do u think they ever explored each others bodies

The angst idea?

:)

You know the one

:)

Stone

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Friendly Giant AU

CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, extremely brief mentions of blood/violence, mentions of depression(Also this can be treated as canon or not, if you want to believe a different ending that’s okay! )

Notes: sorry :) Also please read the whole content warning before going on, I hope you like it!

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Dead grass crumbled under Ranboo’s feet as he walked through the forest. The leaves from the tall pines around him shuddered and whistled under the frigid wind, but his thick fur kept him warm.

He’d go into hibernation soon, most likely in a few days, so he knew he had to make the trip then. He’d been avoiding it at all costs, but he needed to see it. At least before he went to sleep.

His breath clouded up in front of his eyes as his feet led him on the small dirt path to the graveyard. He’d been to the destination many times before…As his friends, his family, passed away they held the burials in the same place. It was a beautiful clearing he had to admit. But every time he went he could feel the dread building up in his stomach. The clearing took too much from him already, and it hurt to see the graves.

Only a few minutes into his trek, small blue and purple flowers started to pop up across the dirt. He recalled that Michael had planted the blue ones a few years after Wilbur had passed.

And the purple ones…they were added after Tubbo…

“They attract pillbees,” Michael had told him, when the pain was still fresh and his tears wouldn’t stop flowing, “He loved those.”

Ranboo felt a fresh wave of guilt crash into his heart as he realized he’d have to step through the flowers. The wild buds had completely covered the area, and while it was beautiful, to get to the the graves he would have to walk over them.

He hoped Michael wouldn’t mind too much if some of the flowers were flattened.

He winced as he felt more of the soft petals crunch under his feet, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a pair of pillbees fly past him.

“Sorry,” he whispered as the bees buzzed around his face, “I’ll be gone soon.”

He watched with amusement as one of the bugs curled up and plummeted through the air before catching itself and soaring upwards again. It’s small translucent wings glittered under the light like a tiny ball of fire.

Tubbo always loved watching them fly around.

Even near the end, when he could barely walk on his own he’d ask to see the pillbees, and Ranboo would bring him out without hesitation. Tubbo hated how helpless he felt, but Ranboo would do anything to help him.

Even as his vision failed and his memory started to falter, it always made him happy to feel their tiny bodies crawl over his hands. And he’d always smile so brightly when they fluttered around Ranboo’s face.

Ranboo wished he could see him smile like that again. Just once more, but there was nothing he could do. The closest he had to Tubbo’s face were the old chalk drawings Michael had made in the den.

And even they were starting to fade away from old age.

“Come on,” he whispered under his breath, he couldn’t put this off any more.

It wasn’t long before the graves came into view, and immediately he felt his whole body tense up. Memories of funerals and burials weighed down his heart.

The stones were all lined up in a perfect row. The farthest one on the left was already crumbling at the top, a sign of how long it had been there, while the newest one on the right sat pristine and fresh. There was still a bundle of flowers neatly tied up on top of it.

‘Probably from Michael’, his brain input.

As carefully as he could he knelt down in front of the stones and tried to keep his breathing steady. Every inhale felt like liquid fire running down his throat. And the sight of the newest grave made him feel nauseous.

He could do this. He had to.

“Hey,” he exhaled finally, “It’s been a while…”

The wind howled around his ears making them prick back from the icy cold. Tubbo always thought it was funny how his ears twitched, his mind reminded him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. And that I missed the uh…that I missed the burial,” he choked after a few moments, “I’m so sorry Tubbo.”

Slowly, he wrapped his tail around the base of the stone- it was so so small. Even near the end Tubbo had never felt that small. He was so magnetic and larger than life, it hurt knowing he was deep under the dirt.

If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine it was still Tubbo, his husband and his best friend instead of a cold lifeless stone.

“You know Michael joined the guard,” he hummed, keeping his eyes trained down at the grave, “Sam convinced him to after you passed… He’s doing great; you’d be proud of him. But you probably already know that huh? He visits more than I do.”

Ranboo willed away the tears threatening to spill as his fingers found the human-sized ring in his pocket. It perfectly matched the ring still snug around his horn, even with it being worn down from how often Ranboo rubbed it between his fingers.

“Oh and they finally found it you know…Tommy’s badge. I know you spent a long time trying to find it,” he swallowed, “Some hunters found it in a cave. Whatever killed him must have spat it back up, and Michael has it now…It’s pretty beat up but he refuses to wear any other badge.”

The mention of Tommy’s death was like a stab to his heart. He couldn’t help it as tears slid down his face and wet the ground underneath him.

Tommy’s death was brutal…and the first time he’d felt loss. But it was also the first time he’d really seen Tubbo break.

It was a few years after Phil had already retired from the guard. It was supposed to be a normal roundtrip, the ones the guard did every night, but Tommy never came back.

Later that night Techno showed up at the walls alone and covered in blood. The entire town had watched as he fell into his father’s arms, not wanting to think about what it meant. Tubbo and Wilbur didn’t find out until later, when they got back from his den the next morning.

And Ranboo didn’t know until hours after.

That night the town held a funeral, but there was no body to bury. They’d set up his stone right next to his mother’s under the tree Phil had planted years before.

The tree Ranboo now sat in front of where one by one each of the humans he loved had been buried.

“Sam said I probably have ten more years yaknow,” Ranboo stuttered out as he grazed his claw against Tubbo’s gravestone, “I feel bad for leaving Michael but…I’m happy- I’ll get to see you all again. I miss you so much.”

“Michael isn’t in the den much anymore, and it feels so empty now that you’re not there Tubbo,” he broke, “I miss you so much. I don’t know what do with myself anymore.”

He was bordering on dangerous territory as his mind sped up. He knew he needed help, and that the way he coped wasn’t healthy but he missed Tubbo so much. Sam checked on him every few days, but often he just stared at the chalk drawings of his husband and cried until he fell back asleep.

“Most of the time I can’t even get up,” he admitted sadly, “I don’t want to move because it means you won’t be there. And I know you didn’t feel good near the end but…but I want you back so badly Tubs.”

He paused to wipe away a tear that dripped down onto Tubbo’s stone, “I know it’s selfish but I want you back so badly. I love you…You meant the world to me Tubbo. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Ranboo let his head fall forward as tears streamed down his cheeks. It was unfair. He didn’t know why everyone got to pass on except for him. He wanted them back so badly.

He missed guard practices with Phil and Techno and sitting and watching Wilbur strum on his guitar. He missed Tommy running around with Michael and joking with him as he worked.

And he missed Tubbo most of all. He missed laying down with his best friend and sleeping curled up with him at night. He missed fishing while Tubbo sat on his head and told him stories. He missed Tubbo teaching Michael how to speak and draw until Michael was taller than Tubbo himself. And he missed the soft touches he received from the boy.

He missed everything about the only human who’d ever given him a chance.

With quivering lips he bent down and pressed a kiss to the cold stone. For a moment he swore it felt warm under his touch, and he could almost convince himself Tubbo was there with him.

“I love you Tubbo,” he whispered, “I’ll be back again.”

But only the wind whispered back.

The next day Ranboo went into hibernation for the first time without Tubbo, and when Michael arrived to check on him he found his father curled up around a pair of rings and a small clump of purple flowers.

Wildland

Kilts’N’Romance one-shot: NSFW, stealing, chasing, reference to abuse and a smidge of smut

Wordcount: 1.879 (7 minutes reading) 

I should have never gone,  to where the wild ones live. 

Darkness was falling and the damp had started to crawl back up from the cool tall grass. It was cold, and yet I felt hot. Cheeks flushed with exertion and anticipation. My heart was racing now I knew that the beast was chasing me. Searching me. The only between us, being a man high boulder that was cold and mossy beneath my fingertips.  

I could hear his ragged breath and annoyed curses. I could hear his heavy feet mulling through the tall wet grass blades. And I could just about smell him. This strange beast. Wild one. His nose now probably up in the air, sniffing me back. Would he find me? The thought made my heart gallop even faster. 

‘Oh wee one..’ He breathed. 

I bolted. 

There was a curse in my heart and on his lips as I abandoned my refuge. And all I could do was run. Run as fast as the soaked skirts around my legs would carry me. I had always hated these skirts, and yet it seemed there was a chance that I would, I could, maybe… 

‘STOP!’ He called, feet thundering in pursuit. ‘Oi! STOP!’ 

I ran and ran as I heard his booming voice behind me. The sound covering all the way to the trees that wrapped around this grassy meadow. They would be my chance of escaping, dusk covering me if only I could be fast enough. Agile enough. Swift as a deer in flight. 

A large object crashed into my back and there I was. Smashed into the grass that now suffocated me, green blades cold, wet and sharp against my clammy skin.  

‘Ah…’ He breathed out of breath. ‘You..Naughty lass..’ 

I wiggled and fought but there was no way to move this lug of a man. One large leg was all it required to keep me pinned down and helpless in the sharp grass. 

‘Think you can steal from a man?’ His voice came closer and I found his face now inches from mine. ‘From me?’

There was a tinge of blue in the eyes that hid behind his dark mane and scruffy chin. And lest my eyes not betray me, he was not quite as angry as he had appeared moments earlier. His sharp jaw clenched as our eyes met and a quiet moment passed.

‘I’m sorry.’ I finally managed, heart racing for a confusing mix of things. I forgot for a moment how wet and cold and uncomfortable I was in this darkening meadow. I forgot how severe this situation probably truly was. I had been caught stealing some of his provisions. This wild one. And it took no fool to realize that there was no escape. 

His blue eyes darkened. 

‘Sorry won’t do.’ 

Our eyes met again, though this time his eyes trailed down the rest of my face unapologetically. All the way to the caress of my breasts against my corset. He looked back up. 

‘I was just hungry.’ I tried to wiggle from under his leg, but it didn’t work. He only pinned me down harder, his other leg now swinging around until he sat atop my hip, hands working up the curve of my clothed spine. Even there the dampness had come, bringing with it a cold, cold shiver. 

‘Could have asked.’ His hand found the back of my neck and I let out a soft gasp. His hands were delightfully warm and gentle as they trailed up through my hair. 

‘Please.’ I begged. 

‘Please what me lass?’ 

‘I’ll do anything.’ 

That made him chuckle, his hand leaving a quickly cooling spot on my neck. ‘Whatsa wee one even doing in these lands? Can’t really go ‘round stealing and begging, no?’ He swung his legs back over and before I knew it his departing bodyweight left me cold and stunned. Did he just let me go? With confusion in my eyes I looked up, hands pressing up to get out of the grass. 

He was walking back to his camp. 

‘Hey..!’ I stood up and watched his broad back silhouetted by the campfire that was burning a little distance away. He didn’t look back. 

‘Hey! You can’t just..’ I felt a shiver run up my spine as I realised what a predicament I was in. Beneath the soaked layers of my skirts, the stolen piece of bread had gone fully soaked. It was hardly a meal at all. And as I felt the bread disintegrate beneath my fingertips, I watched as the man casually sauntered back to his fire. His warmth. His food. His everything-I-had-left-behind as I had run from my husband. 

He could have harmed me. Beaten me. Raped me. But despite all the right reasons to do so, he was nothing like the man I had left behind this morning. He just walked. He. Just. Left. 

Without thinking I found my feet moving. Not away as I probably should have. As I probably should have never come to these barren lands. No, I continued deeper onto the path of trouble. I followed the trails to where the wild ones live. For somehow this seemed more welcoming than returning would. 

He finally turned around, his face now hidden in the darkness. The orange flames behind him cast his silhouette in a warm glow. 

‘Coming to steal again?’ 

My breath choked and I quickly shook my head, tongue flicking nervously over my lips. Was he angry with me? I wasn’t sure. He turned back around and finally settled by the fire. 

I followed. 

‘Wait.’ He said before I sat down by the fire as well. I halted and felt the nerves crawl back up my spine again. Any moment could be my last, lest I not play my cards carefully. I looked at his feet in obedience and waited. 

He sighed. ‘Gods be the devil, what is it with ye lass? You’ll sit in the smoke.’ He gestured to where I had thought to settle down and finally I dared to look up. If there was any devil in this man, it was the kindest devil yet. I sighed in quiet relief and smiled a little. 

‘Sorry.’ 

‘And you stop that too.’ He patted a spot right between the outstretched legs that appeared from beneath his kilt. I sat down there, eyes still hesitating to look him straight in the eye. Was this a smart thing to do? Probably not. Did I want to? I probably did. My heart started racing again as I felt the heat that came radiating off him and the fire before me. 

‘What if I don’t want to?’ I whispered. 

He laughed. ‘What a way, what a way. One moment a spirit steals my old bread, next I have a lass in ‘tween me legs.’ 

I finally dared to turn and look him straight in the eye. He was grinning cockily and I felt my tongue go sharp. ‘Well you better enjoy it!’ 

‘I am..’ His grin smouldered down to a charming smirk. 

‘You are?’ I teased, feeling emboldened as I turned a little way more to get a better look at him. Behind all the grime and disheveled hair set a good looking man with a dimpled chin and sparkling eyes. 

He shrugged. 

‘So you gonn’ be a-staying then little spirit?’ 

‘Maybe.’ 

He raised a challenging eyebrow.  

‘What?’ I asked. 

He laughed and shook his head. ‘You must know that the fire don’t kindle itself.’ 

And as he said so something moved beneath the layered pleats of his kilt. A dragging little thing that moved between his legs. I breathed in cautiously and looked back up, his eyes now a good shade darker. 

‘So I can..’ I brushed a hand up and beneath his kilt. His muscular thigh clenched beneath my cold fingers. ‘..stay?’ 

He licked his lips and it was clear it took great effort to calm himself. With a breathy laugh he looked up at the sky as my hand travelled further up his leg. 

‘Oh lass… monsters live ‘ere.’ His words cut short as my other hand copied the snaking caress on his other thigh. 

‘Mm?’ 

He licked his lips again and kept his eyes up at the sky. ‘Big ones.’ 

‘Dangerous ones?’ 

He looked down and back at me. The light of the flames danced over his features, setting him in a beautiful orange golden light. 

‘Only when they need be.’ 

Both my hands were now at the tops of his thighs, hiking up his kilt until there was little modesty left. 

‘Ah fek it.’ He growled and in a lunging assault I was smacked into the ground again. This time no cold hard grass, but a warm bit of sandy earth. Along with the assault came lips. Perfectly supple and wet against my neck and chin. And then there were hands that wandered, mimicking the way my hands had travelled up his legs. 

I gasped and moaned as there was suddenly warmth everywhere. The sensation of my cold and soaked clothes was swiftly forgotten, making place for a heavy musky scent that infiltrated my nostrils. This man smelled of the earth, sweat, rain. Not of alcohol and abuse. There was no pain in the way he touched me. Even if bounded on something animalistic as he growled into the softness of my skin. 

‘Better warm up this cold lass.’ He mumbled in between open mouthed kisses, his lips now finally moving up to my face. First to my ear, then my cheek, all the way up to my nose, where he rested his forehead for a little while, breathing in raggedly as one of his hands cupped around my face. 

‘You want this then?’ His voice had become hoarse. 

I gasped as I felt his legs shift between mine, realising now how he had settled himself down for more. 

‘Tell me no.’ He said out of breath. 

‘Yes. Yes please.’ I gasped.

He pushed himself back a little so he could look me in the eye. The flames danced ever more wildly over his face from this angle. Smouldering fire burned in the darkness of his once blue eyes and I did what good women shouldn’t. 

I kissed the wild one. 

What followed was warm lips and bumping noses and awkward hands that fumbled with damp wool skirts. What followed also, was his toothy smile as he looked down upon me, admiring me in a way men didn’t do often. 

‘Yes?’ He asked. 

I nodded and breathed out, laughing softly. ‘Ye--’ 

Something prodded itself against my apex. ‘Ah!’ I gasped, but before I could scream at this intrusion, his lips moulded around mine. He took my breath in a most star strikingly slow pace. And as his kisses sweetened, his cock pierced. Deep and wide and stretching he slowly coaxed me to welcome him whole. To welcome the wilderness that coursed through his veins. That burned in his warm fingertips.

I realised then as I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. That there’s a reason why you should never go to where the wild ones live. A single star appeared from between the coal black clouds and I smiled. 

I should have never gone. For it makes a wild one of me too.

--

Author’s note: Henry in a kilt. Henry in a kilt. I repeat. Henry. In. A. Kilt. 

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is this all i have?

^ hey all, a little different fic I have for you today.

If you decide to read it, it’ll give you some insight into why I haven’t been posting a lot ... it says more than I probably would normally share about my struggles but @genshin-karebear encouraged me to be honest and, so, here I am. (thank you, friend)

Warnings -> negative self-talk, comfort, one curse word 

I sat at my desk, head in my hands and tears on the verge of spilling over the edges of my eyes. For days I’d been struggling, frantically, painfully trying to get back into the swing of things with nothing to show for it other than tear stained clothes and empty pieces of paper.

Where did it all go? Where was the spark that used to ignite in my heart when I sat down to write the words which once came so easy? Am I spent, have I used up all that skill in a matter of months … what’s wrong with me.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek as I stared at the massive nothingness that lay before me. The taunting paper which looked back at like a score card of failures after failures, as if to remind me that I will never be a person worthy of it’s time. I rubbed my eyes, pushing my glasses over my brow and feeling the hot liquid which rested in them, this would be the tenth time I’ve done this today.

“I’m just spent and I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore.” My lip quivered, my cheeks became wet, my eyes blurry. “I’m a failure.” I whispered to myself shaking my head and holding onto the last ounce of energy I could muster - it didn’t matter that the sun was warm and shined through my window, there was nothing strong enough to push through my veil of despair.

I looked out the window and saw the world move on around me; it never waits, while it pushes on I’m left behind. The trees continue to spread out their leaves in an attempt to soak up the necessary nutrients they need to survive, seeds float on the wind looking for a place to rest, bugs move from place to place at random, the cat lounges on the chair lost in its dreams as its fur is warmed by the sun I cannot seem to feel. I’m jealous of that cat.

I contemplate getting up and doing something different, but there is a voice inside of me that tells me to push through, to keep going and write something - put anything down on this piece of paper. Fuck you, paper … you are nothing to me and yet you have total control over my pen. I’m angry and frustrated at an inanimate object when I should really be mad at myself. It’s my fault I cannot get anything out --- I’m broken, that must be the only answer.

The tears have all fallen, water droplets speckle the parchment and my eyes look onward without any ounce of life left. I feel empty and hollow, I have no more energy for it all and so I lay down the pen, drop my head to the table and close my eyes.

I don’t know how long I sit like this, time has been moving so slowly for me as of late that this feels like nothing new. I don’t even hear the sound of the door opening, or footsteps headed my way. In fact, I barely register there is another presence in the room until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hazel?” I stir, but only enough to turn my head onto its side and glance at the person who called me by name, a name I didn’t feel I had the right to claim. I looked up and felt my stomach drop, of course it would be him … the one person who I continued to fail over and over again. “Are you okay?”

I bit the inside of my lip, desperate to keep my emotions in check. I hated looking weak, and complaining about my frustrations only made me feel worse. These worries and inadequacies are my own issues to deal with, there was no need to drag others down into my sorrow, so I changed the subject.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.” I leaned up from the desk and turned myself to face him. Instinctually, I placed my hand on the blank paper, an attempt to hide my shame.

“Yes, there wasn’t much for me to do, it seemed everyone had it under control and I didn’t see a need to stick around.” He placed a few items down on the table in the study. It was some of the only sounds which broke the monotony of my day. “… did I disturb your work?”

“No, I only just started.” I lied, grinning to add another layer to my coverup.

“Oh, normally you get started much earlier than this …” His observation was accurate, even if it stung a little. He was right after all, I’d been sitting at this desk since we parted ways earlier in the morning … I felt chained to it, obligated to do something worthwhile at this god forsaken wooden nightmare.

“Normally, yes. I just, uh, had some things to get done before this …”

“Well I’m sure you are eager to get started, I’ll leave you to it.” He looked down at me kindly, and I yearned to have more than just his words and kind eyes at the moment, but I knew it wouldn’t be possible to ask that of him.

“Sounds good, I’ve got a lot of ideas and think I can get some good stuff done today.” Another lie.

“I believe you will.” He looked at me and my brain screamed. It battled between the side of reaching for him and letting him go. As busy as he was, he didn’t need to be bothered by my struggles. So, in an effort to keep them under control I pushed my knuckles to the small space between my chin and lips, the nail of my index finger digging into the corner of my mouth for extra sensory support. I smiled weakly at him and watched as he made his way through the threshold, disappearing beyond my line of sight. When the door closed I stood from my chair and walked to the window, my hand extended to capture the rays of the sun which normally brought me comfort, but today only illuminated my skin.

The emotions bubbled up in my chest and, like a sad child who didn’t get what they wanted, I removed my glasses, dropped my head into my hand and cried. Soft, quiet sobs spilled from my mouth while my eyes remained shielded by the darkness of my hand. Something caught my attention and as soon as I allowed my vision to adjust to the source, dark cloth and a flash of red envelope me.

“What …?”

“I knew something wasn’t right.” His voice was so soothing, his arms tight around my body, his chest inviting and the way his hand spread across my back ... it all meshed perfectly together. “For days, you’ve been acting strange … I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“What .. what are you talking about ..?” my voice was strained, telling of my emotions, and still I tried to push through. “I’m fine, I-I just got something in my eye.”

“You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know …”

“So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“This isn’t something to worry you over.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulled back so he could look at me and I was glad my glasses were still off. I couldn’t bear to see him clearly right now. “Something is clearly weighing on you, how could I not offer my support?

“It’s stupid, and I just need to get over it.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then whatever problem you have isn’t stupid.” He pressed, and his words, combined with the closeness of him, was starting to break my resolve. I didn’t want to put anything else on his shoulders … I didn’t want to appear weak … I didn’t want to be a failure.

“I’m … struggling.” He didn’t let me go or say anything, which made me fill the silence with my own pitiful words. 

“I’ve been trying for days to get something, anything out and every time I do the words don’t flow like they did. I’m worried … did I write all that I’m ever going to write. What if I can’t do it anymore … what if this is all I have …” The tears began to slip down my cheeks, some found a home in the bend of my lips and filled my mouth with the taste of salt. I shook my head and bit my tongue, this is stupid, I’m acting like a child. I tried to push away from him but he only tightened his grip. “God, there are so many more important things to be upset about, and here I am whining about something so petty.”

