play dumb just for our sake. See if our big red cat’s awake And fetch him, quick. Right here’s one silence we should break If it’s a trick.”

So Agnes brought that wicked beast, Mustachioed, huge, and full of yeast; To see him sitting at our feast-- Seemed less than good; I very nearly lost my nerve And hardihood.

So yes, he’s joking about almost loosing his boner and there’s that language play again. The big part of the ending, however, is the imagery of the red cat. Cats are typically associated with women, and the color red tempts the mind into thinking of it as female passion or some kind of prowling sexuality (with undertones of evil). The subtext here is that they’re going to test him by letting this cat scratch him up to see if he’ll cry out. If he can keep his mouth shut and allow the womens’ passions, he can stay. If he can’t, he’s out. Ultimately, I’m going to say that this poem is subtly for women’s empowerment. Go scratch up your knights, ladies.

#the old guard #historic #reference #sebastien le livre #booker #french #nationalism #language standardization #occitan #troubadours #i wish i was as cool as troubadours #so underappreciated #asks #lovely anon

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instantelephantmix · 2 years

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How weird cat books shaped my life: a personal Warriors essay

I think we all have something we got into at a young age and we're still a fan of today. Sometimes that thing is way, way more important than you even realise.

When I was a young child, I had pretty stereotypical interests - I liked doodling, watching cartoons, and reading books about animals. I always did like animals a lot, especially cats, I was always living with at least one cat while growing up. The first two I remember were Moët, he was fluffy and timid and ginger-and-white, and Hemingway, or more commonly called Hemmy as nobody wants to shout "Hemingway" up the street when they want their cat to come home.

Above: Hemmy looking dumb.

When I was around 7, I was taking a look around the children's section of my local library and saw something I'd noticed my older sister reading recently. Warrior Cats: Into the Wild. I just wanted it because I liked the cover and I liked cats, and my parents allowed me to take it despite it being rated 9+. I think that, if they'd been stricter, I might have been an entirely different person - who knows though? I just know that those Warriors books hugely impacted my interests and hobbies.

I started reading and god, I was obsessed. There was something about the culture and history of these fictional wild cats that was so intriguing to me, but still simple enough for my young mind to digest. Being a homeschool kid who hadn't fully accessed the internet yet, I had no friends at all, so my family had to look at all my terrible drawings of fighting cats and endure me talking about them.

Below: a bad drawing of Sol from long, long ago. He has a giraffe neck.

There was something I always wanted though: a Warriors TV show or a movie. Ten years later we still don't have that, despite all the talk of a movie being in production. Where the hell did that go? But luckily, fans of the books had started making their own adaptations. Enter the late 2000s and early 2010s, the time of SSS Warrior Cats - an animated Youtube series based on the first book. I asked my mum if I could watch it and she allowed me to, opening up the door to a whole new portion of the internet.

youtube

Gone were the days of playing Flash games on the Cbeebies website, I had youtube! This was a massive inspiration to me, I decided I wanted to be an animator. Obviously I wasn't as skilled as the SSS team, I still don't think I am - but I tried.

Above: a run cycle animation from around 2015. My older animations are all sadly lost to time, the program I made them on was discontinued so I have no way of opening my old files.

Below: a new run cycle, 2021.

But over time, each member of the SSS team quit, and the channel became a wasteland with the series left unfinished. What was I to watch? How would I satisfy my desire for edgy animated cats? That was when I found Dimstar's Past, a series based on Warriors OCs, which also inspired me a lot. I think the creator turned out to be homophobic, which is a massive shame - but "separate the art from the artist", as they say.

I'd now seen these OCs, and I'd seen my sister writing stories about characters she liked, so what if I were to create my own Warriors and tell their story? While I'd written a few short, low-quality stories in the past, as most kids do, I think Warriors fully inspired me to write. I created "Rootstar's Past", a complete and obvious rip-off of Dimstar - but the story still exists in my mind, albeit very altered since then. I never even finished the first version. As I learned and became a better storyteller, I created better characters and more thought-out stories. Eventually I moved on from cats and wrote about more "human" characters - a lot of the time they aren't actually human, but they act like it.

Above: Rootstar's 2013 design, and his 2020 redesign.

Warriors also got me into roleplay, through playing Roblox and exploring forums, which further developed my writing and "impulsive storytelling" skills. I really miss the old Warriors Roblox games, like Lake Territory - morphs and maps may be better these days, but they don't hold the same charm at all. (For those who don't play Roblox - a morph is an object that the player can take the appearance of, though a button or GUI, to create looks that wouldn't be possible with the regular avatar editor.)

Above: Forest Territory, an old Roblox game. Notice the very cylindrical morphs that I still love.

I remember how I met my first real friend through Warriors roleplay. She was older than me, I was only around 9 when she was 16, but we got on surprisingly well. Me and my sister have the same 7-year age gap, so I was used to it. We shared other interests too; Five Nights at Freddy's, Undertale, and later Harry Potter. Sadly she was banned from Roblox and I never saw her again. I hope she's okay, whatever she's doing nowadays. I fondly remember our extremely angst-ridden characters - poor Soul, she could never get a break.

I made so many memories in those games. Playing in "Fan Clans" with magical powers, laughing at newbies who'd never read the books (don't get me wrong, I wasn't a rude person, but I was badly influenced by those who were), making the most complex morphs possible, creating cat romances, making drama... I want something like that again, but unfortunately roleplays don't seem to have any heart to them these days. Or maybe I'm the one who's changed? I don't know for sure.

There's one more interest that Warriors brought to me, although it's a very childish one. I won't go into too much detail because of that, I don't think anyone will care that much, but it does belong in this post.

As well as animation, there was another thing I saw people making short films and series with - Littlest Pet Shop toys, those stylised animal figures that Hasbro makes. They're not everyone's cup of tea, but I have to admit I fell for them and ended up collecting them. With the cats I made several Warriors fanseries and posted them on my mum's youtube channel, where they remain to this day. They're all unlisted or privated though, and I don't plan to show them to anyone, they were genuinely terrible. Maybe if I'm very drunk one day, or I don't care about my reputation, or someone pays me for it.

Below: my Littlest Pet Shop cats.

These days, Warriors doesn't hold quite as much significance in my everyday life. It still means a lot to me though - I like learning about the new characters, making my own, and doing art and animation for the community. It was my first fandom, and still my most consistent. I imagine its importance to me will only decline over time as I grow up and find new interests, but who knows? Maybe it'll stay with me forever.

Warriors probably made me into a furry, at least indirectly. I can never forgive it for that.

So what else am I doing? What fandoms am I in? I like Doctor Who, vampires, and I'm studying Digital Media in college, if that's of any interest to anyone. I still play Roblox and collect LPS, and I animate (very slowly).

Oh, and it's my birthday. Happy birthday to me. I'm 17 now.

#warriorcats #warriors #ramble #nostalgia sort of #artist journey

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mylutteoheart · 3 years

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You’re My Sun

Okay, so I wrote this overnight because I had way too much inspiration and I couldn’t sleep because of it. But I was inspired by someone who suggested this concept and I thought I’d give it a shot. This is honestly a cute concept.

find my other fics here

Luna and Matteo sat down on the benches in the locker room after a long and hard training. There was a competition comping up soon and Juliana wanted to make sure everyone was ready. This competition was important to Roller as it is an international one.

"I can't wait to go home and lie down." Luna sighed "Today was exhausting."

Matteo just smiled at her, thinking about how adorable she could be sometimes.

"Are you coming with me to eat dinner at the mansion? " Luna asked and looked at Matteo, hoping he'd say yes.

"I'd love to." he answered and started taking his skates off.

When he was done and he was waiting for Luna to be ready. His mind started wandering. It's been a while since Luna found out she was Sol. He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of that, they never really talked about it. There was too much going on so they didn't take the time to sit down and talk about it.

When he turned to look at her, he was staring at her for a while. He still didn't believe they were together again. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. He cherished every moment they spent together because he loves it whenever they spent time alone.

Matteo took advantage of the silence that hung between them and asked the question he's been wanting to ask for a while now.

"Luna?" he started softly, not wanting to startle her since she was so focused on untying the laces of her skates.

She looked up at him and gave him her undivided attention. Wanting to hear what he wants to ask.

"I know we never talked about it but I've been wondering something." he paused for a moment. Gaging her reaction, she seemed to get more curious by the minute. "Why do you tell everyone to call you Luna instead of Sol? Don't you like being called by your birth name?"

Luna didn't expect this question but answered as honestly as possible anyway. "I don't know." she shrugged her shoulders and continued, "All my life, everyone has called me Luna. I don't really feel comfortable hearing people call me Sol. I'm not used to it."

"Does that mean you don't like the name Sol?" Matteo kept asking.

"It's not that I don't like the name. It's just weird. Why do you ask?" she was confused about why he was asking all these questions.

"Just wondering." he answered nonchalantly, seeming to be lost in thought.

She didn't answer him and they decided to go on their way home. Luna was certain she'll find out more about his weird behavior later on.

*** The next day, Luna and Matteo were training by themselves to perfect the choreography, considering they're the protagonists of this performance.

They were laughing and having fun. Bantering in between the moves like they always do.

After a while, they took a break to get something to drink and rest. They were sitting on the bleachers. Looking at the others who were skating on the rink.

Matteo put an arm around her shoulders, enjoying this moment of peace amongst the busy rink. She leaned her head on his shoulder. It became a habit after doing it so many times.

"We did good today. I think we're going to kill it during the competition. I'm sure you will shine on the rink as always, Sol." he tried carefully, testing the waters. He's been wanting to call her that ever since their talk yesyerday.

Luna shot up at hearing this and looked wide eyed at her boyfriend."What did you just call me?" she said softly, not sure if she heard it right.

He gave her a sheepish smile and scratched his neck. He was nervous about how she'd take it. "I called you Sol."

"Why did you do that?" she was more than confused now.

He looked down at the ground. "I know you'd prefer I call you Luna. But I thought it would be nice to call you that, the name suits you."

Luna didn't say anything and Matteo got even more nervous and he started to ramble: "I mean it's okay if you don't like it. I'll just call you Luna and Chica delivery then. I just thought it's a beautiful name and it describes you perfectly. You always shine like the sun in my eyes. You just make the day more brighter for me and that's why I thought using your birth name was a good idea but again, I'm totally fine with you not liking it, I'll jus stop calling you Sol then. " he took a deep breath after his ramble was over. Where did that come from? He thought. The things she does to me, she has no idea.

She laughed at his rambling. Not believing what just happened. She loved seeing that side of him.

Matteo suddenly felt really self conscious. He didn't know what to do. So he waited for her to finish laughing and listen to what she has to say.

"Oh, Matteo, you're so cute." she pinched his cheeks for further emphasis. His cheeks started turning red. It was because of the pinching, he told himself.

"What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to worry." she started fidgeting with her fingers, a little embarrassed. He took her hands and squeezed them to show that he's there for her.

"If I'm being honest. I kind of liked it when you called me Sol." she continued. It felt weird to say, it felt even more weird that she only liked being called by her birth name by Matteo.

Her boyfriend's frown turned into a breath taking smile in a second."Really?" he asked to be sure.

"Yeah." She mumbled, looking down at their intertwined fingers. Rubbing her thumb on his knuckles softly.

He didn't like that he couldn't look into her eyes so he put a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards. Wanting to get lost into her green eyes. He gave her a teasing smile and asked: "Does that mean I get to call you Sol from now on?" he secretly hoped she'd say yes. He liked the name way too much not to use it.

"I guess." she shrugged, seemingly not interested but secretly excited about the prospect. "But you're the only one who gets to call me that." she added quickly.

"That makes it even better." his typical Chico Fresa smile now on his face.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment and he couldn't resist to glance down at her lips. He leaned down, wanting to feel her lips on his. She quickly noticed what he wanted and started to lean in as well. Their lips touched in a soft embrace. Which quickly turned passionately, not being able to get enough of each other. They pulled apart after the need of oxygen was getting obvious. They smiled at each other, quickly forgetting about their surroundings. It truly was a perfect moment for both of them.

*** After a week or so. Luna started getting more and more comfortable with the name Matteo was giving her constantly. He couldn't call her by real name enough times and she didn't mind.

One day, they were cuddling on the couch. One arm wrapped around his waist and the other stroking up and down her arm. Her head was resting on his chest and her arms were wrapped around his torso while they were watching a movie.