“When was the last time you took a break? Perhaps, that may help?”

“I’ve done that … I’ve taken such a long break -- I-I don’t want to take a break anymore. Why is this so hard.” I felt the pressure of my brows as they moved closer to one another, the bending of my nose as I scrunch my face out of frustration. “I’m wasting time and people are waiting on me … how long can I ask them to wait … how long do I deserve their patience …”

“Has anyone pushed you to work faster than you can?”

I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my teeth, “No … but I can’t expect them to wait forever. There’s gotta be something wrong with me, right? That’s the only explanation I have at this point. I’m not good at it anymore … I’m worried and stressed and ... just ... so sad.”

His hands slipped around my arms, one resting against my shoulder and the other cupping my face. “I know this feels like an impassable obstacle, but you haven’t lost anything … you just need to give it time.”

“Haven’t I done that?”

“You told me you’ve been in here trying to force yourself everyday, have you really taken time to rest?” I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my eyes away from him.

“You don’t take breaks either …” I mumbled, my words were an effort to get even and show him how the suggestion was nothing but a silly statement that had no meaning.

“Maybe, I should.” I didn’t want to look at him, but I could tell his tone had grown more thoughtful. He let his hands fall to my wrist, the feeling of his glove against my skin was somehow comforting. “Come with me.” He gripped tightly and led me through the door of the study faster than I could protest. We walked down the stairs, confused maids and staff staring at us as we blew by them before leaving through the heavy doors of the winery and onto the dirt path which held endless possibilities of destinations. I protested, but there was no escaping his grip and, soon, all my effort was on keeping up with his pace.

When I thought I couldn’t take another step we stopped, he released my hand and with him no longer keeping me upright, I fell into the grass below me, my arms sprawled outward. I breathed in deeply and relished the feeling of the wind against my face.

“It’s been a long time since I moved that quickly.”

“How do you feel?”

“Let me get back to you on that… ” I laughed and rested my hand against my chest, the beating of my heart pounding there as I tried to breathe with hot lungs.

I looked up at the sky, the vastness of it stealing my vision and removing anything else. My skin was tickled by the blades of grass that brushed against it, and I watched as a small bee flew over my face his swaying movement mesmerizing. When was the last time I was outside like this… it felt like such a long time ago.

I stretched my hand toward the sky above me, the blue color peeking through my spread fingers, my palm cutting off the fuzzy clouds that moved lazily along. His face came into view and I realized I had yet to put my glasses back on.

He bent down to meet me, his back falling into the grass at my side, hair following the pull of gravity and spreading out in the grassy hill. 

“I can’t believe you are laying in the grass.” I chuckled and dropped my hand back onto my chest, turning my head to look at him.

“I’m known to have a few surprises up my sleeve.” He responded, turning his head to look at me, the light from above gracing his face and somehow only making him even more beautiful than he already was. It was so blinding that I had to look away.

“Hah, well, color me impressed.” For the first time in days, I feel a small reprieve from the darkness which had seeped into my skin. Something internal began to tingle, starting from my fingertips and slowly up my arms and as I took in a deep breath the smell of sweet flowers filled my nose. “Thank you, Diluc.”

He reached for the hand which was moving back and forth above the grass at my side, his strong, large grip providing protection and comfort, and for the first time in days, the feeling of warmth.

“Promise to tell me next time you are struggling; don’t hide away alone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

---

I feel much like Kiki did in Kiki’s Delivery Service ... how can I fly again when I feel so ... bleh 

I’ll keep trying, all <3 

Something was very, very wrong, and he was absolutely certain it had something to do with the fact that a heart was beating in his chest.

Loud, angry shouts echoed in the air, familiar voices clashing in fury. Someone stumbled on the ground, a few meters away, cursed and righted themselves, backing away from him. Beneath his fingers, the grass was cool and wet, painfully numbing his hands. Panic pounded at his ribcage, scraped at his throat, strained to free itself. It demanded an outlet for its energy, encouraged him to get up and run away, but refused to provide any reason for the fear.

With a throat too dry to scream with, he whimpered to himself instead, a tiny, pathetic noise. Amongst the shouting, it shouldn’t have been heard, and yet in a matter of seconds, someone approached him. “Keaton? Keaton, are you alright? Can you hear me? Keaton?”

Keaton. Vaguely, part of his head recognised that as his name, the word that he answered to, chosen after months of agonising and searching and responding to a name that was not his own. The rest of his head was pulling itself in a thousand directions, screaming, fearful, angry, confused, scared.

He peered up from his knees, where his head had been buried. Everything was white, smoky, a few dark shapes moving amongst the mist, jostling and shouting. Wincing away from the commotion, he lowered his stare to the floor, watching the white. It didn’t move like normal smoke – it coiled, crept, reaching out to him in a friendly, gentle way. After a moment of watching, he brushed a hand through it.

Touching it bought a new jolt of panic, confusion, fear, so overwhelming he was almost blinded by it. Jerking his hand away with a sharp hiss, he tried to slow his breathing to a normal level but found the smoke still snaking towards him, seeking him out, desperate to share its terror.

At first, he wanted to scramble away, but his head and body weren’t co-ordinating yet, and it was surrounding him from all angles. When it started to creep closer, enclosing him in a smaller and smaller patch, he instinctively twitched his hand, and the creeping tendrils were pushed away by an invisible force, leaving a small, round patch of grass clear for him to stay in. And stay he did, eye sockets pressed into his knees, heart pounding, thoughts moving far too quickly for him to keep up with.

Keaton. Him. His name. His body, stiff and awkward as it was. His hands, buzzing, burning, why weren’t they buzzing or burning? He could remember them buzzing and burning and something bad had happened.

What? What? What had happened? Where was he? Who was he? Keaton? The name tasted right, but unfamiliar at the same time. Why was he here? How was he here? He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be breathing. Was he breathing?

Someone. Next to him, the same voice as before, one he recognised but couldn’t place. Whoever it was, he knew he trusted them. Why? How? Doesn’t matter. They were saying something, had been saying something for a while, a low soothing mumble for his ears only, words that didn’t make sense yet, words that were trying to help him. The voice came attached with an image of someone tall, holding a long pole and grinning, as if having just delivered a terrible joke. Not helpful. Not useful. He ignored it.

How long had he been on the floor? How long had he been breathing, thinking, cowering? How long had his eyes been clamped shut for? It helped his breathing slow down. It helped his shoulders relax. He kept his eyes shut, hugging his knees, gripping his arms so tightly he could feel the outline of the bone.

Bone. Bone. His bones. Peeking through his skin, his skin coming undone, he had watched it unwind itself, oh god, oh god, what had happened to him?!

Around him, the shouting continued. Someone fearful, nearby, words translating into meaning in his head over the new wave of panic; “Get out! Go away! Leave him alone!”

Someone angry, further away; “You’ve fucked him! You’ve fucked him! This is your fault!”

Someone muttering, almost out of his range. “This isn’t right. This can’t be right.”

Someone speaking, right next to him; “It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t worry. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

A blink and the shouting was gone, the quiet murmur next to him gone, moved to a hushed conversation a few meters away from him.

“Is he alive?” The frightened voice, the person who had been shouting was asking, a much calmer, more feminine voice. He recognised it again, understood it was someone he trusted, didn’t know how or why. With a closer vocalisation, memories swarmed him; a dark and dreary seafront. Braided hair blowing in the wind as tired eyes frowned down at a folder. Ranting passionately together about something not very important. They were good things to recall, sweet moments in the confusion he was drowning in, even if they did raise more questions.

“He’s alive,” the first familiar voice said, a masculine voice. “I think he’s a bit scared.”

A bit scared. That was putting it lightly. Granted, the pounding panic had subdued into pressing anxiety, but he was still more than a bit scared.

“Didn’t expect this as an outcome,” the first voice continued, picking at his words. “Didn’t think he’d…”

“No, me neither,” replied the second. “It’s a miracle. Alhamdulillah.” A pause, a moment of quiet, a moment for his head to calm down a little, then again, “Is he… are you sure he’s alive? Definitely alive?”

“Ask him yourself.”

“I’m here,” Keaton said quietly, eyes still screwed shut, the words bitter and foreign on his tongue. The hum of sound in his throat made his pulse race, but he swallowed it all down. “I’m alive.”

Someone responded, but the panic was drowning out words again. There was peace in the blackness, calm in the quiet, even when it came from ignored speech and shut eyes. He took what he could get, kept his head lowered, kept his terror as low as it would go.

Blink. He was being guided to his feet, someone holding his arm, gently narrating what they were doing as he was walked somewhere. For a few steps, he let himself be pulled through the dark, but quickly found it was more dizzying to walk with his eyes shut than it was terrifying to look around. He could be guided into some of the white smoke, stumbling into a suffocating trap of unmanageable panic. He could trip and fall. It was safer.

Logic didn’t make it any less terrifying. Fear was not logical. Fear cowered at the tapping of tree branches at a dark window, and the shuddering settling of the house at night. Fear flinched away from the unfamiliar and unknown and hid behind a pounding heart. Fear coaxed and nurtured an irrational thought process that kept him hunched over, keeping himself as small as possible as he stared around.

The only relief was the white smoke was now gone, but that was barely a relief; now he could see everything clearly. Images sang at him, high-pitched and straining. Everything jabbed at him, demanding attention. Bush. Grass. Fence. Tree. Bench. Path. People. Stone. Stones, plural. Floating all around, every single pebble and rock that had been on the ground was held in the air, perfectly still, as if poised to fire.

Too much. He shut his eyes.

Blink. Opening them again as the panic started to die down, he glanced up quickly. Sure enough, the stones were still there, frozen in place. Watching. Waiting. The people with him – one tall and white, by his side, the other short and black, leading the way, both familiar, both unnameable – weren’t ignoring the rocks entirely, but also weren’t giving any indication that they were strange.

Maybe it was normal. Maybe he hadn’t properly loaded the world in his brain. Something was clearly wrong with him right now. His heart was still thumping in his chest. His head was still screaming in panic. So what if there were floating stones all around him? It was the least of his worries.

Their presence wouldn’t leave him alone. After a few steps, with his head lowered to the floor, he murmured, “Are the stones meant to be doing that?”

If there had been a conversation before he spoke, it died as soon as the first word left his mouth. “No,” the second voice told him, coming from the black woman. A name nagged at his head, out of reach, almost taunting him. “You’re holding them.” 

“Me?” His voice was barely louder than a breath. Eyes stuck to the closest stone, he flicked his wrist experimentally, dismissively, and sure enough, it fell to the floor. Every stone fell to the floor, in unison, leaving the air empty.

“There’s no other telekinetics around, Keaton,” she said kindly, casually, unaware of the explosion this new information caused in his head.

Telekinetic. Moving objects without touching them. Yes. Yes, that was what he could do. But to this extent? To this degree? To the point that every stone in the limited distance he could see had been held aloft, held still? That was surely too much. Past his limit. Past a limit. What limit? He had a limit? He had passed a limit. Passed a limit and watched his skin unravel to reveal the bones in his arms as a result.

Horror swept up his throat. The person at his side jumped as Keaton tore himself from their grasp, stumbled to one side and threw up, stomach acid burning his mouth and nose, eyes watering. He shut them again as if it would hide the fact he was sobbing.

Blink. He was in a vehicle, a van, being driven through the night. An endless whirlpool of panic frothed and spiralled in his head, unwilling, unable to stop. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he was. Who was he? A name, an ability, a wave of terror, that wasn’t what made up a person. There was more. He just couldn’t remember it.

Eyes open again, he was met with a wide array of small figures, mostly of rats, all perched on the dashboard of the van, watching him. For a moment, he stared back, then glanced to his right. Someone was driving him, someone was next to him. 

Stranger danger. A warning flashed in his head, delightfully normal and much quieter than the fear that pounded with his pulse, and it almost made him smile. These weren’t strangers, anyway. It was the pair from the park, unnamed but trusted, both engaged in a conversation that he chose to ignore.

Whilst they were distracted, he took the chance to study them, try and recognise them. Next to him, on the second passenger seat, was the woman. Her wide smile as she spoke was something he had many memories of, and the way she flicked a long braid behind her shoulder was comfortingly recognisable. She was dressed in a warm, fuzzy jumper, not unlike the material on the neck of his jacket, and looked tired. That didn’t seem unusual for her.

Next to her, on the driver’s seat, was the man, his eyes stuck to the road, listening. His long, blond hair was falling in his face. The sight of it pulled a memory, a moment Keaton had asked about it. Does that not get annoying? He’d gotten a tight smile in response, then almost deliberately, he’d shaken more hair over his eyes. Sweet memories. Confusing memories.

More notable than the hair was his choice of clothes. If a headache could be a person, it would look like him. Or, more specifically, it would dress like him; luring you into a false sense of security with a reasonable, if overly large sweater, then punching you twice in the face with trousers with such jarringly bright patterns they should be considered a hazard.

Lots to take in. Turning away from the pair before they noticed him staring, leaning his head against the window, a hand over his face, he peered through his fingers at the world passing by. His eyelashes blurred the streetlights into bright, spiking strands, dancing as he was pulled through the night. Did he know this place? This town, city, street? Its roads were flat, twisting around each other like snakes wrestling. It seemed quaint, familiar, out of his grasp like so many other things.

It was getting to be annoying that everything was staying away from him. After a moment, as the conversation died down, he dared to ask, “Where are we?”

“Oh, hey, you are awake,” the driver said, delighted. “Are you feeling alright?”

“No,” he said bluntly. The window was cold, numbing his knuckles, providing something to ground himself against the tide of panic. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Mika’s van,” the woman said, which didn’t help much. Although he had first heard her shouting, it seemed very unlike her to raise her voice much at all. Whatever had happened earlier, it must have been bad. “Heading back to the hotel.”

Mika. Not his name, the name of the driver. It slotted into place, filling at least one frustrating hole. There was barely time to relish in the relief before the next scrap of information clicked in his head.

The image of a hotel had very little attached to it – a few specific memories of this pair in a room, talking, laughing, arguing. Him, sitting at a desk, eavesdropping on them as he worked on something, the same sound replaying over and over and over. The two of them hunched over separate meals, leaning against each other as they ate. Friendly. Soft. Welcoming.

So why did the mere mention of a hotel fill him with so much dread, such an overwhelming feeling of wrongness? It drowned out even his panic, leaving him with just the sound of his thudding heart and the creeping sense he didn’t belong.

Blink. He didn’t notice the time pass, but the van was stopped, the engine still and silent. Someone was speaking to him, the still unnamed woman next to him. “When we’re in the room, we can get you some tea,” she was saying as if that would solve all his problems.

“We’re nearly there now,” she was saying.

“When we’re inside, it’ll be better,” she was saying.

“Can you get inside?” She was asking. It felt like a demand.

“Lynne,” came a gentle warning. He barely reacted to the name as it slotted into place. “Give him time.”

Keaton wanted to say yes. The part of his head that grasped at every fact he uncovered, holding onto them carefully and keeping them safe and secure wanted to nod, regardless of cold sweat that was making him shiver and the sense of foreboding that turned the air in his lungs into needles. Telling the truth would be making a fuss, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Or – no, that was the second to last thing he wanted, beaten only by the certainty that he would rather die than set foot in the hotel. Why? Why was this hotel so dreadful? What about it was making him hunch so small, so tight?

The van doors opened before Keaton could find an answer. Eyes snapping open, he stared at the building – all bright lights, walls of glass, white accents. Beyond that, out of his sight but he knew the details were there – a polished floor, the smell of industrial cleaning, cloying, clogging up the air. Vividly, hauntingly, the memory of a reception, a desk, a bell. Three images that made his hands buzz.  

“I can’t go in there,” he whispered into his fist. “Something’s wrong.”

Blink. “Wrong?” Came a confused echo. Mika, outside the van, holding the door open for Keaton. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He kept his wide-eyed stare on the hotel in front of him, tried to keep his throat from ripping itself apart with the held-back screams. “But I can’t go in. I won’t.” A pause, and quietly, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear himself; “Please don’t make me.”

“We won’t,” came an almost instant response. Lynne’s voice was drowning in sincerity. “Of course not. What do you want to do instead?”

Blink. “I don’t know.” Seven of the rat figurines on the dashboard trembled, lifting a little, and Mika glanced at them, nervous. Forcefully, Keaton unclenched his fingers, settling them back down gently. “I don’t know,” he repeated, softer. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he was told, Lynne’s voice almost stern. “Take your time. Figure it out.”

Blink. He needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. Somewhere dark and quiet where he could curl up small and ignore the world. The answer brushed by his fingers, and he grasped it firmly. “Home,” he breathed. “Please, take me home.”

Blink. The van, rumbling away underneath him. He had no idea where home was, but he was being driven somewhere. Time had swept past him, leaving him in different moments with no idea how he had ended up there. He could only assume something had happened in the meantime. He could only hope this wouldn’t continue much longer.

Thinking into the future made his head hurt, but not as much as trying to dig into the past. The future was supposed to be confusing. The past was meant to hold facts, opinions, memories, not a murky haziness.

“What happened to me?” His mumble had to travel through his hands and compete with the rumble of the engine for attention. There was no chance anyone had heard it.

“You don’t remember?” He jumped hard at a response, fear flaring up in his chest. Lynne flinched next to him. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Moving his hands from his mouth to make it easier to be heard, he rested them on his knees instead, bouncing them up and down to expel some of the panicked energy. The trembling of the van under him provided a soft buzzing, nowhere near as insistent and urgent as he was expecting. His bones were stable under his skin and it felt wrong, but thinking about how they had peeked through his flesh, letting the meat crumble into dust as they grew more and more exposed – it made every disk in his spine shake.  “Don’t remember what?”

He was so distracted by the wrongness of his skin wrapping around him he almost missed Lynne’s careful words. “Four days ago,” she said softly. “You… You, uh…”

“What?”

“You died, Keaton,” Mika said bluntly. “You died.”

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #20: Petrichor

Petrichor – a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

The seaside cave well shimmered, and a woman fell out.

She groaned in pain, clutching her head. She tried opening her eyes and almost immediately pressed them shut again, recoiling from what was not a particularly bright sunlight, but seemed blinding to her.

“What….what the hells was that…by the Titans why is it so loud??” she muttered, to no one in particular. The tide wasn’t particularly high, but the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shoreline provided a constant background noise.

She stumbled towards the entrance. It led to a rocky shoreline. She still wasn’t quite ready to open her eyes, but the pain her feet felt as she stepped on rocks to get to the path that led away from the cave opening led her know that somewhere her boots that she vaguely remembered wearing were apparently gone.

Finally, after what seemed like entirely too many steps, she felt grass under her feet instead of sand and rock. She fell to her knees, clutching her forehead. Her mind was swirling with concepts and ideas she knew she’d never known before but somehow felt like second nature to her, as though she’d spent years working with them. What was happening to her?

Her lips felt dry, and she wet them with her tongue. Wait, lips? Since when did she have lips? Ugh, had she just covered them in ichor? Wait…no her tongue tasted salt…salt on the air. But she’d been near oceans any number of times in the past decade or so, she’d never remembered tasting that since…her change. Everything had been cold and numb and lifeless, and she’d grown accustomed to it. Now she felt warm. Wait, no, she felt like she was burning, just a little. Was she on fire?

She forced her eyes open. No….that was just the sunlight beating down on her skin. Her arms and hands, they have living, feeling skin.

She looks at them in terror, breathing rapidly rising. The light is too bright again, and she shuts her eyes again. The sensations, there’s too many of them, too much all at once, she can’t-

“Madam, are you all right?”

It’s a voice, another woman’s. She focuses on it. She sounds genuinely concerned. She opens her eyes, trying to focus them on the direction the voice came from, and slowly but surely they focus on a woman in a black dress (robes?) trimmed in gray feathers or fur. She has brilliant silver eyes that almost perfectly match her hair and….wait, are those cat ears on her head?

She opened her mouth. A weak voice that she doesn’t immediately recognize emerged. “Please. I…I don’t know what’s happened to me.

The cat-eared woman reached into the pack she was carrying, pulling out what looks to be a light colored blanket the color of grass and trees. She wraps it around her. It feels soft and worn. As she takes the blanket and draws it in close, she realizes that same softness is all around her, and that she must have been naked. “Th…thank youi”

“Of course.” replied the other woman. “My name is Y’shtola. Can you tell me what befell you?”

Her voice is soothing, and the woman felt like she could be trusted. “Um…well, the last I remember, I was deep in the jungles of Stranglethorn, places that no civilization had touched in centuries, and I came across a cave. I was looking for…someone, and I tracked them to a cave. It was…deep. I have no idea how it got there, it certainly didn’t seem like a natural formation. A-anyway, I made it to the back and I sensed a strange magic, obscured in one of the walls. I placed a hand near it, to try and get some kind of a sense of what it might be….and it yanked me into the wall…through the wall, really. Then I saw…strange sights I can’t make sense of. I must have blacked out, because I woke up in another cave back over there.” She raised a single arm back in the direction of where she came. “And now….everything is so bright and loud and my thoughts aren’t making any sense, and everything feels…just feels weird. Wait…”

She opened her eyes again, looking at her arms. Smooth, slightly pale but still healthy skin covered them. Her eyes went wide, she immediately picked up the blanket wrapped around her front and looked underneath it. That same skin covered her entire body. There was no sign of decay or open wounds that had to be stitched shut. She looked fit and healthy (and had some gorgeous curves, she noted with a blush) “No…this can’t be….how….I’m ALIVE??”

Everything gets loud in her ears again, and only now does she realize it’s not the ocean, that is her breathing. Rapid and shallow and growing in intensity. She’s panicking.

Y’shtola is in front of her again. “Breathe deeply, my dear. In, and hold for a bit, that’s it. Now out, slowly. Good. A few more times, if you please.”

She complies with her instructions, and soon, she feels calmer. “I…I haven’t needed to do that in so long. Was it always that loud?”

Y’shtola smiles. “I suspect you’ll get used to it soon enough, if what I am guessing about you is at all accurate.”

The woman looks at her, fear in her eyes. Or maybe it’s hope. “Do…do you know what’s happened to me?”

“I have a hypothesis. But to confirm, I’ll need to ask you some things, if you’re up for that.”

“Please.”

Y’shtola nods and helps her sit, wrapping the blanket around her to both sit on and protect her modesty. before sitting next to her. She looks her up and down, a hand on her cheek. “First of all, would I be accurate in stating that you were a walking sentient corpse before you came through? A…what was the term…undead?”