"So what do you think will happen at the competition, Sol?" Matteo asked after the movie as over. He always had a huge smile on his face whenever the name Sol left his lips.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully at his behavior. He couldn't resist the urge and poked her nose after giving her a peck on the lips.

"You're so unbelievable." she ignored his question.

"Do you mean so unbelievably handsome, smart, funny, romantic?" he suggested

All he got as an answer was another eye roll.

"You wound me, Sol. I expected more from you." he continued. He always loved her reactions whenever he did this. She was just too adorable.

"You're so conceited, chico fresa." she shook her head in disapproval. "I can't believe I still up with you."

"You do it because you love me." Matteo raised an eyebrow.

"How that happened, I don't know." she stated.

"That's because I'm irresistible. Like you are, my Sol." he was serious when he said the last sentence. "Just as the sun, you're too bright and irresistible not to love you and I love you so much. You are my Sol and you always will be."

She crashed her lips onto his after this. She was not able to put into words what he made her feel so she showed him. He did not hesitate to kiss her back. For him, she would be his Sol and much more than that. She loved him so much that she couldn't believe she could feel like this.

Because even though he calls her his Sol all the time. She felt like he was her sun as well and here and now, in their bubble, she knew that she would never feel like this ever again and she was okay with that because they were each other's sun when the days are engulfed in darkness and that's all that mattered.

#soy luna #lutteo #my soy luna fic #luna valente #matteo balsano #SL fanfiction

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nafeary · 4 years

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“Therapy Session”

⚬ Pairing: No romantic pairing.

⚬ Characters: Dazai, Isaac (mentions of Arthur, MC, Leonardo, and Napoleon)

⚬ Word Count: ca. 2,5k

⚬ Warnings: mentions of anxiety/panic attacks

⚬ Genre: mostly angst, Confused Newt™️, fluffy ending

✧✎ Synopsis: Dazai refuses to open up. Isaac refuses to see people as humans instead of equations. Perhaps, the time was ripe for the residents to pull the strings behind the scene.

✧✎ A/N: @arsnovacadenza HERE IT IS!!! I haven’t written in ages, so after fending of good ‘ol writer’s block, it took a while to finish this. I hope that you will like this, sweets... I’m not usually self-conscious, but I’m just like 😣. ENJOY AND DRINK WATER!!! (I might change the mood board into a banner... I dunno man.) ALSO, pls tell me if the read more link isnt working... y’all know how bitchy tumblr is.

Dazai couldn’t remember much of his mundane life; nay, he preferred not to.

Most of this mortal coil had been spent in debauch; whoring around, neglecting his studies, committing attempt over attempt at ending his breath. He wrote it off as a tragedy, preferring to build the plots of his own stories rather that the one of his being.

Life is fleeting. For some it is akin to the joy of chasing butterflies, flower fields embedded in their sundry wings, fluttering away with no worries plaguing their minds.

For most, however, these nonchalant butterflies aren’t an omen of euphoria and felicity. They are the begetter of anguish as it sails beneath the wrong colours, maelstrom’s created by the fortune of others. Destructive. Noxious. A storm ready to destroy one’s entire motivation and spirit. Whether it be in form of capitalism or a simple shtick.

Life is unkind.

Thus, the author didn’t see the point to relieve any of his memories... but one particular scene kept his mind awake. It was fuzzy, fuming paper assaying to its destruction.

But what he could remember was a certain tale relayed to him as the moon reigned mighty, futon feather-like below his boyish body, and a tranquil voice would envelope his senses until all he could see was the palette surrounding him sponged into shadows.

He remembered the fable of a celestial guardian, a dragon so gentle it prefers flying as to not bring harm to a single organism of life. The birth of a human signified the birth of such dragon, a Kirin. It acts in protection of benignant households, as the unseen force guiding them back to morality. He was told his cousin’s birth foretold the creation of their guardian.

As a mere child, he believed these words. He believed that someone would shield him, serve as a warning sign for impending danger.

He believed someone would come to open the cage he had locked himself in. He believed someone would burn its cover, guiding him to long-lost light. He believed someone would teach him to take flight again.

He believed.

“Unlock the godforsaken door, you insolent fools!”

Sir Isaac Newton was annoyed. Horribly aggravated. Excruciatingly narked. And more so than usual. His ire had multiple fountains, one of these being these insolent fools that had chosen to bolt the room, muttering something akin to “therapy session”.

If he had to be plain, he expected such action from the frivolous author and his partner in crime (a young woman who had arrived a few months prior, the second humane addition to their otherwise monstrous community).

However, the physicist hadn’t expected Leonardo and Napoleon to agree to the couple’s notion.

Another cause fueling his irritation, like a mosquito buzzing to and fro and disregarding any clemency, was their reason for imprisoning him.

“You heard our condition, ‘ol boy,” the voice of the reformed Casanova reverberated. “Neither of you are leaving that room until you’ve talked. Thoroughly.”

That’s right. He wasn’t the only one.

His attention redirected to the owner of the lair they were currently stuck in, simpering away in his wonted manner. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that their predicament was the Japanese man’s fault.

Dazai Osamu was a pest. The neighborhood rascal ringing every door’s bell, pestering everyone’s existence with the sole motivation of garnering the final laugh. As of right now, he seemed to have succeeded in his mission.

“Are you satisfied now?” He couldn’t help the prominent sneer from forming. “If it wasn’t for your countless jests, we wouldn’t be here!”

Dazai spared him another nonchalant smile, moving to take a seat at the dark mahogany desk. “Do not fret, Ai-chan. They’ll open the door... eventually.”

A few hours had passed, and the warmth in Isaac’s chest, welted into disdain and anger, had mellowed his mind. Enough so as to admit that he might have been one of the causes of their situation, too. Frankly, it was due to the atmosphere Dazai’s room granted.

Soft and gossamer strands of alabaster light enlightened the room in a serene glow, aiding to the eminent scent of books. The smell was slightly musky, akin to aged paper, but a comfortingly nostalgic vellichor. Outside, a symphony created by Mother Nature herself resonated; tree branches rocked against each other urged by the gentle breeze as insouciant hummingbirds frolicked their sweet tunes.

It wasn’t his first time to share the author’s company in his room; on the contrary, the well of his silent animosity sprang forth from their last meeting (which had rendered him drunk on accident). Seldom at most, Isaac would traipse across a formula he just couldn’t solve, but Dazai was without compare.

He had barely asked for a sliver of information, the wish to befriend Dazai more genuine than ever. Alas, aiming to divert the topic, he had been fooled into a lull of folklore.

Hurt. It pained him to admit it, but Isaac was hurting.

With nothing else to occupy his mind, his eyes wandered to the fibster whose orbs told fables of the sun. Clad in purple, his hand was infallibly hidden beneath the fabric of his traditional (and knowing him, probably slovenly worn) garment, choosing to hide his cards just like everything else.

The empyrean galaxy of spotted crystals did not appear unlike the author; thus Isaac always found himself discovering their contrasts. He didn’t like the man, but he was a sight to behold, just like his beloved sky.

Dazai was ethereal, be it his fluid manner of dipping his feather into the abyssal ink pot, his elegant smile adorning his cheeks, or his voice carrying the voice of chiliad angels, or—

“If you continue staring at me, you’ll make me blush~”

Having been caught red-handed, the exclamation sparked an oppugnant reactions, leaving his cheeks at the mercy of scarlet apples and making him want to bury himself beneath mounds of bedsheets.

Declining the teasing and averting his head to the side , Isaac said “I suggest we pretend to have discussed our... quarrel. You know they tend to worry endlessly.”

There was a subtle shift in the nuance of Dazai’s posture, almost resembling a covered bird’s cage, waiting for its turmoil to be revealed.

“Don’t delude yourself.”

It was barely a transient whisper, lightsome yet so immensely heartsore Isaac had to halt, processing if he’d heard correctly; the uncharacteristically deafening scratching of a pen sliding across paper deepened his shock.

...this was what Arthur had meant when discussing the possibility of Dazai’s mayhem. That void in his eyes.

Quite possibly, were the physicist to reflect upon his following thoughts and actions, cruelty and manipulation reigned the battlefield in his view. Oblivious as he was, he never realized his actions to have a much purer and innocent fount, rather than for the single desire of gaining knowledge.

After all, love was more than just a unique concept to him; whether it be platonic or intimate, it had always seemed so... afar. Unreachable even. An unfamiliar ground, ruled by sweet chaos.

...it was utterly absurd! He sank his brow into the the palm of his hand. Why was he so worried for the fellow vampire? They all had issues, didn’t they? They all carried baggage from their previous life... so why did he care so much about the author’s troubles?

Isaac couldn’t possibly still want to befriend him?

...Nay, it was his insatiable thirst to solve every equation, surely. And he was a scholar with the sole purpose to solve the equation of this world, and its variables finally seemed to arrange in his favour.

Said variable being Dazai’s unforeseen display of trauma.

“You cannot possibly believe that they’d ignore your vacant spot at dinner,” Isaac started, alert in his tone. “Especially Arthur’s... whatever-she-is-to-him will succumb to her usual tendencies.”

The other vampire wasn’t smiling at him, no, his facade was an eerily empty one, unlike any of his expressions he’d laid his eyes on. Not only his smile was void, his eyes had lost their habitual mirth as well. Black holes mirrored in the pupils of his eyes.

“Besides, it’s not like you don’t enjoy our company...”

By then, the black hole kept growing, threatening to swallow him. Its intense stare prompted goosebumps to litter his skin, vulnerable. He’d never seen this sorrow portrayed by the charlatan.

To hell with it. He wanted to leave the discomfort.

“Listen, I’ll let you jest me without complain— for today. So can we please just agree to have talked?” he asked. “Or we could talk... whatever makes you happy, I suppose.” He tilted his head, closing his eyes in thought, peeking one opened as he waited for Dazai to reply.

“Go ahead without me. I’ll stay here, Ai-chan,” he declared, glee pulling at his lips as if he wouldn’t have just waddled in some unknown swamp.

“They’ll ask me questions about it, you know?”

“Very well.” Isaac’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. That was all it took for him to open up? “Dazai Osamu isn’t my real name.”

He was about to snap, irritation bubbling in his voice at the useless information he used to dodge the topic once again, but was able to stop himself. Epiphany chasing away the storm clouding his mind, he realized an important piece to solving this equation.

It was something Arthur had droned on about, one of Dazai’s works, No Longer Human. The protagonist wore a facade of hollow jocularity as he was unable to present his true self. Additionally, a piece of yourself slithers it’s way into every piece of art you create... according to Leonardo, at least.

A facade of hollow jocularity... observing the male opposing him, that phrase seemed gruesomely familiar.

“You still haven’t answered me,” he told the Author.

“Pardon?”

“I asked whether you’d be happier wit—“

“My happiness mustn’t be your concern.”

Muscles tensed as these eerie words coursed through his mind, nature’s symphony from earlier drowned out by it’s unforgiving echo. Albeit, as much as he desired to crawl someplace secluded, apart from dealing with human emotion, his mind dictated his stay.

Mustering up the courage from the depths of his heart, he spoke, “But you aren’t weak, Dazai.”

The man visibly startled, arm jerking violently into the desk, garnering a quiet foreign-sounding curse. Isaac took the opportunity to join Dazai’s side, blasé to the anxious trembling of his own lip.

“Arthur is quite familiar with your works, and I kept one particular quote in remembrance.”

The Japanese almost seemed to cower in his seat, shoulders hunched as he held his throbbing elbow.

“The weak fear happiness itself,” he recited to the best of his abilities. “As far as I’m concerned, weak doesn’t exactly describe you.”

As if he’d burned a bird cage’s linen, breaking its lock open only for the bird to panic in distrust, Dazai flew up into a stand. Eyebrows scrunching as his mouth spit bigger poems.

“How could you know? How could you possibly know of all my fears?”

Isaac’s feeling of helplessness commenced its intensity, pushing his shoulders to earth’s core. But he couldn’t stay his efforts then.

“I don’t need to. Seeing you standing before me gives me enough reason to believe so.”

“I ended my own life.”

He had to control every fiber of his being to rule his body into submission. The waltzing hairs couldn’t be precluded from showing their discomfort, however.