The woman nods.

“Your people called themselves “the Forsaken”, right? Because though you’d regained free will, you believed the rest of the world would shun you for your state?”

“Yes. But I’ve never seen anyone with….forgive me if this is offensive, but ears like yours. So how do you know all of this? Where exactly am I?

Y’shtola smiled at her. “It is not. And there is a reason you haven’t. This may be hard for you to understand, but…you are no longer on your world. This world is known as Hydaelyn, though it has other descriptors as well. There is much about the Rift we do not understand, but for the one other instance of this that I have an example of, the person who came through had their own form altered as well. You…you may not look as you remember.”

Y’shtola looks above her eyes, to the…top of her head? The woman’s right arm reaches out to touch it. Her hair is soft, and she brings it to the front of her eyes. It’s graying, even has some blue in the highlights, but it’s a healthy color. It feels strong, not the putrid pile of straw she’d had for too many tears. Her arm keeps raising and she finds…something soft growing off the top of her head. Her other arm shoots up and finds a similar one on the same side. “What on….are those….are those RABBIT EARS?” Her arms shoot to the side of her head. Nothing, just more smooth skin.

She stood, quickly looking around. There was a stream, not far from where they were sitting that fed into the ocean, and she bolted for it. Once she made it there, she leaned over. The water’s reflection wasn’t perfect, but she was able to make out enough details. “Oh, Light…” She began tearing up, placing her hand over the lower half of her face before she quickly dropped it again.

Y’shtola came up behind her, draping the blanket over her again. “Apologies if this is unwanted, we are alone out here, but I did not wish for a stranger to behold your nude form if you did not want that.”

She sniffed, wiping a tear from her face. “No, I wouldn’t. Thank you. I’m sorry for running like that, I just…”

“I know this is all a shock, and to look so different must be-“

“No, you don’t understand.” the woman interrupted, emotion thick in her voice. “Ears aside…that face…is mine. It’s what I looked like so many years ago, before I died. Hells it’s even before the decades long passage of time of being human. I…I never thought I’d see this face again.” She sniffed.

Y’shtola looked a bit startled. “Ah…well I’m very happy for you. And the, ah, ears? I assume you didn’t have anything like them previously.”

She chuckled. “No, I didn’t. But honestly, they’re kind of cute. Is this something unique to this world? I saw…I saw your tail when I got up. Do people in this world have animal features? Wait, is that insensitive? I’m so sorry if it is.”

Y’shtola laughed. “No, not everyone. My people are called Miqo’te. We do have features that are also shared with feline creatures. Your….what you have become are known as Viera. They have rabbit-like ears.

“Miqo’te and Viera. Well, at least this world calls its peoples prettier names than where I came from. So, um, you mentioned another person came through this portal before me?”

“Ah, yes. I wasn’t here when this happened, you see. He only told me the story recently, within the past couple of days, actually. That’s why I was out here, I wanted to investigate this portal and see what I might learn of it, and maybe ward it so that no one discovered it from our side. His story was remarkably similar to yours, actually. He stumbled into it and fell through, emerging here in a body returned to life in prime health. Before that he was undead, himself, though he became a hyur instead of a viera. Hyurs, from what he said, are physically similar to a species called “humans” from your world. Azeroth, I believe that was the name, yes. Is that what you were before you…died?”

The woman grabbed Y’shtola’s shoulders. “The person who came through, he was a male Forsaken? How long ago? Do you know where he is?”

Y’shtola’s shock gave way to suspicion. “I know where he can be found, yes. But you said you were tracking someone. Do you mean him harm? Because he is a dear friend of mine, and I’ll not bring you to him if you do.”

She shook her head. “No…the person I was tracking is…he’s extremely important to me. Someone I thought I had lost, that might have been dead. But I uncovered evidence that he’d been seen to the south, and so I…”

Y’shtola cursed her lack of natural sight, because she suddenly had a feeling she knew who this woman was. Though she could sense the hope and trepidation this woman’s aether, she couldn’t behold simple physical details, and a glimpse of her own eyes would confirm it. But instead, she had to ask.

“My lady…what is your name?”

Startled, the woman blinks. “It’s…Gwenefyr. Gwenefyr Franks. The man I’m looking for is named Aleister Franks. He’s my…my husband. Is….is he the man you’re referring to.?”

Y’shtola inhaled sharply. “By the Twelve, it’s really you. He….yes, Gwenefyr Franks, he is. He…he thinks you’re dead!

Gwenefyr Franks laughed with joy. “I thought he was for the longest time! But he’s here! What has be been doing? Will you take me to him, please, Y’shtola?”

“Of course! Please come with me! I’ll….there’s a lot to cover of what he’s been up to. Even I don’t know the full tale, but…I’m part of an order that’s dedicated to saving this world, we use the term “star”, by the way, from forces that would see it annihilated. It’s called the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Aleister…he’s a member as well. I’ll take you to our headquarters, our home, and if he’s not there, our administrator will know how to get in contact with him. I will see you two reunited by any-“

Thunder rumbled overhead. Clouds had gathered above the two, unnoticed as they spoke. Rain began pouring down.

“Well, we’d best get moving. This will slow us down some, but it shouldn’t take long to reach the nearest settlement, and from there we can-” Y’shtola realized that Gwenefyr hadn’t moved. “Gwenefyr? Are you all right?”

She had closed her eyes and was inhaling through her nose deeply

“Gwenefyr? Is aught amiss?”

“No…I just…I really loved the smell of the earth just when it starts to rain. It always makes me think of renewal and growth. And that feels kind of fitting right now.”

Gwenefyr smiled and tried to dance in the rain, but quickly stopped when she realized that such an action was proving difficult when keeping the blanket covering her naked form.

“You, uh, you think we can find some clothing along the way, Y’shtola?”

Y’shtola smirked at her. “Don’t want to greet your husband in the altogether?”

“Not in front of anyone else!”

“Sensible, given the motley crew that makes up the Scions. Yes, I suspect we can find you some clothing along the way. I’ll even cover the cost for you, since I doubt you’re hiding money anywhere on you.”

Gwenefyr laughed. “Well, I’ll pay you back…somehow. “

“I accept payments in embarrassing tales about Aleister!”

“You have yourself a deal!”

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.7}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Another five minutes later the rain stopped altogether, and they finally continued their journey along the blue line. Eventually they also started talking again, falling into the usual easy teasing that always left them both trying their hardest not to smirk all too much. But it did definitely make the walking a lot more enjoyable. Two hours passed like that, and seeing as the tracing spell still guided them on relentlessly, they decided to take another break. Honestly, Robin couldn't remember when she had last walked for such a long time, and even if her feet didn't hurt too much, her back was starting to ache from the weight of her backpack. It wasn't made for hiking, and neither was she obviously.

"Is there any spell to make something lighter? Or at least feel less heavy?" She asked with a small groan while she rolled her shoulders to somehow loosen up the aches. It didn't do much to help.

"Not that I am aware of." He replied in a mildly concerned tone, while watching her pace up and down in front of him with a frown. "Why do you ask?"

"Nevermind." She sighed in return, and finally gave up in her attempts to reduce the soreness in her body. "Isn't anything of importance."

"If it causes you pain, it most definitely is."

"It's not pain, really. Just… my shoulders." She shrugged, then winced at the idiocracy of that move when the pain crawled through her back. "My bag's not made for hours of walking. That, or I'm just weak."

"I would assume a bit of both in this case."

"Funny." Robin rolled her eyes at him, but she also couldn't help the small smile. "Do you want me to challenge you to do better?"

"It would be an idea."

"Fine… I doubt that after two hours with my bag, you're still thinking it's my weakness causing me pain."

"We shall have to see about that."

When they finally decided to go on, Robin let him carry the bag, and she walked next to him with a smug smile on her face, upon which he merely rolled his eyes. Of course he wouldn't have admitted in a million years that he was only doing this to spare her the pain, but they both knew it perfectly well nonetheless, and that sufficed to keep the smile on Robin's face for a long time.

Two more hours down the road however, or rather the non-existent road in this case, and Robin didn't feel like smiling anymore at all. They were taking another break, a very much needed one after this torture of walking up and down hills. It was three o'clock in the afternoon by now, but they still had gotten nowhere near the end of the stupid line. Stupid tracing spell. The sight of the blue dust didn't fill Robin with excitement anymore, but with the urgent wish to cry. She was exhausted and hurting and honestly starting to doubt if the stupid spell was even working as it should. Finding the wraiths' moss shouldn't have taken this long, by far not. Perhaps they were being led nowhere. Perhaps this was all just one big, stupid mistake.

Robin didn't even look up from where she was ripping grass out of the ground in frustration when Snape sat down next to her. Honestly, she wanted to be excited about the closeness between them now, which would very well have been evitable if he'd wanted to stay away, but all she could find within herself was tiredness and despair. Thus she merely kept on sulking and occasionally blinking away angry tears.

"Did you have anything for breakfast before we left the castle this morning?" He asked after a while, and Robin frowned immediately as she turned to look at him at last.

"What kind of stupid question is that? No, I did not. There were more important things on my mind than food."

"Then perhaps you should consider having one of the snacks you tend to carry around now."

"I'm not hungry." She mumbled and looked back down to the ground, but he ignored her and placed her backpack right in her field of vision.

"You will feel better nonetheless."

"How I'm feeling is not the problem!" She groaned and rolled her eyes to herself. "The problem is that this stupid spell obviously isn't working! We have been walking for hours and where has it gotten us? For all we know, not the least bit closer to anywhere!"

"So you are giving up?"

"No! I don't know…" Robin's tone deflated in an instant, and her eyes started watering again. Damnit. "Look, I don't want to give up! I never give up, it's not something I do, but… everything just feels so terribly far away from me right now."

"It certainly would be ironic if you gave up on an obviously functioning spell after a mere few hours." He said in a calm certainty that made Robin frown again.

"Why would it be ironic? You can see that it's obviously not going anywhere!" She argued back, looking up to study his face for any hints of where he was going with this.

Instead of letting her drag him into an argument however, he returned her gaze in an almost soothing calm. "It has been years and you still haven't given up on me for a single day, even if the prospects of any result were far worse than they are now. A line of floating blue dust certainly is more than I have ever given you to warrant that faith."

Robin's heart skipped a beat, and her mind became a tangled mess of things she wanted to say and things she definitely should not say. A chaos of emotions, and a chaos of impulses. But the sincerity in his words finally became a beacon for her mind to line up for sorting.

"My refusal to give up on you has really gotten us quite far, huh?" She mused after a moment, managing a half smile even. "One could even say it's a good thing I'm too stubborn to give up."

"One could indeed."

"So… if I follow that tracing line to the other side of the country because I refuse to give up on my theory…"

"I will still be right behind you." He added in, remaining in absolute sincerity, and Robin's eyes would've almost welled up again for entirely different reasons, had he not saved her from that fate by speaking on. "However, only if you eat something now."

A sound between a sob, a laugh and a snort escaped her before she could help it, and while she blinked away the totally unnecessary moisture in her eyes, she also had to bite her lip to tone down her smile. Really, for someone so desperately serious most of the time, he was getting exceptionally good at cheering her up. With a dutiful nod, she finally dug through her backpack until she stumbled upon an apple she had snatched from dinner last night, and a packet of Twirls that had only been mildly smashed by her books. As was so often the case, her appetite came while she ate, and the apple was gone in a blink. The Twirls however she insisted on sharing, and after evading the minor protest she could convince Snape to take the second bar. Upon that it didn't take long for the sugar to find its way into her blood and the smile its way into her mind, and mere minutes later the sulk was all but forgotten.

When they went on to follow the blue line with renewed confidence on Robin's part, she was the one to carry the backpack again. Snape had of course had to admit that it was the bag rather than Robin's shoulders that was the root of the problem, and perhaps that is why he had been reluctant to let her carry it again. But seeing as it was her bag, her expedition and thus her lead, he had very little choice but to let her proceed. After all, her shoulders had rested quite enough to hurt only very little now, but she still hoped that their hike would come to an end soon.

They got exactly ten minutes of mostly easy walking before a distant thunder announced the inevitable. The sky darkened immediately, a ceiling of the deepest grey looming over their heads, and half a minute later it started pouring again as if there was no tomorrow. This time however there was no shelter, no time to take another break either, and thus they continued on despite the rain. Robin luckily had her rain jacket to keep at least her torso dry, but she had to wear her hair down in order to fit the hood over her head enough to keep the water out of her eyes, which in return meant that the part of her hair that hung over her shoulders and down over her chest was drenched within seconds. So were her jeans, which now stuck to her thighs quite uncomfortably, clinging onto her skin like wet fabric always did. Snape for his part had the umbrella spell to protect himself from the rain, but even that didn't keep him dry for all too long.

Thirty minutes into the downpour, and Robin thought she might as well be walking through an ocean. At least the line was still there, even if it was slowly getting too dark around them to see it without squinting.

"Do you think it is the rain or the sunset that causes the darkness?" Snape asked eventually, while they tried to move up the steep hill the blue line sent them over instead of leading them around it for once. The higher they ventured, the more the grassland became ridden with rocks and ragged stone, and with the constant rain and growing darkness, it soon became a nightmare to move on. Robin did so anyway, walking a good few steps ahead in stubborn determination to follow this bloody line to the end now.

"Currently? The rain." She looked back over her shoulder at Snape, who had mostly given up on his umbrella and was scowling up at the sky now instead, as if that would do anything but get water into his eyes. "It should be around four o'clock right now, which gives us another hour until sunset. Approximately. I actually looked that up, you know, because-..."

Robin was cut off in her sentence when her foot slipped on a wet rock and she lost her balance before she could find something to hold onto. With a helpless yelp, she came crashing down onto the sodden ground, hitting her entire right side on the very stones she had slipped on. For a broken second, she didn't feel anything but the shock. Then however the impact got through to her, and the burning and stabbing in her side seethed through her entire body.

"Fuck…" She hissed through clenched teeth, but tried to scramble back to her feet anyway even before the wave of pain decreased. Adrenaline did funny things to both body and mind sometimes.

"For God's sake, Robin, can you please refrain from getting hurt for once at least?!" His voice was ineffably close to her suddenly, exasperated and yet undeniably laced with deep concern, and she almost would've slipped a second time once she stood on wobbly legs again. "Are you alright?"

A few seconds passed in silence, and Robin inspected her aching side first of all before allowing herself to give an answer. Other than a little mud and water, there wasn't even a single hole or tear in her jacket nor in her jeans. Always a good sign.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." She said quickly, taking a few steps and swinging her arms a little just to make sure that statement was true. "I'm fine."

"The last time you said that, you broke down two seconds later and I had to catch you." He quirked an eyebrow at her in doubt, which however looked funny enough as drenched as he was, and Robin had to smile at both the sight and the thought that she probably didn't look any better. Even worse, likely, with the mud clinging to her now.

"I promise that I actually believe I'm fine this time." She replied, while the smile still stayed on her lips. The pain was fading already, and as long as she didn't get a punch to the side now, she'd be good. "I just slipped. It really is nothing."

He kept frowning at Robin in mild doubt even upon her words of reassurance, but they continued their way up the hill anyway, side by side from now on. Her ribs and hip kept stinging for a few minutes, but after a while even that decreased and soon enough the only reminder of her fall was the mud lingering on her clothes.

When they reached the peak of the bloody hill at last, Robin's eyes lit up immediately and her heart skipped a beat in excitement at the sight that was finally revealed in front of them. A large building of wrought ancient stones, the ruins of a long abandoned castle, nestled into the slopes of the very hill they stood upon. It wasn't quite as large as Hogwarts, but large enough to be considered a castle nonetheless. A million questions ran through Robin's mind in an instant. Who had lived here? How long has it been abandoned? Why has it been abandoned? Was it even as abandoned as it looked?

The most important thing however was that the tracing line led straight to the castle, ending in a smoky blue cloud right above the ruins. That was all Robin could see in the dark, but it was by far enough to delight her. The tracing spell had actually worked after all! With an excited smile she turned to look at Snape, blinking away the rain that finally had started running into her eyes as well, and he returned her gaze for a moment until her continued grinning made him roll his eyes with a hint of a smile of his own. They didn't need words in order to understand what the other thought; and they still didn't say a thing as they made their way down the hill, slipping and stumbling more than walking at this point.

The good thing was that their downhill track went a lot faster than the slow way up, and mere minutes later they passed through the woven front gate of the castle grounds. The very moment they stepped into the entrance hall however, the tracing line above their heads quivered and balled together into a thick cloud of blue dust, stilling for just a moment, before at last it spread into all directions with a start, vanishing between the gaps and cracks in between the stones. Robin observed the ongoings with a smile. While she hadn't quite expected the tracing spell to work just this way, it certainly made a lot of sense that it would.

The thing about wraiths' moss was, as the name already suggested, that it wasn't exactly from this world, neither dead nor alive. To be exact, it was almost entirely invisible to the human eye, not graspable with the mere hand, which is precisely why it was so incredibly rare and so very difficult to find. And that in return was the very reason why Robin had decided to prove her theory about it today.

The way the tracing spell was supposed to work (in her theory at least) was quite simple really: the dust in its specific mixture should be attracted by a substance in the wraiths' moss, which then results in the dust gathering on top of the invisible plant. Afterwards it should be beyond easy to make it both visible and touchable with a simple charm. So far Robin's theory, and as of yet, everything was going according to plan. Brilliant!

"Don't you just love it when things go my way?" Robin grinned as she pushed the hood off her head, then let the water melt from her clothes and hair with a wordless spell. Thank God they were out of the rain at last.

"For your notice, all I just heard was an invitation to mess with you. However, I will kindly refrain from doing so for once." He replied in subtle amusement, and when Robin turned to look at him with an exaggerated eye rolling, he actually let out a quiet snort in return.

"Anyway… now that we're both dry and out of the storm, we might wanna search for the dust before it's entirely too dark in here to find it." She said at last, and once Snape merely motioned for her to lead the way, she finally stepped further into the entrance hall.

It was a truly amazing place, derelict and long seized by nature as its rightfully reclaimed property. But the cold, moist masses of stone held an ineffable mystery to them, a tingle at Robin's senses she couldn't quite explain. Everything about this place was looming, lurking, waiting… yet she could not tell for what.

They made their way through the empty hall with quietly echoing steps, in a conscious effort not to disturb the ancient silence. Robin walked ahead, a mere two steps, but she was well aware of Snape's constant presence behind her, and she honestly was grateful for it. Something about this place was odd… intriguing beyond measure, but eerie and coiled up, ready to jump into their faces if they made one wrong move. The small hairs in Robin's neck stood on high alert, and her mind followed suit.

"What are you noticing?" He asked then, in a whisper only, and from the mere tone of his voice she could tell that he was no less alert than she was herself.

"The same thing you do, obviously." She breathed back, while however keeping her eyes on the hallway they were following into the unknown.

"All I notice is your concern, that is unsettling enough to me."

"I can feel them… The secrets dwelling in the halls around us, some of which are beautiful, others that will haunt you till the day you die." She said, and a shiver ran down her back at the very moment the words left her lips. Haunting… that was precisely the place one would expect wraiths' moss to grow, wasn't it?

They made their way through multiple hallways, crossing through rooms both empty and filled with long rotten furniture, but there was no trace of the familiar ultramarine that should have settled by now, and thus no trace of the moss anywhere. The castle was huge though, too large to search entirely, and Robin soon realized that they would need a strategy if they didn't want to continue blindly roaming through the sheer endless number of rooms.

A look into her journal proved to be helpful. The moss seemed to grow best in dark and moist places, protected from both light and wind, and ideally ones that still were cool enough to keep it constantly chilled. Robin read this part out to Snape, and they only needed one look at each other to know exactly where they were heading next.

The castle's dungeons proved to be exactly what the word promised, rust ridden shackles and chains on moss covered walls, endless tunnels and tiny cells. And yet the dungeons were unreasonably large for a castle of this size, digging deep into the hills and likely well beyond, a true maze of rooms and corridors. For exactly this reason, they decided to split up for the search.

Robin had seen enough horror movies in her summer breaks to know that splitting up was probably the worst thing one could do when already spooked, but she had also read enough accounts of successful field research to know that efficiency was a key to success. Thus she moved down the dark hallway alone now, wand raised with a bright lumos that unfortunately didn't light the path far enough ahead for her liking. Beyond carefully, she looked into every room she came across, never making an uncalculated step, and yet… Nothing. No wraiths' moss, nor anything else that was worth even a second glance. A few times she believed to see a shadow moving, out of the corner of her eyes, but every time she whipped around to catch it, there was the same nothing as everywhere else. All this search was doing was make her nerves stand on edge, and her heart rate go through the roof. After half an hour of following the pitch black corridor, she still hadn't reached the end of it but decided to turn around anyway. The plants she had seen growing down here hadn't changed in the last fifteen minutes of walking, and thus she deemed it highly unlikely that they would change even if she moved on now. Thus she headed back towards their meeting point. Damnit… she had been so sure about the moss being down here, but there wasn't a single speckle of her tracing dust to be found anywhere! The thought made her halt; if the dust wasn't here, where was it then?

She had already been walking for a good while when a distant sound echoed off the stone walls, and she froze in her step immediately. Silence. Her heart picked up speed in an instant. It stayed silent, the narrow hallway closing in on her in an uncomfortable way, and she walked on with a frown on her face. Then the echo reached her ears again, clearer this time, she heard her name… and she started running.

A million scenarios ran through her mind in time with her path through the hallways, and she could only hope that this was one of the kind that would make her regret running, not one that would make her wish she had been able to run faster. Blindly she followed the maze of corridors now, rounding corners without a second thought about what she might find behind them, until at last she saw a light shining in the distance. With burning lungs, she came closer fast until…

"Stop!" His voice made Robin freeze in an instant, and she did stop indeed right in her spot in the middle of the hallway.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" She asked, still not daring to move, but she needed an answer. Now.

"I am fine, the situation however is clearly not." He replied in utmost annoyance, and Robin felt immensely relieved at that. As long as he was upset and complaining about something, the world wasn't ending. So far so good.

"Can I move again?" She inquired carefully, trying to get her breathing back under control. Gods, running really wasn't for her, leave alone after a day like this. But adrenaline was a nice little helper in this case. "What's going on?"

"You can move, yes, but do not come near this door."

Still panting, Robin moved the remaining few steps down the hallway until she stood facing the room the light was coming from. There he was, standing in the doorway a step into the room, looking entirely furious but otherwise fine. Robin still didn't understand, but a good bunch of negative scenarios were proven wrong right then, and it honestly came as a small relief no matter what. She observed him for a quiet moment, her chest still heaving pathetically, but slowly the terrible burning in her lungs decreased.

"You… you scared me." She finally admitted, on a whim, but she thought that he should know nonetheless.

His anger seemed to lessen up upon that, as if it hadn't even occurred to him what she might be experiencing in this situation, until he looked almost sincerely sorry. "That wasn't my intention. I heard a noise and it left me thinking that you were nearby."

"Well, I… wasn't. It doesn't matter." She huffed and finally brushed the hair out of her face that had become stuck and tangled everywhere in her blind chase through the dungeons. "I hurried either way, so what's the trouble?"

"I cannot get out." Was all he said for a moment, and when Robin frowned at him first, then at the doorway that didn't even have a door hooked inside it, he finally elaborated. "I could come in here without trouble, but there seems to be a spell placed on the door that prevents me from leaving again. As if that wasn't bad enough, it so happens that everything I have tried to remove this barrier has failed."

Robin's frown deepened, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about his words. A magical prison… that means someone who had lived here at some point had been a witch or wizard. Or would a visitor bother to set up a room like this? Unlikely. That didn't help much right now either way; the only question of relevance was how she could take this barrier down.

"Robin…"

"Yes, I'm thinking! Just give me a moment…" She spoke without even paying attention to what she said. Which spells did she know that blocked magic? The apparition jinx on Hogwarts, for example. But how to find a counter curse when she didn't know which curse had been placed on the door? Damnit… she still felt so desperately on edge down here, the dark closing in on her, and the hallway seemed to shrink as well.

"Breathe, yes?" He said in a surprising calm, and Robin finally looked up at him once more. "None of this is your fault. It was I who was idiotic enough to wander in here without precautions."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't change the fact that I need to get you out of there, and I promise you that I will."

"Removing an unknown spell is an immensely difficult and highly unlikely procedure. You cannot promise me that."

"Watch me." She replied with a newfound determination that came along with a sudden idea. Snape was right, removing an unknown spell was practically impossible and would take ages of trial and error. But perhaps she didn't have to go down this road. "You might want to get as far back into the room as possible."

"What is your plan?" He asked, but still moved away from the door like Robin had told him to, retreating into the far corner.

"I'm keeping my promise by thinking outside the box." She gave him a small and weary smile, but a smile no less as she pointed her wand not at the doorframe, but at the wall next to it. "You, uh… better conjure up some kind of shield now." She took a deep breath, steadying her shaking hand in between heartbeats. "Bombarda Maxima."

______________________________

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Promised Part 3  - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2k

Part 3 - Parallels and Potions

You found yourself in a corridor. It was dark. So dark, you could hardly see anything but the low light on its end. The light was subtle, yet it pulled you towards it. As you started walking, you noticed that you held something in your hands. It was quite big, but not too heavy and you couldn’t see enough to detect what it was. So you kept on walking towards the light. Although it seemed so close, it felt like you had walked for hours on the spot. 

Finally, you reached the exit and entered a small room. It was bright and made you squint your eyes. Dozens of chairs were lined up left and right from you, with a path in their midst. The seats were all empty, but there was one person standing at the end of the path. Tom. He wore a black suit and tie, his hands intertwined on his back as he watched you walking towards him.

Now that you could finally see, you looked down yourself and saw what you were wearing. A floor-length, white dress. A wedding dress to be precise, classy and modest. The lace fabric wrapped around your arms perfectly. You also saw the thing you had brought along with you. A bouquet of flowers. Red roses, each one flawless and beautiful.

Tom smiled at you as you were slowly approaching him. He turned around and you saw his grandfather Marvolo standing at the podium. The light suddenly went out and it was dark again. You heard a scream. Elsie. Her voice echoed in your ears as you were turning to find her, stumbling in the dark again. You knocked over a chair when the lights went back on and her voice fell silent. She was nowhere to be seen. 

Only then you looked around and noticed how Tom’s smile had turned into a grotesque grimace. The floor had turned red and your feet were wet. Blood. All over the floor. It was soaking up on the fabric of your dress. 

Hissing noises came from the bouquet in your hands. The roses had turned into snakes. You shrieked and tried to throw it to the ground, but your hand didn’t let go of it, no matter how hard you tried. Marvolo’s scornful laughter got louder and louder until you couldn’t hear anything else and you fell to your knees and screamed.

You sat up in your bed, your forehead covered in sweat. A nightmare. Just a dream.

The poor sleep had drained you. You slouched in the great hall during breakfast, nibbling on your second cup of tea, when headmaster Dippet placed himself in front of the teacher’s table.

“Good morning students,” the Professor spoke. “Just a brief announcement for your information. I’m aware some of you have already eagerly waited for the reveal of this year’s head girl and boy. Well, it’s my pleasure to tell you now.”

People had stopped talking and the great hall turned quiet. Dippet looked through the rows of students with a big smile on his face. He was probably more excited than anyone else in the room. Head boy and girl. Wow. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. Naturally, your mind had been somewhere entirely different. 

It would be someone from your year, though. Those were the school rules. The headmaster chooses two students from year seven. And, although most students didn’t care that much about the title, you knew that head girls and boys had always had an easier start into the world of employment after Hogwarts. It was a boost. An unspoken recommendation.

Dippet had always chosen students with top grades and little to no detention records. Mostly prefects, but not exclusively. For just a second you wondered if he had thought about you while making his decision. You had good grades. Nonsense, you had great grades. You never got in trouble, you were respectful, reliable, punctual and maybe a tiny bit full of yourself in just this moment. 

What were you thinking? You didn’t have the nerves or the time for being head girl. But it would feel so good to be valued this way.

Dippet cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. 

“This year’s head boy, fellow witches and wizards, is,” he announced blissfully. “Tom Riddle.”

A murmur went round the hall when Tom arose from the table until Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin, applauded for his student and the crowd joined in. Tom went up to the teacher’s table, where Dippet congratulated him.

It was quite clear why Tom was granted this title. He was Dippet’s showpiece. Always had been. Top of the class in most subjects, quiet yet observative, intelligent and he came from a well-respected family. 

“And now to our head girl,” Dippet said. 

No, this couldn’t be. It would feel like some sort of mockery if he would say your name. First the engagement and now this? No, no. Or maybe? You would make a great head girl, now that you thought about it. 

“This year’s head girl is,” Dippet went on.

Tom looked at you. Maybe he knew. Could it be? 

“Freda Morris.”

Oh. Your heart sank more than you liked to admit. Tom’s gaze went right to Freda when the crowd applauded for her. She stood up from the Slytherin table and clumsily walked to the front as well. Freda… What a swot.

“Congratulations you two,” Dippet said and shook both of their hands again. “I’m sure you’ll make a great team.”

Yeah, great. Superb. 

Freda and Tom shook hands as well. A wave of anger burned through your chest when you noticed how awfully sweet she smiled at him. 

“Two Slytherins as head boy and girl. Now that’ll be fun,” Camille said when you walked to your Potions class together. “Totally fair Professor Dippet, as always. Thanks for acknowledging the other houses.”

You smiled. “I know, right? And Freda Morris? What was he thinking?”

“Well, I don’t know. But she seems quite okay, doesn’t she?”

“You think so? She’s such a muppet.”

“Oh,” Camille laughed. “You wanted to be head girl, right?”

“What? No, I…”

“Come on,” she grinned.

“Yeah, maybe. I hadn’t even thought about it until today. And then I thought well, I would make a great head girl. Then Tom got picked.”

“And you thought it was destiny,” she enthused.

“Something like that,” you said and shoved her playfully.

You entered the Potions classroom and went over to the table Camille and you always shared. When you turned around to check where she was, you saw Tom talking to her. Camille nodded to him and then shot you a look. She winked at you and went to another table. Tom walked over and sat down beside you. Oh Merlin.

“Um, hello,” you said, still wondering what he was doing here. 

All it took was Tom raising his brow to make absolutely sure he didn’t like you one bit. He even seemed appalled that you had the nerve to talk to him. Why on earth would he sit next to you then? Alright, no small talk. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Professor Slughorn entered the classroom and started his lesson by congratulating Freda and Tom once more. Your eyes too rolled once more. 

He then instructed everyone to brew Moonseed Poison, just like he had taught you in last week's lesson.

“And as always, help each other out,” he said and sat down at his desk.

Fantastic. You took a gurdyroot and started cutting it into small cubes, making sure not to breathe in right above it, as the fumes would burn your nose.

When you picked the knotgrass, Tom cleared his throat. You resisted looking over to him and kept on picking carefully. He cleared his throat again. And again.

You turned your head. “Are you trying to talk, or are you choking?”

“I…,” his eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one looking at me weirdly when I greet you. So you probably don’t want to talk to me, do you?”

He sighed and started picking knotgrass as well. “I did… want to talk to you.”

“About what?” you asked and rolled the grass to make it cork-shaped.

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of Lestrange and Avery.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and finally looked at him properly.

“They won’t trouble you again. And, if it makes you feel better, they’ve learned their lesson.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked and leant forward to put ten drops of leech juice into your cauldron.

“I punished them.”

You almost dropped the flask. “Punished?” 

“Nothing too bad. Although I think you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Not really,” you grinned. “What did you do?”

“Just excluded them from our group for a little while. Separation is the greatest punishment for the spineless.”

He really was a ruthless leader. And they weren’t his friends. They were his inferiors.

“Wow,” you breathed. “And you did that for me?”

Tom crushed a toadstool and smiled. “I did it for myself. And you. If they disrespect you, they disrespect me. And I can’t let that happen.”

“I see,” you said. “Oh, don’t put the toadstool into your cauldron yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s better to let the leech juice simmer for a little longer.”

“It makes no difference.”

“It does make a difference. And you need to grind it some more. It has to be really fine.”

Tom dropped the toadstool into his cauldron without batting an eye and looked at you provokingly. “I know what I’m doing. I’m good at Potions.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m great at Potions,” you said and watched Tom’s grin dropping with delight.

“I let Slughorn be the judge of that,” he said and you laughed.

Tom stirred his potion while you kept on grinding the toadstool. “Oh, congratulations on becoming head boy, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Were you expecting it?”

“Not quite,” Tom said. “I mean, I have been thinking about it last year and was sure I’d make it to Dippet’s top three. But then I didn’t really think about it until today.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I thought he would make you head girl, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“Only for a moment. But then he said Freda’s name.”

The toadstool was as fine as sand already but you ground it even harder now. “Uh-huh.”

“She’s a git, isn’t she?”

“You think so too?”

Tom chuckled lowly. “As spineless as Avery and inane as Lestrange.”

“At last, we agree on something,” you said and put the toadstool dust into your cauldron. Perhaps hating other people was what you two had in common. “Don’t touch the moonseed. It’ll burn your skin.”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I’m not daft.”

You smiled to yourself as you levitated the poisonous plant into your cauldron.

“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” Tom said after he had done the same. “My uncle sent an owl. Your sister. She’s better.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. Still not cured he said, but she’s gaining weight again and has an appetite.”

“That’s great news,” you said and had to suppress the urge to hug him out of pure joy. “Merlin, I’m so happy right now. Thanks for letting me know.”

Tom stirred his potion and nodded. “It’s ready. Professor!”

Slughorn walked up to your desk and examined both of your cauldrons. “Oh, would you look at that,” he cheered. “Tom, yours is excellent.”

You could tell how proud Riddle was, especially after you had lectured him.

“But yours Miss,” Slughorn turned towards you. “Yours is perfect. Outstanding that one! Very well done.”

Even though you had known yours was better, you were afraid to look over and see Tom’s reaction. He wasn’t one to mess with. When you finally took a glimpse, you noticed him staring blankly down at the table, yet with the tiniest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t say it,” he mumbled. “I get it, you’re great at Potions.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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Patton’s Adventure- Go Around

Summary: now that would be telling wouldn’t it.

Note: AY! I’m back from my break. Sorry about that again! 

This is based on Fluffomatic’s idea of a Tickle Forest, so show some support!!!

The Beginning! --- Logan’s part!

_._._

“C’mon. Let’s be sensible about this. Let’s just go around,” Patton smiled as he started guiding them into the dense grass and bushes to walk around. 

“Ew, when are you actually sensible,” Janus teased but truly he relaxed at that. He followed him without much thought. 

Thankfully, the bears were all crowded in one group. They both stayed low to the ground and kept silent to see if another would walk by. If there was a group, then there may be more. Patton held his hand out to get him to stop. But there were no lumbering footsteps or any rustling. Nothing was coming. The bears were perfectly content to sit in the middle of the path, snuffling about and being generally cute. Patton waved all clear and then kept walking. 

As much as he would much rather they run past the bears so to get past the danger as quickly as possible, Patton knew it would only get them chased down. Janus, regardless of what he said, was clearly tired. 

Tickling always did that to him. If it lasted any longer than a quick swipe or pinch, then Janus would be found napping somewhere nearby afterwards. Patton couldn’t help his curling smile remembering how that was the very best part of tickling Janus. Immediate cuddling followed by taking a small self care nap. There was nothing that could beat that cozy warm feeling. 

Janus hissed without thinking as they were now passing past the bears. Patton looked back at him with a wince. He shushed him as he awkwardly got down to his belly and crawled past the bears. That way they were a little more hidden and maybe they could play dead if they got found? Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best plan but then again it wasn’t like a lot of his plans had succeeded in this adventure. 

They managed to crawl past without any incident. They continued to stalk through the overgrown grass until they could no longer see the bears. Then they excitedly fumbled back on to the path with bewildered looks. 

“There was no way, that actually worked,” Janus gasped.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Patton twirled him around with a giggle, but he did make sure to keep his celebrations quiet. They really didn’t need to alert the bears right now. Janus smiled wide before tugging them down the path. 

It was now setting into the evening. The sun had streaked across the sky and now everything was settling into a muted grey. The path was clearly defined with white flowers that seemed to glow despite the disappearing light. “They look like that motherbloom flower,” Patton pointed out uncertainly. They really did look like perfectly normal flowers and they didn’t react to him kicking at them. But they looked identical to the motherbloom’s flowers. It had to mean something.

Janus frowned as if this was the first time he was seeing them, “Didn’t it say something about that?”

Patton pulled out the sheet that was now very thoroughly crinkled but he pointed out the sentence where it explained that it could turn other flowers, “They’re not attacking us.”

“Well of course they look big enough to do any sort of damage to us.” Janus kicked at the tiny daisy looking flowers with disdain. 

“I wouldn’t under estimate Remus and Roman if I were you,” Patton giggled.

“True. Do you think they could communicate?”

“What do you mean?” Patton frowned but now he felt the very distinct feeling of being watched. 

“If the motherbloom can turn other flowers then what’s stopping them from almost, uh communicating. They could see any weak spots of ours and be able to tell the whole ‘queen’ of this place,” Janus awkwardly spoke, clearly embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

“Huh,” Patton hummed, “Well it might be a little too late to worry about that but then again, we’re the only team who knows about it.”

“Yes, they definitely don’t know about the motherbloom. Virgil was whining about how their sheet didn’t tell them much.” Janus smirked.

“Cheater!” Patton gasped. Janus laughed evilly and walked forward with a smirk. 

They walked through the rest of the way with no distractions. But they both paused when they heard running water. Janus immediately pounced on Patton to wrangle to the map from him, and just ever so slightly tickling him on accident, only on accident of course. The map was very clear that the river was at the very end of their journey. They would have to cross the river and then a short walk until the massive obnoxious ‘X’. 

“What do you think the treasure is?” Patton asked as he walked with a new increased sense of purpose. 

“No clue. But I do suspect that one team will get a treasure from one creativity. For example, our treasure may be made by Roman while Logan’s was made by Remus. I can’t imagine them ever agreeing on what should be a reward.”

“Ooh! That would be fun!” Patton chirped.

Breaking through the woods into the river was immediately satisfying. All this time, it was very hard to keep track of where they were and to feel any sense of progress. But this was definitive progress. They had battled through all these tickles and were getting through this at a decent pace. Even with their little blips, it truly felt like they had made alright time. 

The river was fairly calm and smelled strongly of the sea. Patton jumped down from the soil banks into the expanse of sand banks that lined the river. Childishly kicking the sand up, Patton turned back with a proud grin before pouncing over to a fallen over log. It was immediately soothing. The water wasn’t loud but just enough to be a quiet background noise. 

“If I could propose a plan our great responsible leader,” Janus bowed down to a Patton standing over him on the log.

“Yeah JanJan?”

“You created the rule that we have to sleep a full 8 hours in the adventure so I propose we should create a camp here. I feel like we’ll get wet no matter what when getting through the river so we should sleep now before our clothes get all wet,” Janus reasoned as if the bags under his eyes and droopy sleepy demeaner wasn’t enough of an excuse to sleep. 

Patton jumped down and snapped his fingers. Janus then immediately yelped as he dragged to the floor by a sudden weight on his back. That weight was a camping bag filled with supplies and a sleeping bag. “Oh! Sorry, JanJan!” Patton squeaked.

“You did that on purpose!” Janus said as he grabbed Patton’s hand and pulled him down into the sand too. Patton squawked but got his revenge pretty swiftly by dumping sand in Janus’ hat and plopping it on his head. 

After they finished all of that, Janus stood up to see what would be a good place to sleep and noticed a little hut down the beach. They both jogged up to it only to stop. It was a little shop. A little rundown wooden hut with a bright tacky sign proclaiming Beach Stuff! It was lined with frumpy dad sun hats and inflatables. “Hello there young gentlemen!” The owner cried out with a wide grin.

“Hello there!” Patton answered but Janus stopped them from walking to the shop. 

“We should focus on camping first then tomorrow we can organise if we need to buy anything.”

“Good point. But I feel like we definitely need to use floaties to get across!”

“Hmm, it seems too convenient.” Janus guided them both away to the soil bank again.

They found a small gap in the trees and ferns that was off the sand. It was a small walk to the shop again. It was perfect. 

Patton occupied himself with the dad task of building a fire and starting to heat up some bacon while Janus was the actual responsible one by setting up the tent. If he also summoned an actual bed cover rather than the measly sleeping bag then that was his own business. He rolled his eyes at the neon blue tent and the mustard tent side by side. Of course Patton would summon their colours. 

“What should be our plan? I feel like now we can actually sit down and think about this, we should create a good plan.” Janus wiped his forehead as he slumped down next to Patton. 

“I do think the floaties would be the easiest way. It avoids us going into the water which may contain more tickle loving creatures and we don’t get wet!”

“Why are you so worried about getting wet? You’re literally secretly a giant frog,” Janus deadpanned. 

“Yeah, but you’re not!” Patton responded with a wounded look.

“Well I don’t think we should use the inflatables as it seems too obvious. I’m unfortunately very aware of Remus’ tricks and this screams a trick.” 

“That is true but I don’t see what else should we do? Swimming across just seems like a mistake,” Patton argued, actually using some logic and reasoning.

“We could... uh... maybe the shop has some specialised swim suits! This is a world based on a certain childish activity and so there must be ways they still function. How do divers work in this world!” Patton nodded along but he still frowned.

“We’ll decide in the morning, I think we’re both tired and hungry. Let’s take this one step at a time!”

They ate quickly as Janus was practically falling over asleep into the fire. Settling into the tents and of course saying goodnight, they both snuggled into their blankets. 

Snuggling as they fell asleep, completely unaware of their bug companions they picked up when literally crawling around the grass floor of a tickle world.  

This adventure took: 30 minutes!

Total time taken: 1 hour and 23 minutes!

And there we are!! Time to decide again...