“Do you realize what this makes me? I’m a coward— a coward who only stands before you to— to—“

Had he finished his sentence, it would have been incoherent at best. Isaac could only watch as the author’s shoulders sacked into themselves, chest jumping in no particular pattern. His fingers snaked around the pristine fabric, just above his heart, as though he tried to confine the bird once again.

He was having a panic attack, a foe not uncommon to the physicist himself. But how could he possibly act as a cure when he was the disease?

Barely conscious of the act, his hands curled around the man’s iron grip; they struggled to enshroud the pain of his throat constricting, mutating the simple feat of breathing into a conquest of charging air puffs.

This wasn’t his domain. He’d never had to be along side a troubled person, inclined to walk the earth alone. There was no need for a circle of brethren when he had his formulas that constructed his life.

Humans were no formulas. And Dazai was no equation. His feelings were no variables. Isaac battled to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t continue striving in solitude.

He realised that that must have been their reason for locking him inside the vicinity. The constellation of empathy coming undone before him. They’d wanted him to accept the fact that he couldn’t live like the everything could be solved in the same manner as his mathematics.

He’d show them. He’d create a formula solely for him, just as he had created multiple ones for every other problem he had encountered.

“There is a phenomenon, a mirage at the end of a horizon—“

“A-Ai-chan—,”

“Just keep quiet for one minute,” he snapped, “I know that is strenuous for someone as verbose as you, but right now, allow me to talk.”

If it was possible to solve an equation by keeping to a formula, surely it was the same for humans? But life was unique, every being disparate, an especial star.

“It distorts the objects, rendering it unrecognizable,” he elaborated. “Such phenomenon is referred to as Fata Morgana.”

He’d commit perjury were he to claim that he was calm. Forces of all kinds threatened him to collapse onto all fours, leaving him at the mercy of his lungs to commence his breathing. Yet, he kept his facade of cool determination, the fear of the man further breaking stronger than his own.

“I don’t know of all the horror you might have gone through,” he said. “But perhaps, it is distorting you to think that you are undeserving of happiness.”

“I—“

“Perhaps, you simply don’t realise that you standing here doesn’t mean you are a coward, but that you are strong.”

Before he even realised his body’s efforts, he already felt silken fabric caressing his cheek as his arms pulled him toward the other man. Choosing to ignore the charlatan’s droplets of anguish falling onto his shoulder, he shuffled his feet as he didn’t know how he should position himself.

“As such, I believe that your happiness is indeed my concern.”

He made a mental reminder to thank Leonardo for his philosophy books later, grateful for the lessons he could convey.

A rough, yet mellifluent laughter enveloped his ears, the urge to scratch where bouts of air were tickling his ear were stilled by the comforting notes.

“Who knew you were such a charmer, Ai-chan?”

His blood running a marathon across the veins of his cheeks, he drew his face nigh into the men’s chest in an effort to mask his crimson shade.

“Shut up.”

Dazai truly did believe in his guardian hitherto. Especially as the man brushed with the faintest of cherry blossom petals embosomed in his arms.

And Isaac might have been unable to teach the bird to take flight again, unqualified of the task himself, but perchance, they could aid one another to learn the art of raising yourself to face the winds, leaving them no choice but to carry you.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen headcanons #ikevamp #ikevam isaac #ikemen isaac #ikevamp athur #ikemen arthur #ikevam arthur #ikemen dazai #ikevam dazai #ikemen leonardo #ikemen napoleon #ikevam napoleon #ikemen angst

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broken-clover · 4 years

Text

AU-gust Day 5- Post-Apocalypse

Ah. Um. Okay. This one is...sad. I mean I guess it kind of is by nature because of the theme? I wanted this to be upbeat and I feel like I missed the mark by a longshot. Wound up crying when I wrote this and tbh it’s probably half-coherent but here please take it. I promise I’ll do something less...this, next time

A massive bonfire lit up the tepid night, licking at the sky with every breeze and stick tossed onto it. Though he could make as big a fire as he wanted with just his hands and a little magic, Sol found a subtle beauty in nurturing a small kindling until it grew powerful enough that it only needed to be contained, swiftly gorging itself on whatever it came across and standing up to buckets of water that once would have been able to smother it a dozen times over. Almost like raising a child, in a way, though at least fire was easier to keep an eye on. And less raucous.

“Hey, old man!”

Speak of the devil. Sol shook his head with a smile and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah? Thought you were supposed to be harvesting with your dad.”

Sin’s hair was as wild as it had ever been, though it took a little bit longer now for it to scrape the ground than it did before. It seemed easier and less labor-intensive to let it grow out into a shaggy mass nearly as tall as he was before lopping it all off. Sin used to be so intent of keeping it short at all times, but one could only go for so long being so hypervigilant before it turned to boredom and apathy. The only reason he even cut it at all was because of how he would trip over it while hunting and doing chores.

“I wanted to see if the fire was almost ready.” He pushed some of that messy hair back over his shoulder. “Besides, harvesting is boring, I’d rather help with the fire instead of having to carry stuff.”

Sol sighed, prodding the edge of a fire with a stick. “You’re nearly five billion years old, and you still complain about chores like a toddler.”

“Learned from the best!” Sin smirked back.

He was going to fire a retort back, but he could practically hear a little voice in his head chirping ‘Just let it go, Frederick. You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.’

“You’re right, you’re right.” He mumbled to himself.

Sin crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine! I’ll sit over with uncle raven then!”

The pale-haired man turned as sin approached the log he was on. “I’m afraid I won’t make for the best of company.”

“Still better than the old man! You use a lot of big fancy words and don’t yell at me when I slouch!”

“Sol!” A voice called from somewhere behind. As expected, when he turned towards it, he found Ky and Dizzy following, each carrying a large basket of greens.

“Figured you’d be longer. The brat didn’t exactly make it easier for you.”

“Well, I suppose a little mischief is alright for tonight.” Said Dizzy. “We were still able to find enough in the field for all of us to have plenty.”

Ky nodded. “And still plenty of leftovers, too. Little bit of mashed fruit, some potatoes, that cheese Raven made three years back, we have a lot! So make sure everyone eats well tonight. Not like we have to save it for anything.”

The man’s expression remained bright, but Sol’s fell. He looked back upwards. The midnight sky was a pale blue, hardly darker than midday. He couldn’t remember when it was truly dark enough to see the stars. Even the moon was little more than a vague crescent. At least the weather was tolerable, even with their hardy bodies, the days had become too hot to withstand, even in the underground bunker they’d shared for the last century or so. The sun was growing bigger and bigger every day, practically enveloping the sky. The few hours of ‘night’ were the biggest relief they got, so it made sense to make the most of what they had left.

Dizzy put her basket on the ground and began pulling out cobs of corn. “Where is Axl?”

“Said he was going on a grocery run.” Replied Ky. “I’m not sure what era though.”

That got Sin’s attention immediately. He sat up stick-straight. “Ooh, he’d better bring back something really good! Chips?”

“Mmm, shame he can’t go back to my time and bring back some of the treats I had in my youth.” Raven said wistfully. “Would probably attract too much attention.”

Sol idly thumbed at the dented lighter in his pocket. He’d run out of cigarettes, and had nothing to occupy his mouth. “He’ll be back whenever, not like he has any sense of deadlines. Just our luck, he’ll skip right past-”

As if on cue, a deep black abyss spiraled in the air nearby, crackling and popping for a moment before someone hopped through, carrying several bags.

“Right on time!” Axl cawed, raising a hand and walking over. “Glad I didn’t miss the party. I brought the food!”

Sin leapt out of his seat and scrambled towards the man, eyes shining. “What did you get? What did you get?”

“Easy, mate, I brought enough for everyone.” The plastic crinkled as he pulled out a variety of different things- packaged hamburgers, snack cakes, fresh fruit, and other things Sol didn’t bother taking note of. He only moved to catch a package of cigarettes as they were tossed to him.

“Maaan, this is much better than being stuck with vegetables!” the youngest’s eyes shone like he had been presented with a priceless treasure. “Jeez, how long’s it been since we’ve seen plastic bags? I think those all broke down ages ago.”

“And to think, people always used to say how wasteful they were, and how long they would take to break down.” Raven quipped, with a blithe little smile. “And now they’re impossibly rare relics.”

“Glad to provide!” Axl did a little bow. “Today, we enjoy the last swiss rolls in existence! Technically speaking.”

The feast started up soon after. Makeshift pots were set up for boiling vegetables, the leftovers were reheated over the fire. Axl’s food was bizarrely pristine alongside everything else, but nobody treated it as anything peculiar. Merriment followed the food, though it mainly just amounted to idle chatter and reminiscing.

“It’s delicious! Very well done.” Ky beamed, though Sol just knew it was bland, at best. “Corn’s so much different than it used to be, but I’m glad we still have that much. Reminds me of that one banquet, uhh, when was it? I seem to be blanking...can’t think of the millennium. I know there were still people back then, does anyone else remember the one with the corn sculpture?”

“Hmm.” Dizzy said. “Was that the one where Leo fell into the courtyard fountain after he drank too much?”

Ky thought for a moment in silence. “...Leo?”

“Scruffy blonde guy, had his own dictionary?” Sin offered.

“It was the first time you were king.” Added Sol.

“First...ah! Now I remember.” He nodded. “Goodness, that was forever ago. It’s hard to keep track. If I told my childhood self that someday I would become the ruler of thirty-five separate nations, I don’t think I would have believed it.”

“I tried once.” Axl replied, between bites of corn. “You thought I was bonkers. Kid-me said the same thing. Guess I don’t blame ‘em. I can hardly believe it sometimes. And I’ve been at this forever!”

“Mostly forever.” Corrected Raven.

“Oh sod off, birdie. B’sides, I could make words mean whatever I want ‘em to. There’s six of us! Who’s gonna stop me from saying ‘cold’ means hot and ‘hot’ means freezin’ your balls off!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Ky interrupted him. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to celebrate. Sin, could you please pass me a hamburger?”

Sol couldn’t take this anymore. “I’ve gotta take a smoke break.”

They all seemed confused by his sudden outburst, but let him leave without too much trouble. He found a place in the wooded thickets that was secluded, where nobody but him could see the way his fingers trembled as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Not even the animals were there to judge him. He couldn’t remember the last time those had existed, anyway.

So when the dead reeds began to rustle, he nearly jumped out of his skin. That was stupid of him. It had to be one of the others. Knowing his luck, it would be Sin, pestering him with enthusiasm and trying to drag him back to the fire, or Ky, with those big, soft, sad eyes that still managed to be able to throw him off guard.

“Chief?”

Shaggy blonde and dirty red bobbed in between the reeds, until Axl emerged right in front of him. How many centuries had he owned the same bandana?

“Chief, what was that about?”

Sol huffed, taking a long drawl of nicotine. “Jus’ needed a breather. I told you.”

“Don’t you toy with me.” The other’s voice softened. He pulled out a cigarette from his own pack.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’ve done just about anything that can be done.” Replied Axl. “I’m serious. What’s wrong? Why did you run off out of nowhere?”

He didn’t want to start a fight, not now. But even at a time like this, it felt preferable to admitting his feelings. It felt like a boulder was on his chest. “How can they be so…”

“So…?”

“So...happy? We can’t take anymore of this. Even if the sun doesn’t consume the planet tomorrow morning, the heat will incinerate everything on the surface and then some. How can they find it in them to celebrate? I know that whole family can be naive, but you and Raven-”

“Sol.” Axl cut him off, softly but firmly. “We know. They all know.”

The answer seemed obvious, but it still felt like a blow to the chest. Sol kept his expression hard and unreasonable. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” He said back. “God, why would I lie to you now? It’s the last bloody day in the world, what do I have to lose anymore?”

The space went quiet. The weight only seemed to grow heavier.

“You know, I’m older than the rest of you.” Axl sighed in dismay. “So, so much more. I’ve done this before. Never been this kind of fun, though. I guess I just needed to get hamburgers? Hehe…”

Sol refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on a glowing bit of ash as it fell to the ground. “You don’t have to be here, y’know. Unlike the rest of us, you can just bail.”

He was met with a slow shake of the head, a patient smile, and sagging shoulders. “I’m an old man, chief. I might not look it, but I’m the oldest thing in the universe. More than you, and Sin, and even Raven. I’ve seen the universe begin over and over again, and every step of it after.”

“And?”