A) Use the floaties B) Use the swimsuits

Oniwaka in the Mountains - Date scenario / fanfiction - PART 1

A slowly inclining path stretched before, as you slowly but methodically marched up. It was the first morning of your long weekend, free from school, with plans you made awhile ago. All of the guild members had similar ones like you: To relax and heal their mind and bodies. That was a direct order you have given as the Guild Master. After forcibly chasing Kengo and Hanuman away from fights and training rooms, you were able to finish packing yourself last night. Zao was your blessing since you mentioned you wanted some peace, he immediately suggested a mountain trek, not a long one, but enough to keep you active and then to help relax your body. The final destination was a lodge halfway to the peak overlooking a valley. Everything was created by world collision but Zao assured you it was perfectly safe with signs, supports and the lodge was well supplied. "It's my sanctuary on occasion and I trust it will be yours, my friend." It was exactly what you needed, especially since the last few weeks had you flustered physically and mentally exhausted.  With the changing seasons, the weather was warmer, thanks to the world collision you could experience spring and autumn at the same time, climbing the stone stairs and passing under bright orange torii's marking another milestone on the path. Even it being early morning, the sun was already high, with no breeze, the days before you were expected to be warm and pleasant. There was an odd sweet fragrance in the air, something fruity or woody, very familiar yet distanced. You thought it's probably the mountainous flowers that were plentiful at this time of the year, together with the petrichor from last night's rain. Soon the stone steps were enveloped by a forest of young, bright green foliage. With the wind gently swaying the tree branches, and birds singing between each other. When you passed the lush greenery it turned slowly into a valley clearing covered by grass and shrubs. The odd perfume kept following you, and then you heard a branch snap ever so quietly. Without stopping you grabbed your sword and turned around skilfully on the heel to face whatever was following you. Or who. "Shhhees calm it down, right?!" Oniwaka waved his hand barely having the time to touch his weapon. Your sword was less than a few inches away from his flustered face. He looked rough like he didn't sleep well for a few days, with drips of sweat on his forehead and a bad case of being unshaved. He slowly reached out his hand like he was trying to calm an animal. "It's ok... It's only me, yeah?" He said but you didn't lower the sword even an inch. "What are you doing here." You ask with a mumbling voice, feeling your face getting red. Oniwaka looked at you confused, but his body was tense with the other hand softly touching the polearm artefact. "What do you mean, what am I doing here, have you got your head? I'm here to make sure you are safe. You are climbing a mountain by yourself. You have zero self-preservation! Someone needs to take care of you." He grumbles looking at the same way he always would, that slightly challenging manner, there is a tease in his eyes, a taunt. "Really?! Now? After three weeks?!" You cry out angry. Oniwaka took a step back shocked. "What the hell are you-!?" "Three weeks! Three long weeks! Messaging you! Calling! Worrying sick something may have happened to you with zero response! " Oniwaka's bewildered expression feels like someone is adding olive to fire for you. The last weeks were tormenting for your heart and soul, after spending so much time together with Oniwaka, laughing together and arguing, even finally kissing and seeing his softer side he suddenly decided to disappear. No words of explanation at all. You sent him messages, you tried calling, nothing, even Lil' Salomon wasn't able to help you. You couldn't go to his place because you didn't know where he lived. There were evenings and nights you felt extremely bad, Zao was one of the people who noticed and suggested this excursion. Of course in a vain pathetic attempt, you sent one last message to Oniwaka asking if he is ok and if he wants to join you. But the App showed none of them were read. "Have I said or done something wrong?! I know... I know I can be an annoying, overbearing brat sometimes but I need to know. " You finally drop your sword exhausted from the whole situation, trying not to show any other signs of frustration and emotions than a flaming red face. "What... What are you... -!" Oniwaka started mumbling, only to stop and with a weird nervousness reach to his phone. "There was nothing... Nothing?!" He kept mumbling to himself. His huge hands gently trying to operate the battered device with visible scratches. His fingers in panic opening the app. "There is nothing here..." You hear his voice again. Then it stops suddenly. "What do you mean error?! Refreshing?!" But you are already angry and sad and tired and turn around and trying to calm down your breath walking. "Just walk you, idiot." Keeps pounding in your head. Oniwaka looked at you walking away in panic and then back at his phone that just finished refreshing after the error in the app. His heart sunk as deep as it could when the screen showed multiple missed phone calls through the app and even more unread messages. First, they were simply sweet nothings like I miss you, How are you handsome, then to change into Are you ok? I'm worried. Please call me. I'm really worried I can't sleep. Until the last message being an invitation to the mountains. But the words seemed almost lifeless. Immediate Oniwaka remembered because he would sneak to the school to check up on you, seeing you cry and getting angry on whoever has done that. He thought the silence was because something was wrong and you needed time. Only now to realize nothing was wrong, that every time he saw you upset, angry or crying it was his fault. The one person who he promised to protect and wouldn't make him cry. And he has, within the first week after his promise because of his own stupid, stupid thick Oni jarhead. Thinking everything is going to be well by itself somehow. Oniwaka in an angry determined panic slipt the phone back in his pocket and run to you, jumping straight in front of your body. His hand immediately reaching for your shoulder to stop you. But you didn't want to look at him because there was something in your eye and... "I am... I am sorry!" He cried out with a cracking voice. Only to immediately drop down to his knees with a sigh and envelop your waist with his huge arms. This huge Oni was so tall that his head was burrowed in your chest. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I'm an idiot! Worthless, stupid, arrogant idiot! My lord! My... My... My beloved." You can hear Oniwaka mumble the same words, the same plea over and over. Because of his tight grip, you can't move even if you wanted, and the material of your t-shirt stared getting wet as the Oni started crying. It took you more than a few minutes of mixed emotions and shock to move your hands, slowly inch by inch unsure what to do. It was such a shock to see this always angry and arrogant villain Oni attempting to be good, in tears and on his knees. Not spouting something with a double meaning for you to guess. You gently placed your hands on his shoulders feeling Oniwaka twitch under your touch, his muscles getting tense. Taking his hood off, gently playing with his hair and then slowly leaning towards his head and kissing it. Your heart was beating like mad all this time and you felt short of breath. But you suddenly the mountain in front of you got up from his knees and immediately reached to your lips. Oniwaka's hands enveloped your back and held your head. His lips felt dry and rough mixed with the saltiness of his tears, but there were so much heat and passion coming from him you suddenly felt dizzy. He pulls away only for a moment looking at you. "Please forgive me, my beloved lord. I...am so stupid. I... I will do anything." Only to reach back for your lips. You can feel your own eyes burning when that horrible itch you had finally came out. "You... You idiot...you need to stop crying!" He said under his breath not sure if he was talking about you or himself... When you two finally pull away from each other many minutes later his hands are still holding you as if he were afraid you would disappear once he does. You can see he didn't shave at all today and yesterday and slowly touch his rough jaw. Oniwaka leans his face into your hand for a moment only to be interrupted by a loud hungry grumble. "I... Am sorry... I didn't eat anything today. I got up early to catch you in time. You still managed to leave way ahead of your schedule." Oniwaka drops down his head ashamed. "You were trying to catch me in time?" You rephrase his words into a question surprised. He immediately flashes you a cocky grin. "Yes, I meet your friend, the weird one who climbs mountains." "Zao." "Yea, him. He told me everything about your mountain trip." "Why would he-?" You start confused. "Listen... Please, let me spend this time with you... I know I'm an idiot and you probably hate me... I'm worthless even being a bodyguard or anything else.. " "Oniwaka Houzouin, please shut up!" You burst suddenly. "But!" You aren't having any of his protests and before he even manages to slip a word. "I asked you in the first place to join me. Remember?" Oniwaka shifts his weight moving from one leg to another making his typical unsure face, squinting both eyes. He saw it but was unsure how to even start the conversation, how to admit to just being afraid and hoping things will just happen by themselves. "But since you caused me headache... I'm ordering you. Not asking, ordering." You finally say. Oniwaka laughed nervously moving away from you, releasing his hands. "You are ordering me to come to the mountains with you?" "No, I'm ordering you to spend the next few days with me alone and try to make amends." Oniwaka tried to put on his angry and challenging face only to be interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach which made you laugh. "Sorry... I need to grab something to eat. Somewhere." He sighed in a deep voice thinking out loud. To his surprise, you grabbed his hand and said. "Come, let's discuss the terms of your defeat over a breakfast. I made food before I left this morning." Oniwaka squeezed your hand pulling you off the path to a set of large stones. "You made food for me?" "Zao told me he saw you... I was hoping you will come..." You sit down on a larger stone and placing your backpack between your legs, you look within. Oniwaka sits down too, piercing you with a curious gaze, setting his polearm aside. "What? Zao is very curious and cautious. If something doesn't sit right with him he will tell me straight away." After a few long seconds, you present to him in your hands a bento box with his name written on the cover. The Oni smiles slightly trying to hide it by clenching his jaws and opens the box. Inside there is a various mix of foods with rice balls shaped into fluffy animals resembling those that Oniwaka collects as keychains. You are pretty sure you heard him grumble something that sounded like "I'm not a child" followed by "This is too cute to eat". But all of that was silenced by the sounds of happy scoffing coming from the Oni. Seeing how fast he ate the contents of his box he must have been starving. "This was... good! Thank you!" He gave you back the empty box, stretching his body after eating. He smiled for a moment only to look directly into your eyes after a second. "You don't need to make a special effort for me, you know that. I'm enough trouble as it is. I am the one who needs to look after you." You consider his words for a second and clean a bit of rice from his chin with your hand, replying. "Yes, but you are my trouble." Oniwaka immediately blushes and averts your gaze. With so many battles and things happening you learned forgiveness was always one of your most important strengths, but not stupid blind forgiveness, no. You would learn from your mistakes, thinking about what you could do better. Every time, therefore right now you didn't trouble your head with how and why, no you wanted to make the best of the time both of you would spend together. "Ugh... You are so stubborn..." You then took out a jar of something dark brown from your backpack. "Do you want to try something that I and Choji made in the kitchen? I'm particularly proud of this one." Oniwaka lifts his brow studying you for a second and nods without a word. The Oni takes a spoon from you and scoops a bit of the dark buttery muss. As he does it you keep talking. "I saw this show on an old foreign channel and they made fruit butter. So we did plum, apple and pear with some winter spices and i..." You stop seeing Oniwaka throw away the spoon and stick his two fingers into the jar greedily. By the time you managed to get the jar back of him more than half of the fruit butter was gone. "You need to keep stuff like that away from me. It's deadly" You laughed at him while he continues to lick his fingers with a pleased grin. Half of his face was now covered by sticky fruit residue. Handing him a damp tissue you said. "As your punishment, I would like you to spend the next few days with me. Probably alone. Not using any forms of violence." You add casualty while packing the dishes into your bag, then handing Oniwaka a small bottle of water. There was a strange expression on his face, one you saw only a few times - a mix of determination and embarrassment. He reached out for the bottle touching your hand. "I made my promise to protect you and be your shield, and I've messed up. I need to man up and take responsibility. I will be there for every minute. Also, you have no self-preservation instinct, and who knows what evil could carry you away into the forest. There is so many wild Oni running around with bad intentions. Those monsters can mess you up pretty bad if you aren’t careful. " Oniwaka gets up and extends his arm. "Take my hand and don't let go until we get there." Your cheeks turn slightly pink. It's a long 5-mile walk, that's a lot of hand-holding especially for this stubborn Oni who is always shy of public displays of anything but aggression. "It's only to keep you safe and protected." He grins slightly turning his head away as you two cut through the grass back to the path.

Something Good, Part Seven

So I was going to edit and revise, but my house is full of flies and I’ve spent most of the night trying to murder them.

This is the best I could do.

In which Wei Wuxian gets yanked around like a fish on a hook.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

---

Wei Wuxian always gets a little cocky after a month of anything. A month into life at Lotus Pier he talked back to Madam Yu for the first time and met the back of her hand. He may have started getting in trouble on his first day of indoctrination at Cloud Recesses, but after the first month he really started his campaign to bother Lan Wangji into giving him a decent fight. Or at least a minute of his time. 

So he recognizes this pattern as he sits among the rabbits, watching the disciples roll around in the grass and play fight with crooked little sticks. The children all wear white, every day. As an aesthetic choice, it’s quite striking—it also appears to give some validity to Su Ming’s claim that misbehaving Lans are turned into rabbits. But as a practical choice, it leaves Wei Wuxian up nearly every night scrubbing out grass and mud and tea and berry stains.

He lets his idea percolate for a bit before acting on it, watching Madam Xiao carefully every time she measures a quickly-growing junior for a new set of robes. 

On a sunny afternoon the youngest juniors—those under ten—are held back by Lan Wangji for a lesson in sect and clan history. Wen Ning tells him it’s a regular occurrence, certain lessons and stories that the older ones heard back when multiple teachers covered different material. It feels private, Lan-Sect-only, so Wei Wuxian takes the older six fishing in the river. 

“Your poor Wei-qianbei never gets to hear secret Lan stories,” he whines as they scramble down the hillside towards the water. The juniors tumble over each other to tell their favorite stories in a fragmented rush—this Lan elder who invented a new path of healing, that student who famously saved a young Lan Qiren from a fierce ghost, litanies of born and adopted cultivators to make one’s head spin. He always enjoys the children’s enthusiasm, but part of him regrets missing Lan Wangji’s calm and steady storytelling. He imagines him sitting down on the floor with the children gathered around him, elegant hands gesturing just enough to clarify, no movements wasted. His patient nod as little Jingyi bounces on his heels to ask a question—not a smile on his face, per se, but not a frown either.

He’s interrupted from his ill-advised reverie by a giant splash as Su Ming slips and falls face first into the water. 

“A-Ming! For heaven’s sake, I’m trying to teach you to fish! Please do not scare every living creature away right at the beginning.” 

He makes them stand knee-deep in the water, still as they can, until the fish return. With all eyes on him, he manages to grab a carp on the first try. Still got it, he thinks to himself, preening for the applause around him.

Remember when it was swordplay that brought you praise? Your incredible skill, your shining golden core?

But the cheers of little ones is the best he’ll get now. And it’s enough. It is. It’s enough.

If a ritual doesn’t take the first time, repeat it.

Wen Ning, kind heart that he is, has placed himself on the shoreline to collect caught fish in gathered-up skirts of his robe. As the others dive and wait and dive again, Wei Wuxian watches him solemnly wrap the wriggling fish in cloth, holding each firmly but gently in his hands until they stop moving. His face is set, lips pulled in, and he nods to himself after each death, setting the fish aside in a delicate row on the shore. Wei Wuxian wants to wade over and hold him, pet his hair and tell him it’s all right, death is hard, but he recognizes the moment of growing and lets it happen.

All in all, they end up with eight fish. Five may have been from Wei Wuxian himself, but he praises the juniors at length as they shake off their feet and try to find their own shoes. Su Ming, as always, is precariously balanced on a rock and engaged in a shoving match with Lan Ting. He’s about to fall, and Wei Wuxian has a flash of the walk back to class with his wet, squelching shoes, so he reaches out and grabs him by the neck of his robes, nearly wrenched off his feet himself. Everyone laughs uproariously and Su Ming apologizes in a mumble, Wei Wuxian tugging on his hair and clicking his tongue in admonishment.

It’s not until they get back to the main compound that Wei Wuxian notices the pain in his shoulder and neck from yanking Su Ming out of danger. He sends the children to clean up for dinner under the direction of Wen Ning and heads to the kitchen to do something with the fish. Gutting and cleaning fish is second nature, and he tosses chunks of meat into a pan and hopes for the best.

He’s glad he’s not the primary cook for the juniors. It’s shameful that he’s so haphazard in the kitchen, given that he’d grown up watching Yanli, so tidy and deliberate, every action perfectly timed. He’d stopped watching after a while, around when he was thirteen. Madam Yu hated her behaving like a servant, so she’d get word from her little spies and swoop in in a swirl of purple and crackling energy to berate them both. It was always Wei Wuxian’s fault, in the end, as most things were. But no matter how much blame he accepted, demanded, it was never enough to make her leave Yanli alone. Eventually, he just stopped going to the kitchens at all. Had he known what was going to happen, that the last time eating lotus root and pork soup would truly be his last time, he would have gone back and watched her, he’d have written down every step and asked her to explain each technique, let him taste every ingredient as she added them. But there’s no use wishing for things already past.

He does grin to himself as he remembers her working, tiny and delicate but steadfast, while Madam Yu scolded and paced and Zidian crackled around her. She never left a dish unfinished. Perhaps he did learn more from watching her than he thought. Maybe she’ll be proud of me. Maybe someday.

He shakes the fish around in the pan, throwing in a dozen odd dashes of chili oil, and grunts out in pain as a spasm goes down his neck to his shoulder. He drops the pan down with more force than intended, grabbing at the muscle and twisting his head around, seeking relief.

“Wei Wuxian.”

Startling and whipping around certainly doesn’t help with the pain, so he faces Lan Wangji with an unpleasant grimace. The bow he makes is sincere but crooked, and when he looks back up, Lan Wangji has come closer, brow furrowed.

“Why are you cooking?”

“The older children caught fish. Well, they tried. So I said I’d cook it up for them. Well, I said I’d try.”

“The fish is sticking to the pan.”

“Damn it!” Wei Wuxian spins back around to take the pan off the heat, but freezes midway to jerk back around and bow. “My apologies, Second Master.”

“You’ve injured your shoulder.” It’s not a question.

Wei Wuxian rolls his neck again. “Just a bit. One of the children fell and I should have used two hands to grab him. I forget sometimes, how slow I am to heal without a golden—” He bites the inside of his cheek, looking down at his hands. “Pardon me, Hanguang Jun.”

He turns back to the fish and takes the pan off the heat, hacking at the chunks of skin that have adhered to the surface. He assumes Lan Wangji has left, but after less than a minute he feels an unexpected hand on his injured shoulder. He reaches back and strikes out with the wooden spatula, nearly missing the side of Lan Wangji’s face. 

“What are you doing?” he gasps. He doesn’t think Lan Wangji would attack him in the kitchens, but it hasn’t been so long since we was hunted by all the clans together. Is that why he’s here? My sentence has changed?

Lan Wangji glares at him. “Helping.”

“Helping what?”

“Your shoulder. Turn around.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him and does not move. Lan Wangji sighs, sounding so much like his uncle, and pulls Wei Wuxian back around. He’s beginning to feel dizzy. Before he can open his mouth to protest, one big hand covers the side of his head and presses it to the side while the other digs into his pulled muscle. Instead of yelling “What are you doing?” again, he can only make a loud choking sound and clap his hands over his mouth.

“Stop. Moving.” Lan Wangji demands, so Wei Wuxian folds his hands primly at his waist and waits for whatever it is to be over.

Lan Wangji’s hands are not just warm, they’re hot, and not just long but big, broad across the knuckles and palms. Wei Wuxian hasn’t really noticed this before, but he certainly does now. First Lan Wangji pinches the muscle hard between thumb and forefinger, sliding his hand down from the base of his skull to his shoulder. After about a minute of this he works his knuckles in, rolling them as he goes. It hurts, more than he expects it to, but underneath the pain is a deep relief. The massage stops suddenly, and Wei Wuxian is just about to turn around when he hears an impatient tsk sound from behind him. It’s his only warning before Lan Wangji tugs his robe over his shoulder, baring his skin.

“Lan Wangji!”

“Wei Wuxian. Stand still.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help the nervous giggle that bursts out as the massage continues. “You know,” he begins, while his brain very loudly tells him Stop this right now, Wei Wuxian, don’t say anything more. “You should just call me Wei Ying.”

The massage stops for a moment, then resumes. 

“That would not be appropriate,” Lan Wangji says stiffly.

Wei Wuxian laughs louder. He’s starting to feel a little drunk as Lan Wangji’s hands move to the back of his neck and lower down to his shoulder blade. “That’s inappropriate. I see.”

“Hm.”

“But I am a servant, you know. There’s no reason for me to have a courtesy name.”

The hands pause again.

“Not just a servant.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. “Well, no. None of us are. None of us are just servants.”

Lan Wangji says nothing and tugs the robe back into place. He doesn’t let go, though, big hands radiating warmth into him through the fabric. There’s a long moment of held breath and the smell of burnt fish.

“Wangji,” a voice comes from the doorway, and Wei Wuxian feels him step back. He feels better than he did, but oddly cold.

“Brother.” 

Lan Xichen inclines his head politely as he steps inside the kitchen. “I apologize, am I interrupting?”

Wei Wuxian turns and bows, trying to assemble a polite smile. He thinks it’s coming off a bit manic. “Not at all, Sect Leader. Hanguang Jun was graciously helping this humble servant with a pulled muscle. Thank you, Hanguang Jun.” He bows again.

“Ah, the new techniques you learned?” 

Lan Wangji’s ears turn pink, but he nods, looking away from Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is fascinated. Like a kid watching a new game, he has to stamp down on the loud internal I want to do that. How do I do that?

“See, Wangji, there is no need to worry. She will be glad to hear you’ve practiced. You will make a fine husband.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t drop anything, but only because he’s not holding anything. He’s sure his jaw is somewhere around his belt but there’s nothing to be done about that. Lan Xichen, ever the noble, doesn’t comment on it. 

“Wei Wuxian, I was looking for you.” 

Somehow this afternoon in the kitchen has become like a drunken dream, pulling him from the warmth of pleasure and comfort into terrifying waves where nothing makes sense. It’s not a reassignment, he tells himself, but his stomach still sinks to his knees. There’s a smear of chili oil on his left wrist, curving around and disappearing under his sleeve like blood.

“What can I do for you, Sect Leader?”

“I wanted to check in on the children. I know that the incident with the water ghouls was frightening for them, particularly the younger ones.”

Wei Wuxian laughs nervously. “Yes, we were lucky Hanguang Jun is so quick.”

Lan Wangji still doesn’t look at him. 

Husband. A fine husband. Stop it.

“How are they holding up?”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip. Lan Xichen has always had a quality that inspired complete honesty, but the last thing he wants is to accidentally talk himself back to laundry duty. “Some nightmares. A little nervousness walking by Cold Spring, for the younger ones, but we’ve talked about where the ghouls live and how the Abyss is formed. They’re pretty resilient.”

“But do they feel safe? Here, I mean?”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “In Cloud Recesses? Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t they?”

“After the ambush, things were a bit chaotic. And they haven’t had a guardian for this long in, well, a number of years now. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the older children expect you to leave.”

Lan Wangji’s head snaps up, looking between the two of them.

“Leave?” Wei Wuxian spreads his hands, aiming for casual. “But where would I go?”

Lan Xichen smiles at him. “Indeed. Thank you for this update, it is helpful for me to know how the children are feeling. Wangji, if you are finished here, I would speak with you further.”

As they turn to leave, Lan Xichen pauses in the doorway. “By the way, how did you do what you did with the talismans?”

“Sorry?”

“At the lake. Your talismans were stronger than any I’ve seen created by a non-cultivator, but I did not sense any resentful energy when you used them.”

Wei Wuxian feels another set of eyes on him, strong and burning like his hands, but he doesn’t turn to look. He tries a shrug. “It’s not too difficult. Just a little extra blood, extra intention characters. We common men do the best we can.”

Lan Wangji leaves the kitchen without another word, and Lan Xichen gives him an odd smile before he follows.

Wei Wuxian finds a stool and collapses on it, wiping his sweating palms over and over on his thighs. The chili oil smears down in a sin-bright line. He’s about to rise and figure out what to do with burnt fish when a teetering pile of midnight blue fabric stumbles past the door. 

He manages to catch the pile before it falls entirely and catches a glimpse of Lin Biming beneath it, red-faced and panting.

“Master Lin! Here, let me help you.”

“Wei Wuxian, what are you doing in the kitchen?”

“Why is everyone so shocked? Here, Master Lin, what is all this?”

“New curtains are going in to the library pavilion, so I’m taking these old ones to—”

“Can I take them?”

Lin Biming glares at him, but the top half of the pile slides directly into Wei Wuxian’s arms.

“Please? Unless they have some important place to be.”

Lin Biming sighs and dumps the rest at his feet. “Fine. Take them. What’s burning?”

Wei Wuxian sighs and hauls the curtains into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, Master Lin. I’ll clean it all up.”

 Lin Biming tuts and bustles off, leaving Wei Wuxian with a pile of dusty, discolored fabric, a pan of half-burnt fish, and the hole in his gut churning like a storm.

Part Eight

<< Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 2

For the first time in a long time, Stoneheart walked in silence.

His ears twitched. He was used to the sound of Nightpaw and Crowpaw’s latest argument, or Mistyfoot and Stormfur chatting in hushed tones, or Shadepaw talking with Feathertail about an herb she saw and what it might do. The empty air seemed to amplify everything around him, from birdsong in the trees to the roar of a Twoleg monster as it woke somewhere in the distance.

Stoneheart couldn’t help but chide himself for leaving the others so suddenly. It’s not like I don’t love them! He thought, leaping over a stray branch that had fallen long ago. I’m just no good at good-byes.

He paused, lifting his head. There was a Twoleg nest here, he knew – an old one with a pair of elderly Twolegs. They didn’t bother cats much, but they certainly didn’t like it when ShadowClan patrols snooped for mice in their old barn. He could see the structure not far away, and the thin, spindly fence that surrounded the Twolegs’ territory.

Best avoid it, he told himself. After trekking through a winding Twolegplace for days and coming back to seeing what they’d done to the land he called home, he was quite sick of Twolegs. I miss Purdy, though, he reflected as he trod on towards the woods ahead. He seemed to know so much about why Twolegs are the way they are...

Sunhigh was gone by the time that Stoneheart reached the trees, and, as he passed a familiar rotten log, he scented ShadowClan. He paused to let the smell wash over him. It's so different now. Sharper. His journey with cats from all four Clans had muddled his senses, mixing their scents together into something new, something that was surprisingly comforting.

He tried to identify the patrol that had passed this way. Breathing in deep, he was happy that he recognized both their scents: Skipnose, that kittypet-turned-warrior, and Oakfur, he thought, lifting his chin. Smokepaw might have been with them, but he didn’t place a marker. They must have passed by before dawn.

Satisfied, Stoneheart went on, quickly identifying the trail his Clanmates had used through the vibrant marsh grass and putting himself on it, wary of his Clanmates lurking about. No cat was better than ShadowClan at blending into their surroundings, and Stoneheart would certainly be embarrassed if he were ambushed.

Traveling further into the woods, Stoneheart could feel leaf-fall's chill in the air. The trees here, more oak and birch than pine, were shedding their golden leaves onto the marsh around them. Stoneheart’s paws tugged him off the beaten path and further into the grove.

His pelt prickled in this familiar location, and he let his paws guide him to a small clearing between the trees. A fallen log and an old, gnarled boulder were surrounded by bright, five-petaled orange flowers – what ShadowClan medicine cats for ages called the blazing star.

Carefully, Stoneheart picked his way around the herb. Many ShadowClan cats believed that stepping on one meant disaster, as the herb had saved all four Clans seasons beyond counting ago. It was a point of pride that they only grew here, on ShadowClan land.

Stoneheart hopped on top of the boulder, relishing what little warmth it had managed to soak up from the sun. He breathed in the scents of the grove, his body relaxing. Though he had left ThunderClan for ShadowClan, this place reminded him of where he’d been born, with the thick cover of leaves and the smells of bracken and fern.

This is where I asked Rowanclaw to be my mate, he reflected, scanning the grove. Where he told me he wanted kits... and where Mistyfoot asked me to leave ShadowClan to go on the journey.

He sighed. And it’s going to be destroyed.

Stoneheart felt claws pierce his heart at the thought. So much that was so important to him would never be, could never be, again. Would this be the last time he laid eyes on this grove? Did the lake have anything like this?

His stomach rumbled, interrupting his thoughts. He hadn’t eaten since the leftovers the journeying cats had polished off at dawn. Stoneheart recalled the way Webfoot and Weaselpaw looked, and worried – did ShadowClan look the same?

I can barely hear Twoleg monsters, but there are some on our territory, he thought, listening. It seemed like the noises were on the far end of ShadowClan land, towards the woods by the Twolegplace they called the Black Fens. Maybe we’re better off than the others.

He heard the brambles rustle behind him. Stoneheart turned and spotted a dove picking its way along the ground, oblivious to his existence, as most doves were. Stomach growling again, Stoneheart dropped into a crouch.

The kill came easily – doves were simple-minded prey. But as he lifted his head from his fresh-kill, there was a screech of defiance and a blur of fur. Stoneheart was knocked off of his paws before he could react.

“Thief!” cried his attacker. “That’s ShadowClan prey!”

Stoneheart felt claws pricking his pelt. “I am ShadowClan!” he complained, twisting beneath his foe. His hind paws found their belly and, with a push, shoved them off of him. Stoneheart could hear them scrambling to their paws, but he was faster.

“Redpaw, it’s me!” he called to the ginger she-cat.

The apprentice paused, her posture an awkward mix of anger and shock. Slowly, though, her spine relaxed. “Stoneheart?” she murmured, whiskers twitching. “Is that... really you?”

“Yes!” Stoneheart breathed, his heart lifting. She’s not so skinny as the WindClan cats, he thought, looking her over. But she is still thin. He looked into the sparse undergrowth that surrounded them. “Where’s Pansytail?”

“Right here.” Redpaw’s mentor appeared, as if Stoneheart had called her. Pansytail’s dappled pelt blended in almost perfectly with the leaves on the ground. Her green eyes regarded Stoneheart with a caution that mirrored Webfoot’s. “Hello, Stoneheart.”

Another shape padded out from the shadows. “What’s going on?” asked a young dark brown tabby tom, his eyes darting from side to side. “Is it Twolegs? Another Clan?”

“Talonpaw?” Stoneheart tipped his head. “Is that you?”

“It’s Talonstripe now,” he said, lifting his head. He didn’t seem fussed that Stoneheart had reappeared right in front of him. “Russetstar made me a warrior a quarter-moon ago!”

“Congratulations!” Stoneheart felt light as he looked over his Clanmates. Clearly, he was receiving a better welcome than poor Crowpaw had!

“Where have you been?” Redpaw asked. She stepped forward and took a cautious sniff. “You smell funny.”

Talonstripe flicked his tail. “And you look fat,” he grunted, tipping his head towards Stoneheart’s side.

Stoneheart rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been to any Twolegs, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He turned to Pansytail, who he assumed was the leader of their patrol. “I need to speak to Russetstar.”

Pansytail was not regarding him with the same curiosity as the younger cats. There was something in her eyes, but whenever Stoneheart tried to meet her gaze, she looked away. Finally, she turned about and, with a flick of her dappled tail, she ordered, “Come.”

Redpaw and Talonstripe took a position alongside him as Pansytail led the way back along the trail. Stoneheart felt a prickle of discomfort run down his spine as he picked up his dove. Was he being escorted home as a Clanmate? Or as a possible enemy?

———————————————————

The trek through the pine woods was quiet, and Stoneheart was thankful for the dove in his mouth – it kept Redpaw or Talonstripe from asking questions he couldn’t easily answer with a nod. To his delight, most of the marshes were unchanged by the Twoleg invasion, though he couldn’t help but notice that Pansytail was taking a longer route to get back to camp.

We should be cutting through the Black Fens, he thought, glancing to his right. But we’re heading up towards Carrionplace instead. The path that they were walking on wasn’t as well-worn as most other hunting trails, meaning that it was just beginning to see constant use. Straining his ears, he could hear the rumble of Twoleg monsters coming from the direction he figured that they should be going. Have they begun destroying that part of our territory?

The dove in his mouth weighed heavy as he plodded on. Though it stopped him from answering questions, it kept him from asking them, too.  

Stoneheart pushed his worries out of his mind for just a moment, letting himself enjoy the feel of being home again – the way the ground squished beneath his paws, the rustle of the pines and the crackle of their needles... even the little stinky mushrooms that bloomed over the rotted old fallen trees. He had missed it all so much!

Pansytail pulled them off of their current path as soon as Carrionplace came into view. The stench of crow-food and Twoleg rubbish wasn’t overpowering yet, but Stoneheart still wrinkled his nose regardless. That’s one part of our territory I won’t miss! He thought. Carrionplace, and the nasty rats within, had always been nothing but trouble for ShadowClan – a source of food that all too often came with a deadly price.

The patrol was following a familiar trail again, this one picking its way between boggy ponds and thick bunches of sedge and swamp grass. The smells of chervil, sweet pye, and mint were strong here, and he scented Littlecloud beneath it all – this was his favorite spot for gathering herbs.  

Ahead, a sedge bush rustled violently. Pansytail lifted her tail and the patrol halted behind her. Stoneheart looked over the shorter warrior, wondering what could be up ahead – another patrol, possibly? His heart ached as the anticipation of seeing his Clanmates again was stronger than he realized.

It was a rabbit, however, that shot out of the bush. It lolloped across the bog, its white tail up. If it saw the cats, it gave no indication... and if the patrol was going to go after it, Pansytail gave no signal.

Why not? Stoneheart was confused. The rabbit was plump, and easy prey in the sticky, wet soil, yet none of the cats surrounding him seemed at all interested in going after it despite the faint outline of their ribs poking through their pelts.

As soon as the rabbit was gone, Pansytail picked up the pace again. Stoneheart adjusted his grip on his dove, still confused.  

“The Twolegs have poisoned the rabbits,” Talonstripe explained, glancing Stoneheart’s way. “They make cats sick to eat, and most who’ve eaten one have died.”

A weight dropped in Stoneheart’s belly, sudden and hard. No wonder the WindClan cats were so skinny! He thought, the fur along his spine prickling with horror. His mind immediately turned to Crowpaw, and how the brash apprentice might take the news. How are they surviving at all right now?

“We haven't lost anyone,” Pansytail assured, glancing back, “but the other Clans have. Thankfully they were able to warn us before we got to eating any rabbits on the fresh-kill pile.”

Stoneheart breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t quell the discomfort he felt at the thought of Twolegs poisoning the very prey that the Clan cats lived off of. First rabbits, what next? The dove in his mouth suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing anymore.

Soon enough, Stoneheart realized that they were closing in on the ShadowClan camp. He took in the familiar pines standing tall over an outer wall of bushes prickly enough to keep away any predator that got too curious. Stoneheart could hear the babble of the stream that ran through camp, a part of the river that tapered off into the marshes like a cat’s tail.

His heart soared. It was still there – still whole and undamaged, nestled deep in the heart of the marshland. The smell of ShadowClan surrounded him, pulling his paws onward.

I’m home.

He had to stop himself before he got too carried away. Like in the star flower grove, he had to remember that the Twoleg monsters would come chugging for this place – sooner rather than later. This place that he called home would be gone.

“Nervous?” Redpaw wondered.

Stoneheart swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, and not just because of the dove in his jaws. Redpaw looked confused that a ShadowClan cat would be so worried about returning home. She didn’t know – she didn’t understand.

He pushed past the apprentice, catching up to Pansytail as she ducked beneath the sedge-and-fern tunnel that led into the camp.

I’m home, he thought as he stepped into the clearing, but this place won’t be home for long.

The marriage pact - Baby talk

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 13 | Part 14 Baby talk | Part 15 >

Disclaimer: reference to doing the naughty 🤭

Author’s note: Since I’m both on a wild writing spree and quite terrible at fixing my own grammatical errors / checking on word flow..do I maybe, just maybe, have some fic-readers on here who’d like to proof read my material before I post it? Anyone? There’s some 10-ish chapters left on this story, in case you wish to know how much work that’d be. Greetings from my writing nook! 🤓❤️

Word count: 1.349

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

It is a time of many new beginnings, including the start of a search for a place of my own.

“Why move?” You may due-fully ask, to which I’ll answer; “Well, I need some darn privacy, okay?!”

Now, please do know that I definitely do not wish to nag. In fact my current living arrangement isn’t half as bad as I first presumed it would be. My parents are adorable people and my room hadn’t changed a bit since I left; and it sure is comfortable. Besides, it’s rather nice to have family around and be in a house full with life and laughter, the kitchen always smelling of freshly baked cakes and cookies, the living room buzzing with my dad’s classic rock.

But, being 37 and having a decent paying job and cares and wishes of my own, it simply is time for me to spread my wings and rebuild a life elsewhere. Which, once again, appears to be more difficult than I wished it to be, because apparently nice apartments are sparse on the Channel Islands.

Do you want more than a tiny shack which barely fits your bed and a dining table for four? Then you better have a fat check book or a whole lotta luck.

So yes, in my case; luck it is. Would you cross some fingers for me again?

Much appreciated,

Ali

‘Ooodoo-doo-doo.’ I cooed, squishing Kal’s furry cheeks between my grabby hands, the dog happily wagging his tail as Henry took the moment to clip a leash onto the Akita’s sturdy collar.

‘Going for a walk!’ Henry yelled into the back of the house, his parents probably enjoying some elevenses on the back porch, the grand seaside house quiet. Henry shrugged as no response came, his smiling face beaming at me. ‘Alright then, let’s go.’

Kal barked in excitement, jumping on all fours as I pulled open the front door, the morning breeze welcoming us with hot restless licks. Like it had become near custom, I would hook my hand around Henry’s arm, our footfalls perfectly in tune as we walked down the road, our eyes aimlessly wandering over the silver blue waves. It was nice like this. Simple, but nice.

‘Did you tell your parents about your plans to move yet?’ Henry asked, his voice near lost in the seaside wind that slapped us in the face - the beach was getting nearer.

‘Not really. You know how my mom is; she can get a bit overdramatic.’ I smiled, seeing the beach was quite busy this morning. Many children running cheerfully through the surf of the sea, their feet followed by equally cheerful women waddling with large, rounded bellies, promising even more to come. More children. More happy feet trailing through the wet sand.

Thankfully I wasn’t alone in my quiet stares, Henry squeezing my hand even closer to his chest, offering me a silent but affirmative; “I know, Ali, I can see it too.”

I sighed quietly and tugged on Henry’s arm, leading us down the sandy dunes until we reached a wood logged path, offering us some steady footing instead of having to work our way through the muggy sand. 

Kal happily sniffed around, making our pace far slower as we waited up for the dog every other step or so. ‘So how are you today?’ I asked, looking at Henry as he focused on Kal sniffing through some long dune grass. He clicked his tongue when the dog got a little over-excited, his nose digging into the plant. ‘Okay for now. Though not really looking forward to picking up travelling again. I mean. There’s some fun bits, but it’s also nice to be out here with…’ His voice trailed off as he looked at me with large loving eyes, the rest of his words unspoken. He smiled simply, satisfaction clear on his shaved cheeks.

‘I’ll miss having you around.’ I smiled, far less satisfied and more worried. Would this be the end of our little fling-thing again?

‘I don’t want this to end Ali.’ He said, halting us both and looking into my eyes, trusting Kal wouldn’t be digging up dirty diapers for this one important moment. ‘As much as I appreciate you telling me you’ll miss me..I don’t want that to be necessary. I hate it. And I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from going south again. We’ve had enough practise now. Let’s..’ He licked his lips, locking hopeful eyes with mine. ‘..let’s make it work this time.’

—

Warm, strong fingers wrapped around mine, the doctor peering at us from over the tip of her glasses, her curious eyes studying Henry perhaps just a bit too much. Sure, it was not everyday that this superstar sinks down in your chair, because he and his ..eh..partner..want to learn about planned parenthood at a later age.

I had been rather quiet through-out the visit, having heard most of the info before, but Henry seemed to be more than a little prepared, asking a gazillion questions. He had been most excited when I had hesitantly proposed he could join me and now here we were. Once again in this tiny doctor’s office, the desk before us filled with leaflets and my notebook which Henry now eagerly used to jot down points we still needed to research.

We. Us. Me and him.

The very idea seemed so very surreal, that I was growing increasingly worried that we were in fact just continuing to build this crazy fantasy. Sure, we might be a good sexual fit. Sure, we were good at talking. Sure, we had quite a few shared hobbies and enjoyed the same things, wanted the same things. But what we didn’t have just yet was time together. And that is where I got a little anxious. I was not made for long distance relationships. I needed physicality, I needed HIM. And no matter what he’d do, it was more than likely that distance would come in between us.

But that was a concern for another moment.

Now we were here to talk babies. BABIES! Kids. Pups. Off-spring. Mini-me’s. And maybe, very maybe, mini-Henry’s. But we were yet to come to a decision on that. First we wanted to know all available options and discuss it thoroughly. We were together for one and a half month now. That was..nothing. That was…

His fingers squeezed more tightly around mine and I looked up, meeting those deep, warm ceruleans of his. ‘Looks like we have plenty to work through.’ He said, his voice surprisingly dark..almost..husky. Was he ..eh..aroused? I blinked for a moment, then quickly steered my attention back towards the doctor, who didn’t seem to miss the subtle hints that he sent my way. She raised a careful, slightly amused eyebrow, trying her best to keep a professional look on her face.

‘Yea..thanks again Doctor.’ I nodded, making sure we’d get out of there before he’d decide to ravish me right there on that tiny desk.

—

By the time we got to his parents place there was no time left for formalities - and how glad I was that his parents were out to visit some of their friends on that particular moment. We barely made it to the couch, our desperate hands tugging on clothes, lips firing heated kisses, no words or actual talk managing to get past our lips. 

It was more than a little apparent, that of all things that we were good at doing together, THIS was definitely one of them. As practised as our morning walks on the beach, so practised were our fingers as they dragged over hot, shivering skin, aching to be touched. 

‘We really need to..talk.’ I panted, feeling his hot breath in my neck, his five-a-clock shadow rubbing deliciously on my skin. ‘L-l.’ Henry groaned. ‘..Later.’ He rumbled, already digging down his pocket for a condom. 

Now there was one and simple conclusion to be made here: of all things that could get Henry hot and bothered, family planning MOST DEFINITELY was one of them.

--

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Charlotte Kato x Reader {I Need You} Ch 1

(Y/n)'s Pov

"(Y/n) we're leaving now! Hurry up or else you'll have to crave a watermelon this year!" As my sister threw my bedroom door open, I practically tossed my laptop across the room but I somehow managed to stop myself before that could happen. Though as I tried to get my heavy breathing under control, I replied to the girl that had barged into my safe space. "G-Geez Yuki, don't you know how to knock? Just let me find my socks then I'll be right downstairs"

"Hehehe. Alright but don't take too long~" Once she had left the room, I quickly found a dirty pair of socks before I did the smell test and slipped them onto my feet. "I hope the corn maze is ready now it's the best part of visiting the pumpkin patch" After I found my favorite Halloween sweater from my closet, I left the room and started down the steps.

"Perfect now that the whole family's here we can head out! Oh, and good news sweetheart I called ahead and they said the corn maze is open for business as of today" Hm, that was good news indeed. "That's great Frank but don't call me sweetheart again you're not my Dad so stop pretending that you are" I didn't intend to sound so hostile towards the man but I was sick and tired of him trying to replace my Dad.

"Sorry (Y/n) didn't mean to upset you... Let's all head out now it's a bit of a drive to get there though that's alright since it will all be worth it to see you kids happy" After the six of us had piled into the old caravan I refused to speak to anyone as I popped my earbuds in and started up my One Piece playlist.