“And I’m tired. I’m really tired of all of this. I’m done. The universe is falling asleep, and I finally want to fall asleep with it. The end of it all is the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to see. It was so tempting at times, but I knew that, even with all of my abilities, I was only capable of living once. I tried changing time. I tried seeing what else there was in the universe. But it all came back to this. Just a handful of people, waiting for it all to end.”

The way his jaw clenched made Sol nearly bite through his cigarette and break his teeth. “Were you the one to tell them, then?”

Another shake. “They’re smart, Sol. I didn’t have to tell them anything. I’d feel so lucky, if I were you. I couldn’t think of anyone better to spend so many eons with.”

It wasn’t right. None of it. But no matter what, Sol knew it didn’t matter. He could spend every last moment of his life screaming and clawing in an attempt to change anything, but there was nothing he could do now. Just a moment of silence before the apocalypse.

So he followed Axl back to the fire. Sol put on one of his rare smiles and hunkered down to chat, regaling dozens of lifetimes with the only people who knew could understand what such an existence was like. The rise and fall of nations, births and deaths and the many long years in between. Wars and peace and prosperity and poverty. Hope and love and crushing despair and the ever-flicking light of human spirit that let them carry on so long, even as the world had begun to end.

Sin ended up falling asleep first, slumped against his mother. Raven and Dizzy and Ky had followed suit eventually, huddled under blankets as Sol glanced between them and the fire.

“Don’t you want to sleep?” He asked his only companion. “I can take care of putting this out.”

A hand slid around his waist. “I want to be with you. Just a little bit longer.”

Sol managed a smirk. “Seems like a waste. You could use it for sleeping.”

He felt the hand trembling slightly, and cling to his clothing. “Is it...is it bad that I’m afraid of being alone for this?”

“No.” Replied Sol, wrapping his own arm around Axl’s body. “It just means you’re human.”

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #sol badguy #Axl Low #there are other characters #but I won't tag them

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magnesiaandlemonjuice · 4 years

Text

Friday 22 December 1826

7 1/4

11 50/60

the magnesia does very well for me, not acting too much like medicine - In my salon at 8 5/60 - fine morning finished dressing - at my desk at 8 55/60 - finished my letter to Miss MacLean (vide yesterday) wrote the 2nd end and much under the seal, and a few lines across one end, all very small and close - what I extracted yesterday took up about the latter 1/3 page 1 and 1/2 page 2 - the following is about 1 or nearly 2/3 of page 3 after promising to write regularly I go on to observe

‘you give me no hope of seeing you here - you doubt whether you should like Paris in ‘my way’ as I do - what way is that? Perhaps you mistake it a little - I am sensible of the merits of the place for edification, and amusement, and salubrity, and the general purposes of living in all the comfort that money can purchase - but I am patriot still, and British to the bone - were it not for my aunt, I should have no thought of settling here - But what can I do? we sometimes talk of going farther south - The question is whether, when it comes to the part, my aunt can bear the journey? - I know not what to think - On leaving England and on arriving here, her life seemed not worth 1/2 a years purchase - Since writing to you last, she has changed so wonderfully for the better, she may continue for a dozen years - The climate has been of very great service, and till this last day or 2, she was really as she said, quite well - Even now that she cannot walk about quite so well, it seems merely a temporary effect of the weather - we had had a little sleet and drizzling rain all the morning, the 1st time we have had the 1st appearance of snow in its smallest shape - One might have hitherto walked, and sat out in the Tuileries gardens every day excepting 1 or 2 rainy days - and one might indeed, have walked there well enough this afternoon - I was not aware of having given you to understand that, in the event of anything happening to my aunt, I should positively and immediately return to England - She has desired to be interred here; and this might, or might not, according to circumstances, make so little difference - Be this as it might, you would probably see me soon - At present, however, I have not, as before, this to muse upon; for my aunt, tho’ very infirm, appears in no sort of danger - It is extraordinary that my 2 letters should give such opposite accounts - but such is the fact, a fact certainly beyond my calculation when I wrote to you last - ‘I am happy MacDonald still pleases’ - this sentence struck me at the time, and strikes me now - were we on terms more formal, I should still be cautious what I replied to this, grateful always for the Trouble you took for me; but, as it is, I shall write exactly what I think at present - It was difficult to find such a person as we wanted, without some fault or other, or if not a fault, some failing in what we wished for - I begrudge spending much paper on such a subject, especially as, on the whole, we go on pretty well - My aunt sometimes complains of carelessness on the part of MacDonald, and that she seems as if she did not always know what she was about - there are 2 things I have never named to my aunt, Miss Reed’s last letter (on her return from Bath) and a circumstance that occurred at Shibden - I have more than once spoken seriously to MacDonald I abominate what looks like prevarication and since a talkathon last Monday, I have had less confidence in her than ever - Her head is certainly not clear at all times - whether she has any thing on her mind, or any thing in her blood to confuse it, I know not - She is always very obliging, and cooks for us very nicely, and can do quite well for my aunt - Had she never the appearance of being so oddly confused, she might be invaluable - I shall probably speak to her no more - She is not in my province - Enough - It is probable you do not give me much credit for knowing how to manage woman servants - Mrs Lawton could no more understand her than myself - Perhaps if you were here, you might excuse us both - But breathe not a word of all this - we shall go on as we do, - well enough - and you shall give me a practical lesson 1 of these days in housekeeping, which, by the way, pothers me not a little just now’ -

….. Breakfast at 10 20/60, read about 1/2 the paper, and had done all the above of today at 11 1/4 - ‘How do you and Mr Lawton agree? ‘I thought you did not at all like him’ there was a time when we did not agree; but we both thought better of it, and agreed to agree in future - He does not like York, so never goes there’ - Say we shall change our apartment - on account of ‘a kitchen 2 stories above us - bells that the servants cannot hear &c [etcetera] &c [etcetera]’ - altogether a very long, kind letter - sent it off at 11 1/2 to ‘Miss Maclean of Coll, Tobermory, N.B. Ecosse’ - Settled my accounts - dawdling over 1 thing or other - took George and went out at 1 3/4 - went to the potshop rue Saint Honoré numero 357. ask 5/. for basket panier de couteaux rue du marché Saint Honoré Numero 42. the woman asked George 3/. for it the other day - asked me 1/50, and I could get it for no less but could have had the other set for 1/25 at another shop merchancer the rue neuve des petit champs when I bought the large vegetable basket sometime since - thence to Bertaud rue neuve des petit champs Numero 33 - nice little pot of marmalade oil abricots very good à 1/50, but did not buy it - Roquefort cheese 2/. a lb very good - from de Parma (Parmesan) 2/40 a lb - thence to Berthellemot Palais royal for bonbons - Chinois &c [etcetera] 6/. a lb. all things of this kind 6/. a lb - said I had paid only 5/. - they declared it could not be - bonbons 6, 8, 10, 12/. a lb. - they said at last ‘nous arrangerons’, but I walked off determined to try elsewhere - bonbons 8, 10 and 12/. in the rue de Richelieu - just before coming to Saint Roch very nice figs in a little box at 2/. a lb. might have the box for 3/. allowing 2oz for the weight of the box - stopt at no. 334 and bought the plaqué tea-pot (vide line 7 page 60) for 29/. then got a little porcelaine sucrier à l’Anglais made me 1/75 tho’ only asked me 1/50 in the morning and another blue finger glass at the cheating pot-shop Numero 357 (rue Saint Honoré) and then some oranges and marrons, numero 353, and sent George home - I called at Melleriod about the plate, and bought some bombons à 8/. à la Belle Angelique Numero 25 Boulevard des Italiens - the boy followed me home with them - came upstairs at 4 - Dawdling over 1 thing or other (seeing that my money was right) till 4 20/60 then thro’ the gardens to the Faubourg Saint Germain to order wine chez meurice Numero 21 rue des petit pères - went up the rue des augustins almost to the end of the street then turned back a got right - ordered 2 dozen macon for the servants at 1/05, and 1 dozen for ourselves (red Beaune) and 1 bottle white Beaune à 2/. a bottle and 1 bottle Champaigne à 4/. and 1 ditto Bordeaux Lafitte à 4/. to come tomorrow morning - Got home (thro’ the place du carrousel) at 5 1/4 - Dawdling over 1 thing or other till dinner exactly at 6 - shewed the teapot &c [etcetera] - she hoped 1 could afford it - on telling the cost she was satisfied -

on speaking afterwards of the dessert she said it was all for Mrs B I said I would have as much every day for only myself with my own consent and if π [Mariana] came and I hoped she would manage it so we might have nine plates of dessert without costing very much my aunt only hoped that what ever I did I should manage to have a few franks for her to go out airing in the summer I said this sstruck me exceedingly she should always have as many franks for this purpose as she chose I would order no more about the table I had meant to agree for her to have the carriage twice a week it was she who prevented me she saw she hat touched a tender cord and began to lament her always ssaying what she thought it was all for my sake and she was crying but I told her what she had said she would know must strike me if she thought about it a minute I would rather go without dessert all my life than abridge her of the carriage or anything else I would rather be hundred more in debt she dried up her tears and we talked of macd our now frequent subject thought I to myself well no more thought beyond what is absolutely necessary I will save my money said I would not interfere about the table I see I had best make up my mind to a little more hugger mugger than necessary to enter into society it out of the question remember save my money and do not fidget my aunt by attention to desserts and appearances of this ssort I had thought of getting better teacups I shall give it up and will spend as little as I can begged my aunt to order the carriage whenever she liked - but we were very harmonious afterwards -

at Michel’s this morning as my eye casually glanced over the order book I saw an order for the Tasburghs rue Royal Numero 13 - from 9 1/4 to 10 wrote the last 38 lines - wrote a little note this morning to Mrs Barlow to ask her to order more charcoal for us. George took the note after leaving me - the charbonier chanced to call this evening to inquire if we wanted any - ordered it for tomorrow - we consume a sack i.e. 12 boisseaus in 3 weeks - charcoal 9/. charbonier for bringing 14 or 15 sols - made minutes of what I have to go tomorrow. no time to settle my accounts tonight - go to my room at 10 1/2 very fine day - O [two dots, marking discharge]

extraordinary my cousin does not come ought to have been with me wednesday week -

[Margin] ver[y] fine mild morn[in]g F40 at 8 1/4 a.m. 44o at 12 1/2 p.m. 41o - 6 - - - 10 1/2 -

SH:7/ML/E/10/0033 & SH:7/ML/E/10/0034

#December1826 #AnneLister #GentlemanJack #AnneListerCodeBreaker

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

Text

Friday 21 May 1830

5 1/2

11 20/..

Fahrenheit 62˚ at 5 3/4 a.m. – fine morning – streets dry after all the rain last night – off at 6 35/.. – (without breakfast) took fiacre on the boulevard to my apartment rue Saint Victor – Monsieur de Mèrbel’s 2nd lecture from 7 33/.. to 8 1/2 – took a little ink stand this morning (1st time and found I could very comfortably take my notes in ink – much better than pencil – lecture on the internal structure of plants as seen with the naked eye and with a loupe – breakfasted very comfortably on my brown bread and 4 sols worth of good milk at the laiterie in about 10 minutes, and home at 8 3/4 –

At my desk at 9 – I find this French ink so bad I really must write to Miss Maclean to bring me a bottle in addition to the 2 bottles sent by Sowerby with the books – read over what I wrote yesterday to Mariana mention the talk between Lady Stuart de Rothesay and me about going to the Pyrenees in July, and had very kind letter from Lady Gordon last week, and if I go from home at all this summer and not with the Stuart de Rothesays shall probably go with her – ‘she asks if I will go to Spain next – what I shall do, of course, I cannot tell so long beforehand – But all this is quite between ourselves – I never name any of my maybes to anybody but you – I shall, I hope, see you again one of these days; and you may be quite at ease, whatever I determine on’ –

Wish her not to forget, when she has time to remember, French and the use of her pencil – mention Amici’s camera lucida – and Miss Maclean’s intention of being off from London on the 27th – then wrote a little more mention my good breakfast for 7 sols – (milk 4 sols – bread suppose 3 sols) – ‘the luxury of life is independence with a competence – I often enjoy leaving at home carriage and servants, and stealing in among the petit monde, and seeing how it is, that some can live where others would starve – In fact the carriage is at the coach makers again, for the present – Do for pity’s sake believe, that a certain portion of the ‘mammon of unrighteousness’ is absolutely necessary; and let us all do the best we can for living not starving – Let us have the option of having carriages and horses, and all that the world deems comme il faut – we can leave them at home as often as we like – I should be thankful to get you into this way of thinking – If Charles thought as I do, I should not trouble myself about your opinions; for he would take care to provide for you to the utmost of his ability – he would move heaven and earth, and leave brick and mortar forever as they are at Lawton, to leave you not induced to less than five hundreds a year after having shared with him more than as many thousands – How times are changed! I, who never cared for money till you taught me, am now to teach my teacher! well! do what you think best, - but remember that living where others would starve might be even to you less easy, and less comfortable than you may have sometimes imagined, were you obliged to try it – Do not, I beseech you, mistake me – I mean nothing which ought to annoy or disquiet you for a moment – all I ever ask myself is this – How is that she who, in early days when life, and hope, and friendship, all were young, could do so much – how is it that she should seem so careless now? Charles pays all now; and you are rich – Have you misunderstood me? tell me honestly – if you have, I never dare let another word upon the subject escape me in joke or earnest’ –

Had written the last 1/2 page 3 and 1 1/2 end of my letter to Mariana very small and close, and so far of today at 10 3/4 – at which hour and before this Fahrenheit 70˚ - then wrote a full 1/2 sheet and 2 1/2 pp. of another 1/2 sheet to Miss Maclean exceedingly kind letter – long to see her but not impatient – beg her do what she is persuaded is best, and take her own time, and rest a day or 2 at Boulogne set her at ease about having so long prevented my asking anybody – ‘making always such exceptions, including yourself, as you perfectly well understand, I care less and less about having anybody with me – I am never at home till evening, and then my aunt, and dinner, and going to bed, are quite enough – It was from last August to October that so unsettled me – you were my physician and balm of gilead, in that case – I am well enough now, and could go on long enough in this way, if nothing occurred to rouse my memory from her slumbers – you do me the greatest kindness to come – the next greatest to leave me the power of saying I can ask no one so long as I am expecting Miss Maclean you always miscalculate your usefulness – Do set your mind at ease on this point – were it not for you, I might feel some obligation to do one or two things I escape now – Besides, if I take it into my head to wish to go from home while you are with us, I shall make no scruple…….It will amuse you to find how I consume my time, and how immeasurably little I trouble myself about anyone for whom I do not feel some interest at heart’ –

Then read over what I wrote yesterday to Miss Hobart dated Friday (today) but mentioning its being a fête day, just wrote over the sentence’ ascension day Thursday not Friday’ – ‘Have you got any more stories lately? the cuisinère of an English family that was here in the winter went the other day to Madame Galvani, to entreat her to try and get her a place – ‘Oh! mon dieu! Madame! Madame sait bien que quant ou sort d’une maison anglaise, ou a bien de la peine à en trouver – personne ne vous vent, parci qu ou a tout de suite la main rouiellée Madame Galvani Et pourquoi ça dout? mais madame [suit] bien que ces anglais ça ne fait pas comme tout le monde – ça mange des radis et du beurre aprés l’entremet!’ I hope that inimitable ça ne fait pas – ça mange – is not lost upon you – Ever affectionately yours AL’ –

Had just done all and written so far of today at 1 1/4 – at 1 1/2 letter from Mariana (Lawton) 3pp. ends and under the seal – she and Mr Charles Lawton had a most providential escape from a thunder storm – the horses took fright and ran away – luckily ran into a hedge – narrowly missed throwing them into a horse-pond where Mariana would have been undermost, and where, if not water enough to drown them, they would have been very seriously inconvenienced – she glad I have not ordered the gowns – my explanation of the modes so clear, Watson can do all that is required –

Explains about money matters if I had only myself in view I do not hesitate to say I should think very little of the subject with regard to you I know your habits are yearly becoming more expensive therefore I should be glad to feel that I was likely to bring more to the exchequer than was sufficient to cover my own expenses of dress and maintenance and those who have hitherto benefited by any over plus in my income must of course be minus any future advantage now bearing in mind that these were the thoughts that dictated the sentence in my last which you have transcribed I am quite at a loss to guess what idea presented itself to you when you wrote immediately after it –

‘I shall not comment much upon this paragraph – it must surely be unnecessary; for you yourself on reading it over, cannot fail to be struck with much that cannot fail to have occurred to me’ – now, my darling if you wish me to know what did occur to you, you must explain, for in truth I cannot guess for in my conscience nothing ought to have occurred but a very satisfied feeling that at least I was not mercenary, and should not cost more than my own means would provide. In as much as I cannot bring myself to say more than I have already done on money matters you may perhaps think I am still unconcerned but I do not mean to say, that I would throw away any just or fair way of improving my pecuniary advantages’ – August cottage given up – Charles could not get the money without a mortgage, and would not (could not)’ give that – filled the other end of my letter in answer to Mariana saying I was satisfied – had I had her letter the 1st thing this morning, should not have written what I did some hours ago – all I meant was one could not prudentially be indifferent on the subject of money matters –

Mariana’s argumentation not very logically deducible from the paragraph in question she writes heavily and formally and I like not her style she may well talk nowadays of not being mercenary when she will have her jointure and my fortune to come to she could be mercenary for herself when she married Charles but she cannot now be mercenary for me? the fact is I had better see her again and see how she pleases me nowadays I have my doubts [I] not she is changed?

Sealed up the envelope containing my letter in envelope to ‘Miss Maclean 1 half sheet full and 2 1/2pp. of another 1/2 sheet unluckily not sealed, and this and 1/4 sheet letter full to Miss Hobart in envelope to ‘Miss Hobart Honourable Lady Stuart’s Whitehall’, and at 2 5/.. gave this to George for the Embassy, and gave him for the great post my letter (3pp. and long ends small and close) to ‘Mrs Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire, Angleterre’ –

Somehow I knew of leaving the letter to Miss Maclean unsealed but unluckily did not think of it might be disagreeable if Miss Hobart saw line seven from the bottom of page last but one –

Had just written so far of today at 2 55/.. – then till 4 3/4 reading over Mariana’s letter, and writing her 1 page and 4 lines very small and close –

In answer to the crypt on the other side –

A useless day this for science – I will take care to have less to explain with Mariana in future –

Lovely day – I read last night while undressing and this morning in the fiacre [Δcɑλojos] à, my school edition nonnulli è Luciani Dialogis (London 1726), and brought the book and my Greek grammar here with me this morning – off at 5 1/4 – sauntered along the quais – home at 6 25/.. – dressed – dinner at 6 3/4 – came to my room at 8 1/2 – settled with George – said I was much annoyed at the answer he gave me yesterday – he said he was very low – very well, said I, you have been in the family almost 10 years you ought to have known me better but the next time it occurs I shall take it as a warning – now take notice if I say I will do a thing no entreaty can prevail –

On coming home this afternoon found on my desk long rigmarole note from Monsieur Saint Romain explaining who he is, fancying from my asking on Wednesday at Daly C’s why he adopted the name of Saint Romain that he ought to give me a long explanation for fear I should think him wishing to make himself greater than he really is – nonsense – sat musing – violent thunder storm between 7 and 8 – very heavy rain and loud thunder and lightning even till now after 9 – coffee at 9 5/.. – came to my room at 10 25/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 65 1/2 – fair, but raining heavily till about 10.

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #Mariana Lawton #Miss Hobart #Miss Maclean #1830

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tenspontaneite · 5 years

Text

Boundless (Chapter 1/?)

A powerful arcanum needs a powerful outlet. Where none exists, magic will create one, or kill you trying.

Callum’s human body isn’t enough to withstand the boundless power of the Sky Primal. But magic always finds a way.

(Or: Callum gains the Sky Arcanum, and swiftly thereafter begins to grow wings.)

(Chapter length: ~8k. Ao3 Link)

Preword: For the record, I’ve been planning this story since s2, and wrote this chapter and most of the next in the week following the 10th October. I have edited this chapter by a very small amount to make it align more fully with s3 canon, mainly for descriptions of early season scenery. If s3 made you hungry for wingfic, you’ve come to the right place!

Story warnings: I’m a lot more into wing and feather biology than a lot of wingfic authors are, and also I believe in making my characters pay for their goodies. As such, this story starts off much more ‘body horror’ than ‘glorious magic materialisation of wings’. As the story progresses, it’ll go into significant detail about wing-related anatomy and biology.

Chapter warnings: Blood, pain, body horror. Edging into gore territory for some of it, though it’s relatively short-lived. Also, milder warnings for suffocation and emetophobia.

—

The first time Callum cast aspiro by virtue of his own arcanum, it was living triumph. A culmination of all the thought and fear and inadequacy that had chased him through the week, and the realisation of what his deathly dream had taught him. The magic of the Sky was around him and within him and everywhere, and as he cast his spell it settled like a spark into his heart. He felt it every breath thereafter, every second, with every gust on the cliffside and glimpse of the blue-above shivering through him like another kind of life.

It settled into his blood like the air did, it coursed through his bones and flesh and sinew – the Sky was a part of him and he was a part of the Sky, the understanding of it sinking deeper and deeper with every minute that passed. By the time he’d said farewell to his brother, the arcanum was as viscerally-rooted in him as his own skeleton, a precious and irrevocable part of him; a channel that opened him up to the vast and boundless magic of the Sky.

He and Rayla and Zym walked to the Breach, and if he noticed the ache in his back, he thought nothing of it. After all, hadn’t he spent hours today convalescent upon hard stone? It was only to be expected.

—

The second time Callum cast aspiro from his own breath and magic, it was amidst heat and urgency and the dread of a rising sun. The magic surged in him as he spoke and wrote and breathed, the feeling of it effervescent and electric at once, crackling in his blood and bubbling through every inch of him. It ached. It burned, too, but wasn’t that just the heat of the Breach? He worried more about directing the wind-gust from his lips, and watching Zym’s wings catch the air like twin sails, and seeing how great a shadow a young dragon could cast.

And when they were safely across, and Callum and Rayla threw their arms around each other from the pure relief of it, her arms around his shoulders were startlingly painful. Like pressure against a livid bruise. But the adrenaline of their success was enough to forestall the flinch, and she noticed nothing.

But when they drew apart, Zym cheerful and victorious between them, the ache at his shoulders didn’t leave. As though Rayla’s touch had wakened it, or perhaps awakened him to it, and it became insistent enough that he paid it notice he hadn’t earlier.

“You alright?” Rayla asked, as she showed him along the canyon-paths into Xadia, as he twisted his hands behind his back to pat cautiously at his shoulders.

They hurt, to the touch. Sharp and raw, like the worst bruises he’d ever had. Like blistering skin. “…My back is kinda sore.” He admitted, with a light frown. “Maybe I bruised it, or something.”

She blinked at him with a glimmer of concern. “…Well, hopefully that’s just from sleeping funny on a cave floor.” She offered. “Or maybe you hit yourself during your dramatic collapse earlier.”

He eyed her, fingers lingering on the fabric over his shoulders. “Dramatic collapse?” he repeated, uncomprehending.

Rayla averted her eyes. “When you…unchained the dragon.” She elaborated, and didn’t say when you used dark magic, and he knew at her expression that she hadn’t quite forgiven him for that.

“…Maybe.” He agreed, uncomfortable, and thought of the way the power of it had swept through him, heady and dark and burning. How empty he’d felt afterwards; hollowed-out and aching, like an empty husk.

Sky magic didn’t feel like that. His second aspiro had ached too, but not like the hollowness of the dark. Not like everything beneath his skin had been scooped out. More like…the magic had put too much back in. As if there was too large a force for too small a space, and his skin couldn’t quite hold it. He wondered, for a fretful moment, if the power of the Sky was too vast for him. If even the barest spark of it that was his arcanum was stifled in his too-human flesh.

Rayla watched him, unusually sombre, for a few more seconds. Then she reached out to pull his hand from his shoulder, and tugged him onwards by the fingers. “Come on, stop messing with it.” She said, deliberately light-hearted. “If you’ve hit your back you won’t do it any favours by picking at it.”

“I’m not exactly picking at it.” He complained at her, but allowed himself to be pulled unresisting further into the Xadian borderlands, where the canyon-tunnels widened out into the bright glow of red rock beneath the sun, where that same sun gleamed upon something gold and glittering and huge-

“Welcome to Xadia!” Rayla said, and when she saw him staring, turned to follow his gaze. Like him, she saw the immense shining form of the Archdragon, stopped short, stared with perhaps more horror and less awe than he did. “Oh no,” She breathed, utterly dismayed. “It’s him. It’s Sol Regem.”