'As a kid, I never stopped searching for a great treasure'

~~~~~~~~~~

45 Minutes Later...

I was lost in my music though when someone pulled out my earbud I was brought back into reality. "(Y/n) we're here. Come on I can even see a candy apple stand and I know how much you love those" Since it was only Yuki I gave her a pass as I unbuckled my seatbelt and followed her out of the van. "You're crying again (Y/n)"

Thankfully the others had already left so I quickly wiped my tears on the back of the sleeve of my sweater before I looped my arms with Yuki's. "Where should we go first, Yu? I hope you brought cash since I don't have a penny to my name" When my little sister brought us over to the candy apple booth, she brought us each one. "Dad gave me some cash so I'll take care of buying our stuff for the day"

As the word 'Dad' rolled off of my sister's tongue I felt a sharp pain shoot through my heart but I tried to ignore it. Sure, Yuki didn't have the same relationship with our Dad that I had though it still upset me to hear her call someone else Dad. She was only three when he died and I was seven but I was the one who watched him take his last breath. Even though ten years had passed since that day I still thought about him every day.

"Oh, look (Y/n) there's the corn maze! How about we have a little bet? The first one to find their way out gets to boss the other person around for the rest of the day. Which path are you going to take Sis?" As I looked over the map, I finally decided I would take the second path on the right. "I'll see you on the other side Yuki and if I'm not out by the time you finish just head to the pumpkin patch since I wanted to go there next anyways"

"Okay! See ya (Y/n)!" Once the girl had disappeared into one of the other paths, I started down my own though I was a little surprised to see how tall the corn was since it was still early in the season but I wasn't about to complain about it. "Now to find the exit~ Hehehe. I love October so much~" There was just something about this month that sent shivers up my spine but I just loved the feeling it brought to me.

"Boy and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange?~" While I was making my way through the maze I had come across multiple dead ends and so far I still couldn't find the exit. It was a little strange since usually, I would have found my way out by now though maybe I just picked a bad path.

'(Y/n)~'

"Hm, Yuki is that you?... Yuki?" When I didn't get a response, I figured that I must have been hearing things or maybe the girl was celebrating her victory over me. "I need to find the exit so I can go hunt down my pumpkin" I took the next right in the path but something blocking the path had caused me to trip. "What the hell was that?... Hm, who in the hell would put a pumpkin in the middle of a pathway like this?"

As I picked up the medium-sized pumpkin in my hands, I gave it a once over though something about it felt familiar to me. "Hehehe. You kind of remember me of the sweet adorable Kato from Whole Cake Island. I wonder if the staff will let me buy you... I'm going to ask since I'm sure they'll be fine with it" When I stood up from the ground I continued on my way and as fate would have it, I finally found the exit. "There you are (Y/n)! You took forever in ther- where did you find a pumpkin?"

"I tripped over it before I found the exit though I think I want to buy this one. It's super adorable just like Kato don't you think?" As Yuki started to reply I could already see the frown on her lips but I didn't care since this little guy was coming home with me. "The pumpkin freak? Ha. Ha. Ha. Don't tell me you actually have feelings for that character (Y/n) I mean I can understand some of your other 'crushes' but that guy is just weird"

"Don't you have a crush on Basil Hawkins? I'm pretty sure that guy has a cult and he enjoys torturing poor innocent people like my baby Trafalgar Law" Sure, Hawkins might have looked like a normal guy but he just seemed like the type that would bathe in the blood of his victims. "Yeah... we're not going to discuss that (Y/n). Though at least my man actually looks like a man unlike the weirdo Kato"

I knew this wasn't going to end well but I couldn't help when a reply spilled from my lips. "At least Kato doesn't have any face tattoos" Yuki's face started to turn this bright red color as the insult war went into full swing. "At least Hawkins wears pants" When the next insult poured from my lips Yuki's cheeks had started to turn pink. "At least Kato smiles"

"Hawkins can smile and when he does it sexy as hell... Oh shit, thank God no one was around to hear me say that... Let's go to the pumpkin patch so I can get myself a pumpkin" As I started to giggle about the girl's outburst, I held my pumpkin closer to my chest though when something wet slid across my thumb I almost dropped it. "What was that?"

When I turned the pumpkin around, I didn't see anything that could have caused the wetness on my hand but I chalked it up to just being a drop of water from a nearby tree or something like that. "Weird... Yuki wait for me!" The girl didn't stop running towards the pumpkin patch though I easily caught up to her before she could get very far. "Slow down Yu! I'm going to end up dropping my pumpkin at this rate!" Thankfully this time Yuki did as I asked. "I'm sorry Sis. What are you going to crave on your pumpkin this year? You always do something different each year and they always come out looking fantastic"

"I'm not sure yet"

"Oh, look at this pumpkin (Y/n) it's huge! Do you think it will fit in the van? I don't want to take up too much space but I also really want it" I took a good long look at the pumpkin she wanted though I didn't think it would be a problem since it would fit perfectly fine in the backseat between us. "We can put it in the empty space in the back seat. If you can find Frank ask him to carry it for you since I'd rather not speak to that man any more than I have to"

"Alright (Y/n) I'll go find him but please try and at least be nice to him for once. He really cares about us like we're his own kids" That might have been true but there was no way in hell that I was going to get along with Frank any time soon. "No, it's not going to happen Yuki and you know that. I need to clear my head for a minute just text me when we're ready to leave" Why couldn't Yuki just keep her thoughts to herself for once? I didn't mean to get as upset as I did at the girl but it was far too late to turn back now.

'That wasn't very nice (Y/n)'

"Hm, who said that?" I had definitely heard someone speak though when I looked around, I didn't see anyone. "Hello?" There was a moment of silence as the sound of birds chirping met my ears but when I got no response from a person, I only shrugged my shoulders and kept walking. "Must have been the wind"

The rest of my walk was quiet and uneventful but I still didn't feel like going back to the others just yet. "This looks like a good place to sit" Since there wasn't much out here to use as a seat, I ended up just sitting on the slightly wet grass while my back leaned against the tree behind me. "It's so peaceful out here... Too bad I can't stay here forever"

I knew there wasn't going to be much time to myself today but I was at least going to enjoy every second that I had right now. "Hm, I wonder what kind of design would look the best on you. Any thoughts small pumpkin?" As my fingertips started to trace along the ribs of the pumpkin's hard shell, I felt a pleasant feeling start to fill my chest. Though I wasn't exactly sure what had caused me to feel this way.

"My Dad helped me crave my first pumpkin when I was just two years old. We had to use those silly plastic craving tools since I was too little to use the regular kitchen knife. It became our tradition to carve a pumpkin every year together but... now he's dead and it's all my fault" I couldn't stop my tears from falling any longer and I just sat there as they hit against the shell on the orange object within my lap. "H-He never would have been driving that day if I hadn't dropped the pumpkin b-but I did a-and it cracked. H-H-He just wanted me to be happy. I killed him!"

'It wasn't your fault (Y/n)'

~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 1

turn this boat around (we’re going down)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

who would win: a normal river or one soggy girl

Word count: 5764

Prompt: “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”

———————

“Don’t forget to put on—”

But it was too late. Kitty and Cleves were already sprinting into the river and collapsing into the water. Jane’s arm fell limp to her side and she narrowed her eyes at the pair.

“Fine. I hope you both fry.” She hissed before turning to help someone else- someone less stupid and more obedient- with putting on sunscreen.

It had been Kitty and Maggie’s idea to go out for a swim, which was why the ten Tudor reincarnated ladies were out by a secluded riverside in the first place. It was quite warm that day, anyway, so they gave in to the idea and packed up two cars and drove out to the serene little spot for a nice day on the water. However, not everyone was as thrilled to be there as Kitty and her impractical soulmate were.

Joan’s nose curled as water lapped hungrily at her toes. She stepped out of the shallows and back onto the sandstone shoreline. It was too cold in her opinion- she didn’t know how Kitty and Cleves weren’t bothered by it.

Not to be a buzzkill, but she really didn’t want to be there. She hated the water, although she didn’t quite know why, as she didn’t think she had any trauma attached to it. She just didn’t enjoy getting all soggy and cold. Nor did she know how to swim, so just added bonus points to why she didn’t enjoy water. However, everyone else was onboard with the idea without even hearing her opinion, so she got dragged out with them whether she liked it or not.

Although, she had to admit the place they were hunkered down at was quite beautiful. Down a dirt path and through a thicket of foliage, the trees opened up to border the riverside. It was shaded by the overhead shrubbery, shielding them from the sun, and had several rock formations sticking out in the deeper end, perfect spots for jumping off and diving, as Kitty has already discovered, since she was already clambering up the side of one crag. Dense brambles locked around the other side, which has a bay like a gravelly beach. Joan was standing in front of the shallows, where sparkling rivulets of water rushed through the weathered limestone riverbed. She winces when she steps on a pebble. She knew she should have brought some kind of river shoes.

At the main site, Maggie had just jumped in and was now chanting for Maria to get in, who was slowly lowering herself into the water and squealing about how cold it was. A purple, black, and indigo blur then suddenly passes them in a flash; Bessie pops up from the surface a moment later, blinks at them through violet goggles, then disappears once again without a word.

“She is in heaven,” Aragon commented with a chuckle. She was seated beside Jane in a beach chair on a flat ledge just in front of the water. They were both basically taking up the roles of lifeguards for the expedition.

“Definitely.” Jane agreed with a light laugh of her own, but that light laugh quickly turned into an uproar of laughter that nearly made her fall out of her chair when Bessie unexpectedly resurfaced holding a catfish by the tail. “HOW DID YOU—?!”

“ELIZABETH!!” Aragon barked, laughing as hard as everyone else. Joan even thinks there’s tears streaming out of her eyes at the sight. “PUT IT BACK!!”

Bessie stared at her, then at the fish, and then placed it back in the water. It fearfully shoots away from her as fast as possible, probably having a fishy panic attack. She blinked, flashed a quick peace sign, and then dived again.

Joan watched Aragon and Jane for a moment as they settled, half transfixed on how pretty they looked in their bathing suits and hating herself for it, before a flash of green caught her eye. She turned to see Anne standing there and tipping the can of sunscreen at her.

“Have you put some on yet?” The queen asked.

“Not yet,” Joan replied.

“Need help?”

Joan’s ears were suddenly on fire, much to her dismay.

“N-no, I got it.” Joan stammered.

“Alright,” Anne shrugged. She handed Joan the can and then went to get in, pushing in Cathy, who was trying to hype herself up to jump in, as she did so.

After very poorly putting on a coating of sunscreen, Joan just awkwardly stands by the bags for a moment. She watches everyone else splash around happily, then walks past Jane and Aragon, and to a swampy area of the bay. It was overgrown with cattails and reeds, and the surface of the water was covered in a layer of mushy green algae. Joan wrinkled her nose, not even wanting to know how that would feel between her toes, and stepped across the goop to a rock sitting between a circle of tall grass growing out from the water, then to another, and another, and another, until she situated herself on a flat, fairly large stone that would make for a good watch point.

And watch she did, since she didn’t have anything better to do.

On the tallest rock formation, probably around twelve feet in height, Kitty was standing on the edge babbling about being the true queen of the castle or something. Maggie walked up to her, looked at her wordlessly, then shoved her off. Kitty’s alarmed squeal was quickly overcome by the splash of her body slapping against the river’s surface. Jane was barely able to fight back a flinch when she saw this, but was able to settle herself from where she sat.

At another part of the river, a slightly shallower area where you could stand up and only be submerged around the waist or stomach, Cleves and Maria were playing with a volleyball that had been brought along. Cleves was playfully barking at Maria to not tuck her thumbs in or else she would end up breaking them, which “would not make playing the drums very easy.”

And then, in front of Jane and Aragon’s ledge, a flurry of bubbles explode against the rippling surface. A moment later, Bessie pops up like a two thousand year old river monster that has just awoken from its slumber. Thick, long tendrils of black hair draped over her face like wet snakes, but she’s able to navigate her way over to the shore with ease. When she gets to a ledge, she hops up, grappling her arms in the rock for a grip while her feet scrabble against the stone before finding a hold and pushing the rest of her body up. Once she stands, she pauses for a moment, then shakes her head wildly to dry her hair, quickly replacing the image of “river monster” with “soggy black bear.”

“Was that really necessary, Elizabeth?” Aragon said with distaste, as she got caught in the crossfire of the splattering hair water. But even from a distance, Joan could tell Aragon was just messing around, and was quite endeared by how at ease and happy her daughter figure was.

“Yes.” Bessie said with a blank face. She padded over to the cooler and took out a water bottle. She took a few sips, then set it down, along with her goggles. “I don’t need these.”

“Elizabeth, don’t open your eyes under-”

But Bessie had already returned to the river, which she’s practically claimed as her aquatic kingdom. Aragon shook her head with a loving chuckle.

Just then, Joan felt a flash of embarrassment. Bessie was so calm and relaxed, despite being in a bathing suit. Everyone knew she had issues with her body, but she looked so peaceful. Sure, it was a one piece swimsuit (dark purple with black stripes) and she also had shorts on, but still! Even Kitty was in a tankini! And Cleves, who was the proclaimed “ugly one” by history, was proudly flaunting a ruby red bikini!

Joan shyly looked down at herself, at the light blue rash guard and darker blue waterproof shorts covering her floral bathing suit underneath; and felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She felt kinda pathetic- what gave her the right to be so ashamed of her body? She wasn’t touched in the way Kitty and Bessie were. She shouldn’t be so nervous of skin being shown.

She sighed and plucked up a pebble sitting on her slab, throwing it fiercely as far as she could. The resounding splash seemed to alert a few of the girls on the largest rock, who just now noticed that she was sitting there.

“Joan!” Maggie called. “Come on! Come up with us!”

Joan scanned the water, but found no possible way to get to the rock without getting in, and it was very deep in that area. Besides, even if there was a way, she knew she would probably be pushed off if she dared to venture up there, and she didn’t know what she would do if that would happen. Everyone would figure out she couldn’t swim, she would probably have to be rescued, and she would never be able to live that down. She huddled further into the center of the stone she’s on.

“I’m good!” She called back.

Maggie exchanged looks with Cathy and Kitty, who were up there with her. Anne was standing on the top, too, but she just tilted her head at Joan in a curious, but slightly worried way.

“Why not?” Kitty yelled this time.

“It’s too cold!”

“Uhh.” Kitty blinked. “Okay.”

Joan bit her lip, already knowing she was being judged. They definitely saw through her answer and were thinking about how stupid and scared she was. She wished she could be like the protagonist in a movie that would suddenly get a burst of confidence which would send her proudly leaping into the water and being perfectly fine, but she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to get in. And she didn’t want to sit there looking like a fool anymore, so she stood up and hopped back onto the bay.

Joan walks over to the bags, noticing random trinkets- necklaces, rings, hats, even a damp, clumped up shirt- piled neatly on the ledge Aragon and Jane were sitting at. She looked at it curiously, then yelped as a crushed beer can was suddenly hurled out from the water. Aragon and Jane look at her in amusement.

“Watch out,” Aragon warned her a little too late. “Elizabeth is cleaning out the river.”

“And also creating a hoard.” Jane nodded at the pile.

Speaking of the devil, Bessie’s top half emerges from the water and clings to the edge of the ledge so she can place a scuffed green beaded necklace with her pile.

“Think you can find me some sunglasses?” Aragon asked.

Bessie grinned up at her and then disappeared in the water again. Joan momentarily saw her figure ripple near the riverbed before sliding out of view into the deep end.

“She has a tendency to go nonverbal when she’s in her zone or concentrated.” Aragon informed Joan with a chuckle. “It’s adorable.”

Joan smiled slightly, then moved to sift through one of the bags. She pulled out two pencils and her small sketchbook. Seeing as she had nothing else to do, she thought she could get away with drawing. Not like anyone would do anything to stop her.

She looked around for a good place to sit, then noticed a path winding through the trees to her far left. She blinked at it, glanced at the others not paying any attention to her, then walked into the riverside jungle.

The tangled trees seemed to be reaching for her with long trailing roots, and branches like skeletal fingers snarled together overhead to create a canopy of sorts. Sunlight filtered in from above, casting pale yellow spots across the large boulders dotting the foliage. They were all huge and just lied around like the remnants of an ancient landslide. A few packed together tightly against a tall fjord of earth, creating a rocky corridor of sorts. There was another path to get to the other side, beneath a log suspended in the air by two crags and through some weeds, but Joan decided to venture into the crevice.

Walking through the passageway felt like she was getting a hug from the earth. It was a slight squeeze to go through, she had to hunch her shoulders in to keep them from scraping against the walls, but it felt worth it for the sights.

Flowers were blooming from vines etched in the moss-matted bedrock on either side of her. Orange and green and amber were streaked through the rock walls, glowing beneath streams of water that glittered like melted diamonds from a spring somewhere up above. Specks of sunlight bleeding in through the canopy above would hit the stone’s tears in just the right way to set them off in radians of iridescent and silver. The deep emerald moss was fluffy beneath Joan’s fingers when she tentatively touched the patches. Ahead, she then sees braids of willow dangling down from a long, reaching branch that has itself draped over one of the boulders. When she pushes through the curtain, she’s met with scattered trees that break down and fold into a field of rock crags that border the glistening river.

Joan walks through the grass and down onto the shoreline. Most of the bay there were shallows that have leaked into the openings between stony ridges risen from the ground. She shivers as she wades through the ankle-deep water, feeling the cold jolt through her muscles. She clambered up the first rock she could reach as fast as she could.

She took a moment to scan around her, then glanced over her shoulder. Parts of her were hoping to see the others calling her name, breaking through the foliage and running to her in relief for wandering off, but she knew that would never happen. She bet they would end up leaving her there entirely if she stayed out too long.

Shaking her head to rid herself of that though, Joan began to traverse the rock formations carefully. She leapt from one shelf to another, feeling like a graceful bighorn sheep climbing a mountainside or a dragon mapping out its new territory. Jumping and moving like that made her feel so free and uncaring- perhaps this is what Bessie felt when she was in the water?

Joan paused for a moment to catch her breath. She looked to the side and saw a large pool of stagnant brownish water sitting in between some ledges nearby. A dark green, blobby frog croaked from in the warm, bubbling mud, then bobbled at her with its big yellow eyes. Joan giggled softly, then moved on.

Hopping across rocks, tight walking over fallen logs, occasionally stepping through the water below when gaps were too big to jump, Joan made her way across the stone shoreline. Then, the ground flattened out and the bay became one of smooth stone that she could easily walk across, only occasionally going around the reaching shelves of earth that stretched out from the cliff face bordering that side of the river.

Finally, her trek and hard work paid off when she spotted a nice rock formation reaching over the water. It was high up, safe from any splashing from the rapids below, with a sheer edge and an inclined side that Joan was able to climb up with little difficulty when she held her pencils and sketchbook in her mouth. There, she settled herself and began to draw.

Around thirty minutes into finishing up a drawing of Killer Frost brawling with a menacing polar bear (what? she had an active imagination!) she looked up and stared with wide eyes at the hawk perched only a few meters away.

It’s not that she’s never seen a hawk before, she has, but she’s never been this close to one. And it’s not like they were common in a big city like London.

This one was pretty big. It had its streaked, slate grey chest puffed out as it scanned the water with orange-red eyes from the tree branch it was regally perched on. The thick, bristled tail was still banded, though the marks were fading, meaning this was an adolescent. And the wide, white stripe over the eyes told Joan that it was a goshawk.

The bird flexed its razor sharp, obsidian black talons around the branch, and Joan watched it do this simple action in awe. She flips to a clean page and begins to sketch out the beautiful creature, looking up every few strokes to check the details and diameters.

On her fifth glance, the hawk suddenly billowed its huge wings and leapt off of the branch. It dove straight down into the water, submerging itself for a moment before soaring back out in a blur of brown and grey. A long, blue-grey fish was now wriggling desperately in its hooked beak. It clamped down harder to keep its meal from falling out, then glanced at Joan. Its fire-colored eyes narrowed at her, talons twitching subtly beneath it as it hovered in the air. Then, it cocks its head back, as if to say, “Try to top that, wingless bird,” and flies off into the trees on the other side of the river.

Joan watched it go with an amazed look. She smiled and went back to her sketch. She finishes it relatively quickly and goes to the next blank page. As she’s doing so, she slowly starts to pick up on how active the floral and fauna around her was.

Tangles of thorns and thickets of huge ferns grew along the shoreline on the other side, which was coated with smashed up gravel and fragments of river shells and pieces of smooth black flint. Sharp, hollow reeds poked out of the edges of the water like pale green and light brown needles, just waiting for some poor sole to step on them and be lanced by their spear-like points. Tadpoles and minnows were weaving between the bases, their delicate bodies barely even stirring up a fleck of mud as they swam.

In the deeper water, the shimmering bodies of fish could be seen, although it was hard to tell what size or color they were because the rapids were rushing white streaks over the surface. However, she did notice a green-brown catfish swimming lazily from underneath her rock, whiskers billowing beside its face like little squirming snakes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Joan noticed a tawny, speckled gecko skitter up onto her ledge, then paused when it saw her. It looks her up and down with its big brown eyes, sizing her up, then turns away, deciding to find a different place to sunbathe. Joan giggled softly. She HAD to draw Killer Frost messing with a lizard, now. As she was reaching for one of her pencils, however, it slipped from her hand and began rolling to the edge. Joan lunged just a bit too far for it.

Joan couldn’t even think to try and catch herself as she tips over the edge and into the icy water below.

The first thing she realizes when she falls in is that the water was a lot shallower than she thought it was. Or maybe she fell with enough momentum to slam all the way to the bottom. She didn’t know, but she felt her back connect to the riverbed with so much force she thought her spine broke for a moment. But then her body began to writhe like a stabbed snake without her brain commanding it to do so. She just squirms and wiggles and flails, but she can’t get to the surface and the current seizes her in its glacial talons and drags her along with it. She can feel her back scrape and shred against the rock beneath her, even with the rash guard on.

The water stings every inch of her like dry ice until she can’t tell cold from hot any longer. She’s so in shock from falling in and then landing on her spinal cord that she forgets if she’s being boiled alive or being frozen solid.

Everything is dark, and the water presses down on her. Someone is coming to save her. Jane is coming to save her. She must be. Or someone must be— they won’t let her die!

This— this was why she’s scared of the water. Not because of a past trauma, but because of the knowledge of how powerful it is and the inherent fear that comes with that. The water is stronger than she’ll ever be and that makes her scared.

She can’t swim, she can’t breathe, she can’t escape. She’s going to die in this river, and shouldn’t it have edges. Shouldn’t there be a way out?

Joan suddenly bashed into a boulder sticking out of the river— there it was. Reeling with pain, awareness rushing back to her, Joan spun in the water, flailing for a hold on something.

She crashed into another rock, bounced off, and slammed into yet another. The river was going so fast now that she couldn’t stop herself. She was being dragged hungrily by the undertow at top speeds.

Joan manages to twist over so she wouldn’t be belly-up anymore like a fish waiting to die. She shoved her knees against the riverbed, feeling the stone slabs slice off an entire layer of skin like a hot knife, and breaches the surface. She gasps, sucked in as much air as she could in her panic, then tried to scream for help, but was cut off when her face smashed into solid rock.

Joan sees bright, colorful stars explode across her vision— or maybe they’re minnows, because she keels over and the undertow reclaims her into its depths. She’s back underwater, sinking into an alarmingly deep part of the river.

Mmmmm... The river seemed to rumble around her. So delicious... Mine. My prey.

Blood is swirling up from one of Joan’s nostrils. She doesn’t know how because that nostril already feels like it’s swollen shut. That side of her face is pulsing with pain; she can feel her heartbeat pounding away- is it getting weaker?

Her back touches the riverbed. Knobby protrusions and pebbles and shells scratch against her rash guard like desperate fingers. A few might have actually managed to cut through the fabric because she can feel the streaks of pain lancing across her spine worsening by the second. Her cuts being packed full of grit and gravel is so bad that she doesn’t even become aware of the burning in her lungs until just then.

Shhhhhh.... The water whispers when Joan’s whimper sends ripples through its body. Shhh... Rest. Mine. Hungry.