And then they were entirely too busy figuring out how to bypass a dragon to worry about his back.

(The third aspiro, wielded against Sol Regem, might well have burned, and might well have seared; but there was no room around their desperate attempts to escape for him to notice it. If he was aware of the pain, it was in a very distant way, far-removed from the far more immediate issue of their survival. They passed into Xadia, and neither commented on the spell that had saved them.)

—

Later, when they were together and more-or-less unharmed past the gauntlet of a former-King, there was a little more space to breathe. A little more space to feel the Sky brimming up against his skin, to feel the breath almost too-deep in his lungs, like there was too much of it, like the air was filling him up like a balloon and he’d burst any second-

He only noticed that he’d fallen when Rayla caught him, his scarf still a vibrant streak of red about her neck. “Callum!” She said, alarmed, as she insinuated herself under one of his arms to hold him up. She put her arm around his shoulders to complete the support – and at the slightest pressure against his back, he cried out in pain. She released him as though burned, and then barely managed to catch him before he crumpled fully to the ground. “Callum,” She repeated, when all he did was breathe in quick shallow bursts, rather than answer. “What’s wrong? Is it your back?”

He was too-full of air, too-full of magic. He’d burst. He couldn’t breathe, but he had to. Near to hyperventilating, he sucked in more and more and more of the Sky with every second, and felt it brimming in his flesh, swelling his lungs, and it hurt. “No,” He managed, after another several conspicuous gasps. “I mean – yes – but not-“ He had to break off for another half minute, torn to pieces between the feeling that he couldn’t breathe and the utterly paradoxical sensation of his lungs filled past their capacity. The primal panic of breathlessness was a far more immediate thing than the searing pain on his back, though, and so much harder to resist. “Can’t breathe.” He said to her, when he found enough space between suffocating and bursting to speak.

He barely had the presence of mind to see the worry written all over her as she ran her eyes over him as if to inspect him for signs of damage. “Haven’t you suffocated enough for one day?” She asked him, with some asperity, as if it could disguise the fear in her eyes. “I hope you’re not planning on making a habit of this.” Gently, she pressed fingers against a point on his wrist, perhaps to feel the hummingbird-pace of his heart.

Callum tried to laugh, and the requisite loss of breath left him spluttering for long painful moments. “Sorry,” he said, once he had found some equilibrium again, and then descended once more into gasping, sucking in air as if there was none left in the Sky. But there was. There was so much breath, too much, too much to hold-

“Dumb prince.” She muttered to him, worried but achingly fond. She supported him upright, so that he was sitting up, and held him there, a hand on each of his shoulders, carefully away from his back. “Callum. Look at me.” She said, with such sudden command that his frantic breath stilled for a second, just to look at her. He stared at her as she stared back at him, and clung to the eye contact like a lifeline in the tide of breathless panic. “…Good.” She nodded, a little, and he abruptly realised that he wasn’t gasping so desperately now. The breathlessness was a constant pressure, though, and as he noticed it he started wheezing again – Rayla shook him, and the surprise of it stilled him again. “Just breathe.” She told him, in a way that was by now terribly familiar.

Hadn’t he heard it, drowning in the dream-state? Hadn’t he heard her? Hadn’t he heard the words from her lips, before he heard them from his mother’s? “…Trying,” he managed, still caught in the eye contact like a ship to its anchor.

“I know.” She said. “Just…try to breathe more slowly. Deeper, I guess.”

He tried. It was hard when the gasps kept bursting into his attempts at deep, steadying breaths. Harder when the pressure of breathlessness increased, even as the pressure of too-much-air decreased. The former was harder to bear than the latter – suffocation was death, but pain was only pain.

…But, by the sharp and tearing ache in his chest, he was reminded that some pains did lead to death. His lungs felt too-full. Like they really would burst.

He breathed through the panic, and did not suffocate, and did not rupture.

When his breathing was into more of a normal rhythm, and he seemed calmer, Rayla relaxed a little and lowered her hands from their urgent place on his shoulders. He managed to keep himself upright, and appreciated it more than he could say when she took and squeezed one of his hands. “Is it the dark magic again?” She asked him, after a moment, and he had breath enough to speak.

He closed his eyes, just briefly, and felt the Sky brimming beneath his skin. “No.” he said, shaking his head, vehement. “It’s not – it’s the Sky magic.” In the new sense of calm, Zym finally found space to insinuate himself between them, settling his front paws into Callum’s lap and looking up at him with wide worried eyes. He lowered his other hand to the dragonling’s mane, and felt a little calmer at the contact.

He could feel the Sky beneath his fingers. It was in Zym, too, but…settled, in a way it wasn’t with him. It belonged.

“The Sky magic?” Rayla repeated, after a second, clearly startled. “But – why? It’s Primal magic – it’s…natural.”

Water was natural, too. But it could still drown you.

He shook his head, almost more to clear the thought than as a response to her. “It’s too much.” He said, and then shuddered at expressing it. “It’s like – I’m filling up with Sky magic, and – and there’s no way out for it, and I’m just…” He raised the hand from Zym’s mane to wave frustratedly in the air. His voice trembled worse than his fingers. “It feels like I’m going to explode. I – I don’t think humans are made for Primal magic, Rayla.” His heart sped again, this time in a different fear, and she stared back at him with a furrowed brow. “I – I think I’ve really messed up.”

Having spoken the words onto the air, they felt too real. What if he’d messed with something he shouldn’t? What if – what if the dark magic was only the first thing he shouldn’t have touched, what if humans just weren’t meant to use Primal magic, what if he’d bitten off more than he could chew and – what if it killed him?

This moment he lingered in, caught between breathlessness and bursting…he couldn’t keep it up, surely. Either he’d suffocate or he’d explode, and it was all his fault. His fault for grasping at something he was never meant to hold.

“Try casting a spell.” She said, after a moment, and the words were such a shock against his thoughts that they practically gave him whiplash.

“What?” He demanded, breathing picking up again, even as he tried to calm it down. “I say I’m full of too much magic, and your solution is more magic?”

She stared back at him, unrepentant. “Spells use magic, right?” She pointed out. “Maybe casting a spell or two will let off the pressure.”

Callum blinked. “That’s….” He frowned. “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

Rayla rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t sound so surprised.” She huffed. “Just cast your spell, alright?”

He considered her, and then considered the spell he hadn’t tried casting since the Primal Stone broke. The most powerful spell he knew. He nodded, slowly, and exhaled like it could relieve the pressure in him, and shuffled away. His fingers parted from hers, and still sitting, he raised them to draw in the air, the opposite direction from her. “Fulminis,” He said, with the breath he had, and the magic…changed.

It had been building in him, swelling in him, as aimless and merciless as water straining at a dam. There had been too much of it to sit in his blood, too much to fit in his lungs, and it had hurt. Too much breath, too much air, with nowhere to go.

The spell awakened it. That aimless, ruthless pressure went hot and bright and fast, like the sear of a lightning-flash against unprepared eyes, and the unleashed magic screamed through him with terrible purpose. It shrieked from his fingers, incandescent and sparking, and cracked through the Sky to shatter the quiet like glass. And then – in that moment-

His hands flinched back from the dissipating rune as if from fire, and flew to his shoulders. He gasped with pain, and hunched forwards the better to reach it, to feel something roiling beneath his skin, the lingering magic burning there like it had burned out of his fingers. Like it had unleashed itself upon some other conduit than a spell.

“Callum?” Rayla spoke, worried, when all he did was pat frantically at the searing pain on his back. “…Did it work?”

Was he imagining it? Was it just that his back was sore and swollen and the skin felt huge with the pain of it? Was it just his imagination?

“Callum.” She pressed, a second later, impatient enough that his head jerked over to look at her.

“Huh?” he thought. “I mean – yeah, kinda? But-“ The pressure that had built in him had released, in a way. He could feel it building again already, but – not all of that magic had gone into the spell. For a second – for a second, it had felt like – and now his back felt – but surely he was just imagining things.

…Well, there was one way to find out.

“…Could you, um, feel here for a second?” He requested, awkwardly, fingers still hovering over the pain on his back. “But – carefully.”

Her eyes flickered between his hands and his eyes, wary, but she leaned forwards, reaching out. He moved his hand to let hers pat gingerly at the spot over his shoulder-blade, and-

Any hope he’d had of it just being his imagination was soundly dashed the second her hand shot away again, eyes flying wide-open with shock. “What is that?” She demanded, in a strangled voice, nearly squashing Zym’s tail with how quickly she retreated.

He deflated. “I don’t know.” He admitted, a new fear beating in his chest. “It’s…I think it’s why my back is hurting.”

“There’s something on your back.” She told him, stridently, as if he hadn’t just figured that out for himself. “Is it – some sort of, I don’t know – did you break your shoulder, or something?”

For a second he entertained the brief and bloody image of a spur of broken bone jutting through his skin, and shuddered. “I think I’d have noticed that, Rayla.”

Her eyes moved from him to do a cautious sweep of their surroundings, and she exhaled. “We’ll need to take a look at it.” She said. “But…maybe we should try to find a good place to camp, first. If you’re injured…”

He grimaced. They had very little in the way of supplies, which had been okay up till now, but none of them had got hurt up to now either. “Yeah.”

“Can you walk?” She asked, quick and practical, and he considered himself.

He felt…okay. His back hurt badly enough now that it seared through him in bursts of pain that…pulsed, almost, like he could feel his heartbeat in the swelling over his shoulder-blades. But the pressure of too-much-magic and too-much-air was, for the most part, gone. He felt quite sure it’d be coming back, but….

“Yeah.” He answered, eventually, and rose to his feet.

She rose with him, and gave him a quick look-over before nodding. “Alright.” She said. “Let’s go.”

—

It took a while to find somewhere suitable to stop. The dry, dusty canyons of the borderlands began to give way to red rock studded with greenery, little waterfalls coursing down the vast cliffsides. In the distance, he could see the edges of a vast forest, but by mutual decision they made no attempt to reach it that day.

Instead, they settled for a sheltered little hollow in the rock, close enough to a river that he could hear the water burbling someway off towards the forest. By that time, though, the pain of the something on Callum’s back had magnified considerably, and he was gasping and wincing every time he moved. Every step felt like it jolted the searing, swollen agony that was building there, enough to send shocks of pain through much of his body. The fabric of his clothing over the skin felt too-rough, abrasive, and the whole area burned.

When at last Rayla ordered him to sit down and get his shirt off, he was almost too relieved at the prospect of – of removing the abrasion, finding out what was on his back – to be embarrassed.

Almost.

With Rayla’s help, he peeled off his jacket, gingerly enough to not pull unduly at the now very pronounced distension of his upper back. Then his shirt went too – and with only the thin undershirt in the way, it was evidently concerning enough to look at that Rayla cursed quietly. And then, feeling increasingly chilly and increasingly exposed, Callum divested himself of his undershirt, and understood the severity of whatever was going on by how utterly silent Rayla went.

“…What does it look like?” He asked her, once the fear of not-knowing had surpassed the fear of knowing, and the silence had stretched too long. “Rayla?” He prompted, anxiously, when she didn’t reply.

Very gently, she reached out and touched her fingers to the inflamed skin on his upper back. He flinched and jumped a little at the touch, her fingers almost startlingly cold on the burn of it. “….There’s something sort of…pushing up underneath your skin.” She said, after a moment, with the barest tremble in her voice. “In two places. Here,” Her fingers drifted, touching skin that wasn’t quite so painful, and then over to something that seared. “And here. Kind of….a little to the up and middle of your shoulder-blades, stretching down to here, on both sides.” Her fingers moved again, carefully gentle, and trailed a line down to maybe the middle of his torso. “It…looks pretty symmetrical.”

When she stopped talking, the silence resumed. He wasn’t at all sure what to say, and had to fight off the fear that gripped at his throat and made him feel increasingly breathless, increasingly – oh, but no, that was the…Sky-magic-thing, wasn’t it? He shivered, feeling the magic building in him closer and closer to that strange crisis point he’d reached earlier, not quite yet enough to hurt yet, but enough to make him want to gulp in air like he was drowning. And that was a thought, wasn’t it. “My back got worse when I used fulminis.” He admitted, a little hoarsely. “It was – almost like I could feel something moving. On my back.” He shuddered, all over, at the revulsion of the sense-memory.

She hesitated. “I’m…going to try pressing on it a little, alright? See if I can get any clues about what it is.”

He gritted his teeth, and nodded, bracing himself. “…Okay.” He said, grimly. “Do it.”

He exhaled roughly through his nose, stifling a cry, as she palpated one of the unnatural masses under his skin. It was unbelievably painful. It was beyond anything he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what she was saying, when she began to speak. “It’s…solid.” She informed him, voice a little choked. “Not just…bloody swelling or soft tissue or anything. I’m pretty sure there’s bone in there.” She prodded a little harder at one point, near the top end of a shoulder blade, where the distension was worst. “And there’s something at the top here, on both sides. Something sort of…a little pointy, poking at your skin.” She paused. “On the left, actually, there’s two little pointy spots.”

He shuddered, half with horror and half with pain. “What is it?” He asked at last, desperate, even though he knew she hadn’t any more idea than he did.

“…I don’t know.” She confessed, quiet, and drew her fingers away. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

He’d known that would be the answer. But it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

—

She located the nearby river, and brought him to its edge to make him drink. Then, carefully, she slathered cool-wet river silt against the hot agony of his back. It helped, a little, but not enough.

It was at least warm enough in the Xadian borderlands that it wasn’t too cold to go shirtless for such a long time, but when he’d tried to put a shirt back on, the pressure against the growing things under his skin was too much to bear. And they were growing. Rayla said she could practically see it, hour to hour, stretching his skin out until red-raw lines were drawn upwards to the peaks of the swelling. It felt like his skin was tearing every time he so much as moved a muscle, and she admitted that she wouldn’t be surprised if it really did start tearing soon.

Callum had thought, after that spell earlier, that the horror of his back was related in some way to the Sky Magic. It made him dread the way that the energy built up in his blood, the way his lungs started feeling too-full again, too full to breathe. He lingered on the edge of the suffocation, gasping frantically again, until Rayla clutched at his hand and said “Just cast another spell, Callum. It helped last time.”

“Last time,” He huffed, light-headed and fearful, “it made my back worse. Don’t want-“ He paused to gasp in six more frantic breaths. “Don’t want to get worse again.”

She shifted, uncertainly. “It…might not be because of that.” She said, though she didn’t sound especially convinced by even her own words. “It could be something else.”

He snorted amidst the feeling of his lungs straining, straining almost as much as the distended skin of his back. Tearing and stretching and- “Like what?”

“…Dark magic?” She suggested, though only half-heartedly. “That’s actually unnatural.”

“I think I’d have-“ He gulped air. “I’d have noticed if – Lord Viren – or Claudia – turned into – hunchbacks, Rayla.“

She watched him gasp, increasingly anxious, and finally snapped “Callum, you can’t breathe. Even if it does make your back worse – you have to cast something!”

He didn’t answer, and remained steadfast in his avoidance for about another minute of gasping for breath around straining lungs before he got light-headed and faint enough to agree with her. Torn two-ways by fear, he raised a finger and drew aspiro. He barely had enough breath to whisper it, but it was enough. The terrible over-pressure of breath and magic gusted out of him, potentiated into the purpose of the spell, rushing through his body and – and out three channels. One, his mouth, breathing the spell, and the other two-

The pain leapt and tore and burned.

Something gave way.

He wasn’t aware of much more than screaming, the seconds after he cast the spell, but when he regained some measure of awareness….the pressure of the magic was quiescent again, and…the pressure in his back had lessened, just a little, too. There was something warm dripping down his spine.

“…Okay, you’re right, it’s definitely the Sky magic doing it.” Rayla said, voice tight, and he realised that she’d been squeezing one of his hands the whole time.

“…My back,” he started, a little numbly, and tried to use his other hand to reach behind, to feel… “I’m – am I bleeding?”

She hesitated, nodded, and then dropped his hand to go have a better look. “The poking-bits have…” She swallowed, looking a little green, and turned aside for a few seconds to suppress a gag. “Well, they’ve gone through your skin, now. They’re…pointy. Whatever’s under your skin is bigger, too.”

He closed his eyes, and drew his fingers away from his back bloodied at the tips. “…right.”

Rayla had to take several more deep calming breaths before she could investigate further. “At least we’re next to a river.” She said, determinedly, and ushered him to the water again. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

True to her words, she cleaned the blood from his back, of which there was quite a lot, draining from the blood-swollen tissues around the distension. With some of the pressure relieved, it…actually hurt a fair bit less, but it was still awful. And then, with the bleeding stopping, and his back clean, Rayla made her assessment of what had poked through his skin.

“There’s four. I think?” She said, poking at each of them in turn. “Small. Black and sharp. They look like claws.” She hesitated, and poked at the swelling behind the claw-things. “I think they’re on…I don’t know, fingers? Two on each side. And something underneath.” She frowned, and prodded something a little more purposefully. He felt something under his skin move aside from the pressure, and he shuddered. “…Definitely something underneath these.” She concluded.

He was silent for a while, processing that. “So, what.” He said, finally. “Am I growing a couple of weird clawed extra arms, or something?”

“Arms,” She muttered, almost scornful, and leaned away to shuffle around to his side again. “Honestly, Callum, if it wasn’t for the claws – and for them being all the way up on your shoulders-“ She stopped.

He eyed her, curiosity piqued, despite the ongoing pain. “What?”

Rayla frowned. “Sky elves.” She said, without preamble. “Skywing elves. Some of them have wings, you know.”

He stilled, and it felt like his heart stilled too.

“…But they have their wings lower down – sort of mid-back, underneath their shoulders and arms. And they don’t have claws on them.” She exhaled. “And they’re born with them, anyway, so – it’s not like-“ She waved her hands towards his back, very expressively.

Callum stared at her, his gut uncertain whether it was twisting or fluttering. “…I wasn’t born with an arcanum.” He reminded her. “But I got one anyway.”

She sighed, looking as uncertain as he’d ever seen her. “I get your point.” She said. “And I suppose it would make more sense for you to be growing wings because of Sky magic than – than some weird clawed arms. But it’s – it’s not normal, Callum. I don’t know what’s happening to you.” She sounded almost hopeless, at that. Afraid.

Unthinkingly, he clutched at her hand again. Squeezed it to reassure her, for once. “…well, whatever it is, we’ll probably find out soon.” He said, uncertain how he quite felt about that. “It’s been, what, half a day since I got my arcanum? It’s going fast.”

She glanced at him, side-long. “Magic speeds it up.” She noted, and he went still again at the implication.

“…You want to make it go even faster?” He said, aghast.

She shrugged. “Not want, but…it’s probably an option.” Her eyes slid over his shoulders again. “Where those claws came through…it’s healing quickly. Magic-fast, even. If you keep waiting until you need to cast a spell again…you’ll probably just keep tearing your back open.”

He shifted uncertainly. “I don’t know, Rayla. Maybe it’d be faster to just…cast a load of spells and get it over with – whatever it is, but…” He shuddered, at the mere thought of it. How much would it hurt, to have his skin roil and tear and peel away as the things on his back grew and grew and tore their way out of his skin all at once?

Rayla watched him, anxious but sympathetic, and squeezed his hand back. “…Let’s go to sleep, then.” She said, finally, glancing up at the growing gloom of the evening. “See how it looks in the morning.”

He exhaled, and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

—

He slept on his front, with his shirts and jacket draped over him like blankets. Zym curled up beside him, pressed to his side, and wormed his way underneath Callum’s arm until he deigned to hold it around the little dragonling. He wondered if Zym was missing Ez. He wondered what Ez would think of the somethings growing beneath his skin. He wondered a lot of things, thoughts whirling and spinning around themselves, until he finally managed to slip asleep.

It didn’t last. He might have expected pain to wake him, but instead, it was the magic. He woke breathless and gasping, some hours into the night, chest tight and lungs swollen as the magic built in him to the point of pain again. He stumbled upright, dislodging Zym and waking Rayla, who sat straight up and rubbed her eyes, blinking blearily at him.

“Callum?” She asked, groggily, eyes settling onto his shoulders. “Y’alright?”

“Breath,” he explained, his whole upper back straining as he moved, and he turned aside to draw the zig-zagging shape of fulminis.

Just as before, the aimless magic in his body shifted and awakened and moved. Unlike before, barely any of it left his fingers. The lightning-bolt that emerged was thin and sparking and did not travel very far at all, spilling only the barest smell of ozone into the air, and instead – instead, all of that electric energy surged into his back as though to a lightning-rod, and it writhed.

He cried out with pain, Zym squeaking in fright and Rayla shuffling over to grip his hand, and familiar hot-wet spilled down his back again. Something had torn, again, more than yesterday, much more-

Callum reached back, to feel, to find out what had come through – and nearly vomited at the feeling of finding something small and limp and blood-wet and firm hanging out of the skin there. It was warm. Warm like a limb. Warm like a living thing – but wet and tacky and too-soft, like the thin weeping skin under a blister. On the end of the horrible hanging thing was something small and sharp. The claw.

So…the ‘fingers’, that the claws were apparently on. One on that side, and….he checked…two had torn free on the right hand side. The second on the left was still under his skin. And…wait.

Was that a third? He checked the other side, found something much like it in the distended shape of his skin, and felt his breath stutter with horror.

“That’s horrible.” Rayla told him, looking pale and a little green, as his fingers trailed blood over his upper back. There was so much pain now that it felt almost like he’d passed through it, to some numb other-side where nothing felt right and his thoughts were strange and scrambled.

“Mmhm.” He agreed, a little vacantly, moving one of the clawed-things between his fingers. It felt like a finger, slim and bony, even if the skin was all wrong and it was covered in blood and had torn its way out of his flesh-

“We need to clean you up again.” Rayla said, decisively, and moved to herd him over to the water again. He could hardly see anything around them, given the time of night, but the moon was past half-full and cast just about enough light to see by.

“…Wait.” He said, after a moment, and her fingers stilled on his arm. He breathed, not-quite-awake and not-quite-coherent, uncertain if he just hadn’t woken up properly, or if the pain had just…disconnected him from a proper feeling of consciousness. “You were right. I should just…get this over with. It’s not going to stop. So…I should just…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

Cautiously, she took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Are you sure?”

“No.” he admitted. “But I don’t want to keep waking up and – having to cast a spell and tear myself open again. Once these….whatever, once they’re out, it should be better. Right?”

“…Well, in theory, you won’t have anything trying to break out of your skin anymore.” She said, dubious, and a little wary. “So, I guess?”

He sighed. “This is going to suck.”

“It’ll also be pretty bloody, I think.” She nodded, looking as though she were trying not to think about it too hard. “So let’s get you to the water for this anyway.”

Once they were there, and Rayla had washed some of the blood off to see the new developments with his back, she reported on the state of things and confirmed his uneasy sense-impression of what he’d felt through his skin.

“It’s grown in the night.” She said, of the distension as a whole. “One of the clawed…fingers…is still under your skin. And…” She shivered, close enough to his side that it made the fabric of her sleeve brush against his shoulder. “And, I think there’s…three. Fingers, I mean, on each one. The third ones are still…inside your back.” Her eyes squeezed briefly shut, as if to forcefully expel the image from her mind as well as her eyes.

“…Thought I felt something like that.” He said, quiet and pale, mind too numb with shock and pain to offer much more than delirious dread. He had felt something that felt disturbingly like another digit, underneath the right-hand two that had torn out.

Rayla looked side-long at him, hesitating. “…Honestly, Callum? It might hurt less if – if we cut it, instead of letting your skin rip open.” Zym, who seemed to understand them quite well, quailed at the words, crooning and shrinking back.

He blinked, startled, not having thought of that. “With one of your swords, you mean?” He asked, and reached to the side to pat Zym on the head. After a second, he drew the little dragon into his lap. He wasn’t a human kid, maybe, but this was still kind of more gore than he was comfortable with Zym seeing. If he was in his lap…he at least wouldn’t see it.

At his words, though she seemed distinctly sickened at the notion, Rayla nodded.

It was probably a bad sign that he found the idea a relief. The clean cut of a blade seemed so much more merciful than skin strained to tearing. “Good idea.” He said, and wondered at how swiftly his life had gone weird, to make such a thing a sensible and merciful option.