The burning turns into a full on incineration of her lungs. Suddenly, the water around her feels a lot less icy and a lot more like it was boiling around her. Her body felt so hot and heavy, her frigid and numb at the same time. This and the pain brought awareness back to her somewhat. She’s dizzy and can barely move, so it wouldn’t matter if she knew how to swim or not. Someone warm and wet is trickling from her nasal passage and down into her throat- blood.

Hungry. Hungry. Mine..... Cooed the water gleefully.

Stop, Joan thought desperately, as if she could speak the language of the undertow humming around her. Please stop.

Something is pressing down on her chest with talons of fire. Her throat is wrapped with burning hot razor wire. The surface just ten feet away from her face is starting to look a lot more black.

Want this. Want want want. Chanted the water. Sleep. Hungry hungry hungry.

Let me go. Joan mentally begged. She couldn’t believe she was using the last of her strength to try and telepathically speak to a fucking liquid. Please.

Can’t. The water replied, and now she knew for sure oxygen deprivation was making her delirious and think it was talking back to her. So hungry. Yum yum yum...

No. Human yuck. F-fish yum. Joan tried to persuade. Ripples swish around her like the aquatic shake of a head.

No. Need. You. Mine. So hungry. The water burbled. Shhhh....

No- Human yuck. Human yuck.

Joan couldn’t tell if she was crying, but the voice she was using to think with was cracking and trembling like she was.

Shhh....

Human yuck. Fish yum. Please don’t.

Shhhhh.......

No-

Shhhh.....

STOP! Joan roared. Her eyes shot open and, thick with gurgling blood, she screamed, “HELP!!” as loud as she could.

She may have been underwater, but surely someone had to hear her. She had to be close to the others by now.

How long has she been drowning without them knowing...?

“HELP! HELP!”

HUSH! Cried the water.

STOP!! Joan shrieked back.

Suddenly, something pierces the surface. Through the blackness hazing her vision Joan looks up and smiles weakly. She knew the others wouldn’t have left her to die. She knew they cared.

But it wasn’t them.

The fleeting blur of grey and brown zipped out of the water in an instant. The water is agitated, roiling and churning in rage. It seizes Joan by the throat and arms and legs and shakes her.

Then, she’s going up, up, up, dragged against a jagged, razor sharp slope of shell shards and flint daggers, and—

And she’s thrown over the surface.

Joan gasps loudly, reintroducing her lungs to oxygen—but they weren’t quite ready to quarrel with the element just yet. So, instead, she just made feeble, wheezing squeaky noises as fights to stay up above. Or, rather, the water fights to keep her up. She was just floundering around like an upside down drunk duck that never learned how to swim.

Crack went something in her chest as she wheels into a twisted rock formation and stab went another bolt of pain throughout her entire body.

Human yuck, Went the water as it shoved her waterlogged body into another protrusion. Human yuck.

Human yuck, Joan agreed dizzily as she extended her hands and grappled onto the next rock she was thrown against. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the tiny chick-chick-chick of the spiderwebs crawling through her rib cage when she stretched out her arms. Human yuck. She repeated tiredly.

Weakly, Joan crawled out of the water and flopped onto the top of the stone. At the sudden pressure on her stomach, water comes rushing out of her mouth and all she can really do is slack her jaw and let it all pour free from her innards. It was a terrible sensation, like water snakes were slithering out of her stomach and up her throat. It halted her breathing for several terrifying seconds, so she had no choice but to force up a cough to move the process along, but that cough turned into a gag and then a sob.

She has definitely been crying.

Joan wasn’t too sure how long she was sprawled out on that rock with tears streaming down her cheeks and water leaking from every orifice, but eventually looked up blearily. She had managed to float all the way down to the small forest with the rock passageway, but wasn’t at the other side yet. She also saw that tangles of water weeds and ropes of slimy algae were coiled around her limbs, like medals awarding her for not drowning. She didn’t have the strength to peel them off.

Everything hurt so badly. Her knees were skinned raw and filled with gravel, her back was so gashed she was sure her spine could be seen, her palms were on fire and one of her fingernails were missing, one half of her face was swollen and bruised, and something was very wrong with her ribs. She had no idea how she was going to get back to the others, and she was starting to fear they weren’t going to look for her at all. They were going to leave her.

More tears spilled free. She tried to call their names, but her voice came out as a strangled gurgle that the rapids shushed with their relentless churning. She stared fearfully at the rushing water around her and whimpered pathetically at what was to come.

After a few more minutes of laying still, Joan slowly slid off of the rock. The icy chill of the water sends the cuts scattered across her back alight with fresh pain and they sing with discomfort. She sings with them when she keens miserably.

Each step is agony. Her knees tremble under her weight and her ribs quiver in her chest in a terrible, unnatural way. The only reason she’s able to cross to the shore is because the water is only to her chest, but it’s still hard to wade through and bubbles around her, like it’s laughing at her efforts.

Joan stumbled to the bay along the side of the forest, which is situated on a ledge she wouldn’t be able to hoist herself up onto with her injuries. So she has to scale the side, walking through the deep, murky water until gravel turns to mud and her feet are sucked at hungrily. She can’t manage a yelp, so she just gurgled awkwardly and jerked back quickly, which makes her see stars. She clings tighter to the grass on the ledge and continues forward.

Finally, after twenty-five minutes of moving at a crawl, she reaches the end of the forest. The bank curves into a pool-like area, then continues to a straight line where the site was. Joan considered getting out and walking over there, but knew what would happen if she did- everyone would have to pick up and leave and they would all hate her for ruining it for them. As much as she really wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath that won’t try to drown her, she didn’t want everyone being annoyed with her, either.

So, instead, she dragged herself to the pool bay. Slimy black mud squelched beneath her toes and she nearly flattened a squishy-looking toad when her knees finally buckled and she collapsed. It hops out of the way with an alarmed croak, gawks at her black and blue and pale white form half sticking out of the water, then scoots away hastily.

There, Joan lays, moaning and crying miserably. She rationalizes that she’ll have more strength in just a moment if she just rests... Yes... She could feel the pain ebbing away already...

Sleep, sleep... Cooed the water as it licks her legs gently. Mine. So hungry... Human...yum.

———

“Can you get her up the hill?”

“Yes, Catherine, I’m not THAT weak. Besides, she’s really light...”

“I know, I’m not saying you’re weak, I just don’t want you to drop her.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

“I never—”

“I had a baby, you know? I know how to carry a person. I was a mother.”

“Carrying a baby and carrying a teenager are two different actions.”

“I don’t know... Look at the way she’s snuggled up to me. Jealous?”

“No—”

Two voices bicker above her head. They’re both very warm and very soothing, but one is barbed with thorns and the other is coiled with jagged gemstone points. She’s too delirious to make them out fully, though, or ask them to be quiet, so she just moaned weakly. They don’t appear to hear her.

“Gentle, Anne!”

“I am being gentle!!”

A whimper worms free. This time, she’s heard because the voices shut up. When they eventually speak again, their tones are too hushed to hear properly.

“Mmmm...” Joan choked out. “I’m.....mmmm.......”

A finger brushes her cheek- the one that isn’t swollen and throbbing. She leans into it with another feeble whimper.

“We need to bring her to the hospital.”

“We need to bring her home.”

“Do you see the state she’s in? She needs a doctor!”

“Well, you can be the doctor. Doctor Catherine!”

“Do you not care about her? Because if not, give her to me.”

“Woah, hey- I’m holding her. Back off.”

“Then we take her to the-”

“Home.” Joan rasped. “Wanna...go home.”

She forces her eyes open and sees Anne and Aragon above her. They both look very worried as they stare down at her.

“Please...”

“You heard her,” Anne, the one carrying her, said. “Come on. Let’s hurry to the car.”

They continue walking to where the cars were parked. In that time, Joan becomes a little more aware of her surroundings. Instantly, guilt filtered through her. Everyone was probably having to leave because of her.

“I’m...I’m sorry...” She panted. Talking was so hard and it made her bruised face hurt tremendously. “I can...I can walk....mm too...heavy...”

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her, making slight rocking motions. “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”

Joan tried to argue, but could only make a weak moan of pain. She hears the sound of a car door opening and then she’s being set inside with her head in someone’s lap- Aragon’s. Fingers began to gently thread through her wet, tangled hair.

“Why do I have to drive again?” Anne asked while sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Because you got to hold her.” Aragon said. “So I get to sit with her. It’s fair.” She looks down at Joan’s cloudy eyes. “Hey, baby girl. We’re gonna bring you home, alright? You’re gonna be just fine. We’ll take care of you.”

Joan really liked the sound of that.

She smiled dreamily in her daze and began to babble softly as she started to drift back off into unconsciousness. She can feel her cracked ribs aching, and she’s desperate to not feel again.

“Did she just say ‘human yuck?” Anne said from the front of the car. “Oh my god, that is too cute! Catherine, record that!”

“Eyes on the road, Anne!”

Soon, all Joan can feel is Aragon’s gentle hand stroking her hair. She knew she would be in an extreme amount of pain when she woke up again and may actually have to go to the hospital, but, right now, she just focused on the loving pets she was getting and the sound of the water’s lullaby still roaring in her ears.

One thing was for sure: she was never going to go swimming again.

𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕣𝕒 𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Dear hopeless god, she should have brought something with her, do you think? Her hands were busied bracken upon the wheel of the car. She bent her head down, letting the music wash over her, drown out every last sound ’til she was a cavity of emptiness. And she drove. And the road peeled away.

Let me say that she did not bring another pair of clothes. She did not bring anything from her house except what she came in, blue t-shirt, tight jeans and dead phone. Why? Because she was sick of never feeling a thing.

The path turned as she began rolling down fields of grass, through pretty hanging lights and beyond. How steady the beast below her was! Then, it all stopped. The car reeved.

“No. No. No.” She mumbled, watching it complain fruitfully. She didn’t know how long she’d driven. It wasn’t nice that her car would break down now. But that was exactly what it was doing. Sal got out. The rain slapped her face and broke her clothes. Any efforts to start the car were useless. In the end, she pushed it off the road. Wrapping her hands around herself for comfort, she began to walk. Wind and rain cut at her lips, causing them to turn a retched shade of white. She could have given up. But.. Yes! There was a light glistening not far off. She turned her body. It seemed that it had been further than it looked for it took her hours to get there. By the time she arrived, she no longer felt anything. Correction. Her hands were limp at her side and her whole body was cold as snow. Her soul, however, felt a little bit of the liveness people said she should feel. Crawling closer and closer, her eyes lit upon a sign near the road. It’s words read ‘Route 66’ in a tainted and faint way. There were lights hanging over the buildings. Next to them all was a bundle of flowers. It was dark and no one was out. She barely saw anything but the light she had seen echoed from a building across the road. Her feet felling the unevenness of the path, she entered the building and swung open the door.

Everyone’s eyes stared at her. There were less people in the inn than she would have thought. The ones that were there lined the benches. All slightly eccentric. A hippie in the corner with flowers in his hair, a tall and dark stranger, a man in the shadows dressed in a red jumper. They had stopped their actives, drinks half pressed to her lips.

What they saw was a girl, who’s clothes had been ripped at. Her hands were covered in bruises, her lip embossed in a cut, her jeans ripped and her knees no better. Water dripped from her shoulders. She had flowers and leaves in her hair, mud splashed willy—nilly on half of her face.

“Woah man.” The hippie whispered from the table. “Flo. You gotta come.”

The woman, Flo, appeared two seconds later; long black hair tied into a bun and a smear of wine on her hands.

“O, babe.” She said, “Come on.”

Sal stood staring at both of them. Good god, I can’’t make them help me. Then she remembered how cruel the walk had been and how, she had more than once thought of death. Sally went with Flo.

The room they entered was a kind of warm Sally wanted to get used to. Flo lead her inside, pointed at the bathroom and told her to wash. That bathroom was beautiful. The water; lovely. Sally tilted her head to taste it. It was a short lived wonder. Soon, her body was aching. She turned the tap off and wrapped herself in a blue towel, her hands attempting to pull some of her hair out of her face. Flo had asked no questions since she had got here, she braced for them now. The feeling of dread escalated when she remembered that she had only brought one pair of clothes. Those wet things lay in the bathtub, wretched and uninvited. That's when Flo came in.

“You look like a Goddess. I hope you like it here.” She said, hanging around the towel rack. She seemed confident in herself as if she had found all Sal had yet to. Her posture was one that said, ‘I know my place.’ It seemed her place was around this town. The compliments she gave were not creepy. They felt natural, as if she was merely stating all she thought. The open and friendly nature inspired a sense of trust. Catching Sally looking at the bundle of the clothes in the bath, Flo said, ‘I am not letting you wear those. You may be a stranger but I’ve never turned away company. Wait here. I might have something for you.”

Sally seriously doubted that Flo had something for her. The clothes she was wearing seemed a little eccentric for Sally’s taste. Yet, what Flo came back was a blue ‘I love route 66’ shirt.

“Sorry, love.” She said as she passed it to Sally, “Lizzy’s old merch is probarbly not what you wanted.”

Sally laughed as she held it. Then, clapped her hands around her mouth.

“Oh god. I’m sorry. It’s perfect.”

Flo should have searched for answers from the line in her eyebrows to the curve in her lips. Strangely, she seemed to accept this. Just as she accepted anyone who opened those doors. That’s what she reminded Sal of; a woman who loved her town and was loved by it back. Who would do anything for it, even stay when there was nothing left.

“Well,” Flo shrugged, ruffling her hair with the back of her hands, “Best to do something about your cuts. I’ll be back in a second.”

Strangely curious, Sally wandered out of Flo’s bathroom. Or at least she meant to, what came was a more like a limp. Making her way to the counter, something strange caught her eye. Flo was packing; she put clothes in first, perfectly folded as if they were prepared for moving around, then she placed in her makeup kit, last to go in was the toothbrush.

Do you think he’d mind? She asked herself, moving her hand over the fabric. If he does, the voice in her head said with a smile, you’ll set him right.

She swung her bag over her shoulder and looked back to Sally.

“Come on, darling. I know someone who’ll fix you up.”

They walked down the road. Buildings lined the path. Each one alive in their own way. Sal could sense it.

“Lean on me.” Flo’s command left Sal little choice. Upon telling Flo she was grateful for she needed it (much to her surprise), Sal saw a smile. Ask no questions, seemed to be the policy of this town, be ready for anything.

It barely took two minutes before they were at a door. The words on the hanging steal over the wide white doors read ‘Doctor Hudson; Wheel-well clinic.’ The next one, ‘Home of the Town Sheriff; specialising in catching bad guys’ or something like that. Flo swung the door open.

“They’re probarbly sleeping.” Flo left her to go into the room. The Sheriff was splayed on one side of the bed.. His gun was on it’s bed side table. Two things Flo couldn’t help but notice; one, the man was wearing his normal clothes; white shirt and black pants as if he never had had anything else to wear, two; his hand was curled over Doc’s pillow. His fingers had fallen out of Doc’s hand while he was sleeping. The race car’s face was covered by many stolen blanket. Flo didn't have to say anything to wake Sheriff. That man was a light sleeper. He sometimes struggled to sleep at night; every little distraction threatening to wake him. It took him no time at all for his hands to reach for his gun.

“Blue blazers. What is it Flo? If someone is wrecking my town again I’ll have their head on a platter.”

“Calm down, love.” Flo said, looking over at the door. “A girl walked into my bar. She looks wrecked. I was wondering if you could wake Doc.”

He smiled. “You ask to much of me Flo,” Flo knew that was sarcasm. Sheriff would probably tear worlds apart if he thought someone needed him. “If he slaughters me make sure you rename him ‘The incredibly unfabolous (when sleepy) Hudson Hornet.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Flo said. She left Sheriff to wake up Doc. And she wouldn’t say that she didn’t pity him for his job. She could hear some grumblings as to what time it was and then, a loud, thud! Someone had fallen out of bed. They really needed to get better than that. After minutes, Doc came stumbling in. A ‘Respect Woman T-shirt’ pulled over his dreadlocks. He stifled a huge yawn.

“Can you go get my first aid kit?” He said.

Sheriff nodded. “On it, rookie.”

Soon, Sal was sitting in the corner. Doc poured ointment onto a cloth and dabbed her cuts. It stung and she hissed.

“They shouldn’t sting for long unless I’m a horrible doctor which,” Doc shrugged, his long hair falling over his shoulders, “I might be. Anyway I’m sorry about all this.”

Sally smiled. “It’s my fault for getting all these cuts in the first place.” Her hands had been burnt by the leather of her car.

“Where did you get them?” There was something about his face that made her want to tell the truth. Three things stood out; the mess of eyeliner that told of a reckless side, the bruises that said he was forgetful and the shirt he wore said he cared a shit lot.

“I drove all night.” She shrugged.

Doc whistled. “I can relate to that.” She thought he might be like her; someone who would pack up and leave his past behind if all went to hell. It was just a feeling. There was nothing to solify it, not even in his appearance. They continued to work on her cuts, moving from her hands to her shoulder.

“Are you married to Sheriff?” She asked for want of anything better to say. Truly, she didn’t care if he was or wasn’t. The silence between them felt like something made to be broken.

His lips curved to a smile. The words seemed to be already pressed on his lips. “Men can get married to whoever they like. But it’s not a thing all men should feel like they have to do. The married men aren’t better than those without a shiny ring. Society needs to stop pressing people to find a perfect person. Life isn't about that. Life is about finding something that fills your soul.” And being prepared to lose it. He added silently in his head. God, he still felt about that sometimes. The rush of the wind past his ears, going faster than he ever could, feeling immortal and so godly that he could do whatever he liked. It had fulfilled his soul and made him happy. And then it had crashed because of some bloody businessmen. Perhaps, it was good. Route 66 made him happy too.

“I like that. But,” She laughed again and this time she didn’t feel like she should cover it, “It doesn’t really answer my question. Are you in love with Sheriff?”

He looked up, trying to be truthful. “Yes. I absolutely am.”

Sally didn’t answer. She understood this man more every second she spent with him, some people were funny like that. Suddenly, the ointment clapped onto the bottle.

——-

They sent her to bed. She curled on the couch. Before she did, she made sure her phone was working again. Then, she sit it aside. She wasn’t prepared to talk to someone from her past life yet. The couch felt warm and much better than any bed she had ever slept in before. She could finally close her eyes without feeling anything surge up in her soul. Doc and Sheriff had let Flo stay over too, thank god. She closed her eyes opposite to Sal.

——

In the morning, Sal woke up to the sound of robins. God, she loved them. Somehow they lifted the empty cavity of her soul and let her breathe again. Excitably, she got up and opened the window a fraction to see the bird land on the tree. It looked at her, cranking it’s neck. The bird’s pelt was beautiful; all rainbows and spots.

“Good morning, love.” She mused and felt sun fall on her face. The bird seemed to be leading her somewhere. She laced her boots over her numb feet and got up. Usually, she would just follow it, without telling anyone where she was and come back late at night. But these people deserved more than that. She scribbled a note to each of them in turn, thanking them for everything and saying, that if they thought it was nothing, they were certainly wrong.

Then, she began to run. It wasn’t dawn yet and the world was quiet. How she could live inside a silent world! She had no need for people when the land felt like this beneath her feet. It was then that she asked herself; could I be happy here? Without waiting for an answer, she rushed past. She laughed as she ran, into the puddles, past blooming trees, past a ridge of brown until she forgot who she was. All she saw was beauty and colour, nothing else mattered. Coming to the top, she noticed a dusty building, it was virtually breaking apart. Lightly, she ran her fingers over it and it seemed to whisper to her. It recorded a long history, everything intertwining at once. She loved old things; their layers, the secrets they just can’t help but childishly admit. Her mind could paint them as they might of been. Beautiful and sublime from every inch. She saw it and god, it made her heart race. There was so much to see. Turning her back, she looked across a ridge. Her heart stopped. This! This! This! She thought. I’m in love with this! And she seemed to be, the palace below her was a kingdom that not many eyes could see. Instead of whispering to her, it seemed to sing and she felt every beat like a melody. After a while, she closed her eyes.

“Let me stay.” She breathed.

True, she’d only been here for a moment but each moment the land had sang to her, glistened and glowed. The people in it sang the same tune. They seemed to be in love, as if a little piece of them had been stuck. Her parents would scold her for saying this for they knew like everyone else who had ever known her did, that she fell in love to easy. Trust was a thing Sally knew she needed to be weary about. But these people seemed okay. She never thought they’d betray her or hit her. Somehow, even now, there was a feeling of safety.

Arriving back, she slipped of her shoes. She wanted a cup of tea but she felt that might be invading their hostility. Still, she pledged to ask when they came back. Flo was obviously not sleeping. For a horrid second, Sal thought that she had left. Then, Flo walked out of the bathroom. She was running her hair through with a towel and pushing it up. Her face seemed laid back without the makeup.

“Good morning.” Sal said. Flo was a little taken aback by the tone of her voice.

“Hello. You look so much better.”

“I’m so sorry for leaving. I went for a run.”

“See anything nice?”

It was a while til Sally stopped talking. She’d always been too passionate about places and their beauty. Old places. Places were people were loved. New places where things desired to grow. Her tongue refused to stop, words brushed against her lips, she turned them, moulded them and let them drip like sugar on lemon.

“Yes. It’s beautiful isn’t it? So are the people who come here.” Sal couldn’t argue against that.

“Is there anything I need to know about them?”

Flo laughed. It looked easy for her. “Doc looks like a smart punk but really he’s just a clumsy foul. Sheriff will love anyone who gives him donuts, despite his tough look. Filmore’s the town hippy. Red only speaks sign language, a couple of us have learnt it for him. He takes excellent care of the garden. Guido and Luigi are Italian. Luigi’s bilingual. Guido… They only talk in Italian so we’ve all had a hand in learning a couple of phrases.”

“I’d love to learn.” Sally said, without thinking. She had not considered the fact that that sounded as if she meant to stay. Flo didn’t pull her up on it. After all, Sally did want to learn all of it. She wanted to learn to become fluent in both Italian and sign language so she could give to this town what it had given to her all in the space of a few days. A reason to live. She wanted to know Guido’s and Red’s stories.

———————

Months later, they’d given her a shop and a job. She was settling down here. Every day seemed to her a miracle. The people were beautiful and she fell in love with the town a fraction more every day. She dreamed of seeing those lights as they would have been back there. The people so wholeheartedly alive. This was her place. She’d put cactus’s and flower pot’s on the window sills around the Cozy Cone. She’d gotten her own kettle so she could make tea, that sometimes, she admitted, scourged her lip. Now she sat with a cup of peppermint tea on her lip and a kitten in her lap. It pressed it’s head against her leg and she smiled, scratching behind it’s ears. Doc had just come for advice. He knew, like all the rest did, that she was always open for advice. No. Not just advice. Any conversation they needed to have.

Feeling odd, she stretched her hands around her phone. She picked it up. The contacts gleamed at her. She could count down the line ‘A school friend. Her mother. Her father.’ She might as well do it. Sighing, she called her parents. She hadn’t expected them to pick up. There was a kind of shock when she realised the dark voice sliding through the phone was her father’s.

Dad: “Who is this?”

Sal; ‘It’s me. Sally. I’ve been living at Route 66. I’m happy here.”

Dad: “What do you mean, Route 66. We didn’t give you all that money for you to go and waste it. Jesus Christ, Sally, we wanted you to make a life for yourself. We gave you everything so you could have a good life. All those opportunities. The work we wanted you to do. Where did all that go?” Sally sighed. ‘Dad’ had always hated when she would run off and try to make a life for herself. They didn’t understand that there was a whole lot more to life than just being successful. Everything was pointless if you couldn’t live in the moment. Be there. Help others. Give kindness. And maybe the world would give a little back to you.

“Yeah. Okay.” She said into the phone.

Dad: “Is that all you’re going to give me?” As a matter of fact it was. She said a final, “Goodbye,” and than let the phone leave her hand. That was a stupid thing to do. Yet, it was good. She would feel free to live the life she did. She was not just a young rich girl from California.

Sheriff opened the door. His face peered through the crack.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“You know you can. Say, hi, Monsieur.” The cat un-surprisingly did nothing. Sheriff sat down next to her on the bed. She was crosslegged with her tea in her lap. Naturally, he took it as a warning sign not to get to close. He’d never trusted the way Sally drunk tea.

“I’m proud of you Sal. The whole town is.” He paused, “It’s funny how someone with so much light could come from somewhere so dark.”

Sal looked up into his face. Probably, this was the most emotional that he'd ever get other than that night may moons ago when she’d comforted him from his horrors.

“This town fixed me.” She admitted, “As I know it saves everyone who dares to open it’s door. Thank you for it all.”

Sheriff straightened up. “That’s actually not what I’m here for,” He muttered, his fingers crawling to the gun, “I chucked some hot rodder criminal type into jail last night. We need you to look into it.”