Still, she hesitated, hand on the hilt of one of the weapons hung at the small of her back. “…Now?” She asked, unhappily. “Or when you cast the spell?”

He considered it. “….during the spell.” He decided, reluctantly. “That way we can get it all done at once.” Nausea rose in his throat, and he carefully swallowed it away.

Rayla shuddered. “…Alright.” She said, visibly steeling herself, and he heard the shnk of her blade assembling as she moved behind him. A couple of weeks ago, he’d have done nearly anything to keep her blades away from him, and now he was inviting them. The world was mad. “Go ahead.” She said, and lowered the tip of the blade against his skin, cold and sharp, just below the protruding left digit. He braced himself, and raised a hand.

Fulminis was somewhat easier to deal with, since he didn’t need to do any gusty exhaling for it, so he drew its rune crackling in the air. This time, when he spoke it, there was no well of expanding magic pooling and stretching him out from within – instead, it coursed in from the Sky, that inner-spark of the arcanum opening and welcoming it in. A little of it went to its proper place, coursing along his arm, but only a thin crackle and a few sparks emerged. The rest…

It surged to his back, and at once, the flesh beneath his skin swelled and grew and roiled, pressing and stretching and expanding into a searing, tearing pain. And then-

The sword was sharp. Incredibly so. There was barely any resistance at all as it parted his skin and the thin layers of flesh below it – it was so sharp and clean a cut that for a second, it almost didn’t hurt. He gritted his teeth and hissed and gasped, but even then – even then, there was such a relief to it. He could feel the horrible straining pressure easing even as the magic of the spell coursed in and in and in, even as the somethings under his skin grew, and grew, and finally-

Where Rayla had made the cut on the left, something spilled loose. Something heavy and fleshy and soft, limp and bloody, dropped out of the open wound and thumped wetly against his back. He heard Rayla gag, and felt nausea surge in his own throat at the mere feeling of it, but – she stayed her course, and moved her blade over to the right to repeat the cut.

The energy of the spell ebbed, even as the cut widened and the incredible relief repeated for the other thing, the wet meaty limb spilling down along his back in a trail of blood and gore. He clenched his fingers in Zym’s mane, stomach roiling. Voice hoarse, he asked “Is it all out?”

She gagged again, but answered anyway. “Think so.” She said, shakily, and moved to the side to wash her hands and blade in the water. “Feel for yourself.”

He wasn’t really sure he wanted to. Even the sensation of the things, wet and warm down his back, was viscerally disgusting, and his throat already felt fluttery with nausea. Still, though, he couldn’t quite restrain the morbid curiosity, and moved one hand from Zym’s back to feel around at his own.

His hand landed on something warm and wet and sticky. The skin was…thin, too thin, like something malformed and underdeveloped, and it was growing out of his body but he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel his touch on it, it might as well have been – have been something else, something not-him, something alien, something parasitic, growing out of him-

He lurched forward and vomited, managing to avoid Zym entirely. The dragonling scurried out of his lap in a hurry, yipping with alarm, and stared at the puddle of sick with wide-eyed consternation. Then he looked over Callum’s shoulder, and shrank back.

“It wasn’t much nicer to watch it, believe me.” Rayla told him, dryly, as she came over to gently bring him over by the water, steering him with careful fingers at his arms. “Come on. Let’s clean you up. Wash your mouth out.”

He was entirely too shaken to make any sort of comeback, and just nodded, leaning forwards to slip his hands into the water and wash the blood off and then cup some water from further up-river to his mouth. He washed out and spat it to the side, even as Rayla gently set to work cleaning the blood off his back and the things with water and a few wet river-leaves. He still had open wounds, of course, and she muttered a little worriedly about getting river-water in them, but…in the end, it wasn’t as though they had anything to boil water in.

Finally, his back was apparently clean enough, and she patted him on his clammy-wet shoulder. “That’ll do it for tonight.” She said, tiredly. “Wish I could bandage you, but…”

“No bandages?” He guessed, and she nodded.

“No bandages.” She agreed. “You are healing already, though. It’s already scabbing around the…” Her voice went odd. “…limbs.” She decided, eventually.

“…So that’s definitely what they are?” He ventured, brow furrowed. He reached over his shoulder and found, indeed, that the cuts she’d made and the tears around the protrusion of the things were already near-firm with hard coagulation, even though she’d just been at him with water. It was astonishingly painless, compared to how it had been not fifteen minutes ago.

“Can’t you feel them?” She asked, after a moment. Tentatively, she reached out, and he could guess that she picked up one of the limbs by the lessening of the sensation of weight, pulling at his shoulders.

He shook his head, unsettled. “I can’t feel them at all.”

Rayla grimaced, and then, not looking terribly pleased about it, gently manoeuvred the thing down and around to his side, so that he could actually see it. He twisted to stare at it, morbidly fascinated, the nausea lessened now that he’d already vomited.

“That’s gross,” he noted, almost fascinated now, and made a face as he reached out to touch it. It was warm, and that was even more disgusting, somehow.

She let it fall into his hand, and he inspected it. There was a joint at the end, like a wrist joint, with something that wasn’t really a hand hanging there limply. There were, at any rate, three digits, all of which clawed. The first digit was half the length of the second, which itself was half the length of the third. All of them had as many joints as a normal finger would, but the proportions were all wrong – stretched-out and heinously alien, not even close to human. With a raw, shocked sort of apathy, he took the shortest in his fingers and bent it, pressing the sharp point of the claw against his thumb.

“…Is there an elbow joint?” He asked, though he was already checking. In short order he felt along the limb and found it, and hummed pensively at the discovery. Oddly, the discovery of the joints made him feel a little better about it. The limbs were disgusting, and he couldn’t feel them, and he hadn’t asked for them, and it wasn’t even slightly normal to grow two extra limbs on his back – but, at the very least, they had an almost soothing structural similarity to his arms. An elbow and a wrist and a hand each. It was a paltry thing to be comforted by, but it was something.

“You really can’t feel them?” Rayla checked, again, fingers reaching tentatively out to poke at the limb in his hand. He could guess what she felt, when she touched it, by how it felt on his own hands: warm and somehow tacky, even with all the blood washed away. The skin didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like normal skin – it was….thin. Delicate, in an alarming way that made him feel he could rip it with the slightest pressure. Like he would rip it, if he weren’t very very careful. “They look…sore.”

“It’s just my back that hurts, around them.” Callum said, making a face at the two alien fingers on one of his new limbs. His new, limp, utterly insensate limbs. “I can’t feel any of this. It’s like-“ he swallowed against the taste of acid, against the shape of the thoughts that had horrified him earlier. “It’s like it’s – not even me. Just…something growing out of me.”

Rayla shuddered at that too – and for a long moment, he was suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful that she was here with him. Here to help him, here to empathise with the visceral horror of what was happening to him, just…here.

“Maybe that’ll change.” She said, softly, and he wasn’t actually sure whether he agreed or not.

If he never felt anything from them – if they stayed these disgusting, insensate things hanging from his body…that would almost be easier to deal with. At least then he could…look into getting them cut off, or something. But if he could feel them – if they really did become a part of him, these things that were on his back but shouldn’t be – that was somehow a whole lot scarier. What would that even mean? “…I don’t even know what they are.” He said, a little plaintively. “I don’t even know why they’re growing. No one else grows weird gross extra limbs from their backs like this.”

“No one else gets a sparkly new arcanum years and years after they’re born, either.” She pointed out, and he huffed, reminded of what she’d said before.

“So, what? Are they arms? Useless featherless wings? Something else?” He questioned, looking down at the disturbing tiny hand-joint thing she was still gingerly holding. Three-fingered, it looked nothing like a proper human hand – not even an elf hand – and the proportions were all wrong.

“If it’s an arm, it’s not like any I’ve ever seen.” She answered, after a moment, peering along the wrinkly too-thin skin, as if she were looking for something. “As for wings…I don’t know. I’ve never seen a Skywing without feathers, but…I’ve never seen the wings of a baby, either. Pretty sure they’re not born with feathers, so…”

“Too early to tell?” he suggested, and she shrugged helplessly at him. He sighed, and inspected the limb as best he could by moonlight. “Well, I guess it does look kind of…baby-skin-ish.” He concluded. “Like newborn baby-skin, I mean – all red-looking and wrinkly and gross.”

“…Well, they’re developing fast.” She said, dubious, and withdrew her fingers from the senseless skin. “Maybe they’ll look less gross and sore-looking and wrinkly by morning.”

Callum wondered, for a brief and distant moment, as if he should maybe be a little bit put-off by her using those descriptors, even though she was mostly just quoting him. After all, these new…things…were ostensibly part of his body, so shouldn’t he feel defensive about their appearance?

But he didn’t. All he felt was a sincere echo of her own sentiments and her own disgust as he looked at the limp thing in his hand. It didn’t feel like a part of him. It didn’t feel like a part of him at all.

His gut twisted, and he shivered. “Maybe.” He said, a little tightly, and dropped the limb. It dropped back down, sagging against his back with the other one. A small, insistent part of him was screaming to get them off, in an instinctive revulsion he couldn’t quite manage to displace. He swallowed against the nausea again, and tried to put the thoughts aside.

Rayla looked at him, for a long moment that he spent mostly trying to wrestle his gut into some semblance of good behaviour. He’d really like it if his stomach would stop roiling at every reminder of the things that had burst out of his upper back. “…If you think you can, it’d be a good idea to try to get to sleep.” She offered, eventually. “It’s still the middle of the night – and we have a long way to go.”

He frowned….but nodded, reluctantly. “I don’t know if I can.” He admitted, and thought the reasoning needed little explanation. “But I’ll try, I guess.”

As if encouraged by the words, Zym took that opportunity to butt his head under Callum’s hand, crooning a little when the motion automatically earned him some scritches around the horns. The little dragonling looked up at him in a way that suggested he was entirely ready for some nap-time, preferably with a large warm cuddle-buddy.

Zym hadn’t been this touch-hungry before, he didn’t think. Not when Ezran was here. Still…

Callum smiled, gentle affection replacing the churning in his gut, and reached out to hoist Zym into his arms as he stood. The new limbs swayed and slapped a little against his back as he moved, but he tried not to think about that.

“If nothing else, Zym definitely needs sleep.” He said, and tucked the dark blue dragon-wings neatly under his arms. Zym craned his neck backwards, trying to look at him, and then broke into a sharp-toothed yawn. In the contagious way of yawns, he was returning it a second later, abruptly more tired by all the pain and stress than he’d realised.

“Looks like Zym isn’t the only one.” Rayla observed, lips twitching, and then ushered him gently over to where they’d been sleeping.

Laying down took some arrangement, this time. He had to avoid laying on the new limbs, and somehow manoeuvre them into a comfortable position despite not being able to feel or move them. They were a strange, warm, foreign weight against his back. Eventually, Rayla took pity on him and tucked them inwards on his back, draping his jacket over him.

As a finishing touch, she picked up Zym, picked up his arm, and then planted the dragonling beneath it. Said dragonling chirped happily, and shoved his snout into Callum’s armpit. “Sleep.” She ordered him, or perhaps ordered them both, and slipped with a smile on her lips to lay just a little way beside him.

As unsettling as everything had been…it had been exhausting, too. He’d thought he’d stay up a long time, thinking about it all, but instead…

Instead, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep almost instantly.

—

End chapter.

Notes: This chapter is the bloodiest by far. There might be small bloody moments in the future, but from now on it’s just steadily decreasing amounts of body horror and drastically increasing amounts of inconvenience, indignity, and fluff. There’s also potential for a more complex magically-rooted plotline eventually, but it depends on what I plot out. Could just end up being a relatively straight s3 fic with wing-related divergence points, could be very very different. We’ll see.

I really do mean it when I say I’m going to go very in-depth with the wing biology stuff. This will, in places, be slightly gross. Callum may be done with most of his pain but I have so many other ways to make him suffer.

World notes: Magic works a bit differently in this AU, which is why Callum is growing wings. Callum’s wings are also very different to an elf’s, and to the mage-wings as seen in canon. Still, there will be a whole lot of wingfic stuff and wing-fluff, which I imagine many of us are very hungry for after s3.

Hope everyone enjoyed s3 as much as I did!

Feedback and kudos etc very much appreciated. Chapter 2 is mostly done, just need to adjust it for s3.

#the dragon prince s3 #tdp callum #tdp rayla #rayllum #wingfic #tdp fic #boundless

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