#((yelling at the top of my lungs from frosted peak:

[twilightprince101]

I love the bugsnax fandom for helping me find my creativity again and basically say “fuck you” to cringe culture and do what I want

However I also hate it because seeing everyone draw the grumpuses really fluffy has made me touch starved beyond recognition and I would sell my soul to hug everyone in game

#bugsnax #bugsnax grumpus #grumpus oc #young horses #Twi talks #((yelling at the top of my lungs from frosted peak: #I WAAAAANT CUDDLEEEESS #I WANNA BE HEEEEELD #I WANNA SNUGGLE UP WITH ALL THE GRUMPUSES #AND REST MY HEAD AGAINST THEIR FLOOF #I WANNA SQUEEZE THEM TIIGHT #AND LET THEM HOOOLD MEEEE #AAAAAAMDMSKFNEKCNSIXHR FNCKXF F #FUCK I WANNA BE HELD #GOD #anyways bugsnax fandom I love y’all but I feel like I’m going to combust))

[soulguardianazeralith]

Guess who found @hermitcraftheadcanons ‘s Scattered Au? This bish. Admittedly, it’s a lot to catch up on but so far I’ve kiiiinda got a good idea of it?

Aaaanyways, I saw somefin that caught my eye and it was Grian’s situation. Stuck in the cold, dying to the cold over and over. Getting saved by Doc. It seemed sad but interesting!

But, at least to me, I feel like it needed a small bit of tension. So here I am! Gonna give out a dumb idea I had! I will note, this Grian isn’t a fox mix or has feathery wings. I kiiinda threw in my own version into the mix- you know what, you’ll see what I mean.

TW/CW: Mentions of death, implied animal death, mentions/visual altered body parts. (I’ll probably add more later if asked to add it)

Hope y’all enjoy. Also I apologize if it ends up being short. Writing isn’t my strong suit. :\

———

The compact snow was deceptively deep, nearly dropping Doc to his knees with each step forwards. Many times he almost even rolled backwards, barely avoiding a long and steep drop to his death. It was a miracle he could even climb this far, or that there was more to still climb. His vision faded for a moment before he jerked back upright, shaking the snow off his back. He couldn’t risk any breaks or to slow down, ‘less he wants to become a Docsicle.

That was in fact, a terrible joke for a terrible moment and even he was aware of it. But the small chuckle meant his lungs were still getting are and he hadn’t gone fully numb yet.

He pulled himself up to the edge of the hill, looking around with shielded eyes. Everything was barren and the only thing even at the peak was a crown of rocky walls encircling a large and flat field of snow. You’d think that this would mean finding Grian would be easy, but with the terrible fog and sharp waves of snow he could barely even see the shadows of said rock walls.

He skirted around the outside of the field, marking each slope down the peak and fully stopping one side due to a frozen over carcass. How anything got to even spawn up here was a mystery, but considering his friend was supposedly in the area it wasn’t unlikely. Still, a llama this far up? It would take an extremely dumb creature to search for food up here. From the corner of his eye, he notices a bit of a shine under the mix of frost and white fur. Slowly, he brushed them back, color fading from his face at the sight.

Well, at least he knew it was a trader llama. What he didn’t really expect were the jagged claw marks buried into the spinal area of the poor thing. Whatever it was, it hadn’t finished the kill properly, as the carcass was still fresh despite the ice and the creature itself only had a bitemark by the base of its neck.

Wait.

Oh no.

He ran toward the center of the field, abandoning the llama. He could faintly see a blood trail leading to a shadowy silhouette, bunched up and moving slightly. Despite how cold his face was, he could smell the fresh scent of a kill in that direction. As he neared, he could recognize a dull but still bright red sweater, tattered in the back. Carefully, he slowed down and approached the person he’d been searching for, his words caught in his throat. He almost doubted himself as he spoke, watching the figure turn to him and hiss at him.

Grian’s body twitched as he positioned himself between Doc and the dead trader, crushing their ribs in the process. It was very clear that he couldn’t actually see Doc with the eyes on his face, but instead had to move his wings at angles to see. The purple eyes sharpened as they locked on the newcomer, making Grian peel off from the kill he’d been feeding on.

Doc didn’t hesitate to run as Grian launched himself at where he’d been standing, a spray of spit and blood splashing the ground around him. He didn’t need to glance back to tell he was being pursued, the loud snarling and crushing of snow behind him was a pretty good sign.

Although it was a bad thought, Doc was kind of glad Grian didn’t spawn somewhere like the end or had an elytra. If his wings had the extra power, he was sure that he’d have already been caught and torn to shreads.

He reached the side of the peak and slipped, sliding down a few yards before rolling out of the way as Grian again threw himself at the spot Doc was last at. When missing his mark, the hermit let out a roar that threatened to send the snow crashing down. The action gave Doc an idea.

One that he might regret later.

“Hey! Over here!”

Grian turned his head sharply to the noise, baring his teeth. He blindly rushed after the target, getting narrowly close to digging his claws into the mad man’s leg as a result for his taunting.

Okay. Maybe don’t do that.

Doc kept his quick pace down the mountain, his adrenaline being the main thing stopping him from falling over and succumbing to the snow. He had to make it to the bottom, or at least to the half way point. On his way up, he’d passed a ravine. If he could make it there, he could maybe live to see another day and risk coming back for Grian when more prepared.

He kept zig zagging through his old footsteps, reaching the drop faster than expected. Quickly, he pulled out a rope and tied it around one of his arms. It was definitely going to hurt, but that would be a problem for future him. He took a few shaky steps back, glanced at Grian rapidly approaching, then sprinted over the ledge, throwing the rope out at a few rocks on the other side.

He screamed in pain as the rope secured in place, his arm dislocating in the process but otherwise he was safe. He spun around as he heard Grian screech, the creature lunging out at him. He succeeded in hooking his claws into his leg, burning the flesh with the terrible coldness from said claws. Doc almost lost his hold on the rope but managed to kick Grian off before he could be taken down with him.

He winced as Grian screamed, landing at the bottom with a loud thud. He was concerned until he saw the other slowly get back up, seemingly unharmed despite the visible broken twist in one of his wings. The two made eye contact for a while before Doc muttered an apology.

Then he screamed as loud as he could.

He forced himself out of the ravine as fast as he could, watching the vibrations of his echo stir the already loose snow from the hill. Almost beautifully, all of it came crashing down in an avalanche, rolling into the ravine and slowly filling it. He didn’t stay to watch it finish, limping quickly back down the mountain. He had to get to Ren. He’d probably get a yelling about the chat, but they could return later.

As soon as he was gone and the avalanche had settled, a bit of snow shifted. A bloodied hand tore out of the top, followed by the rest of the hermit. Grian wheezed and hissed quietly as he adjusted to the different pressure of this lower elevation. Shifting his still working wing, he surveyed the area to look for his quarry.

There. A lone greenish figure moving down the snow. He could also spot a faint trail of smoke dancing up from behind a hill.

The green one can wait.

He was curious about the smoke, and he wondered what, or who, was the cause of it.

Besides.... they might be a better meal to feast on before he finished off the green one.

#scattered au #hermitcraftheadcanons #kaine writes nonsense #kaine’s art #grian #docm77

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread 1

Merry Christmas, ya’ll!  

I wanted to do something for the holidays involving my slow burn boys.  Somehow, this rose to the top.  Here is the first taste of Louis and Will switching places in the pred/prey relationship, while in a fantasy setting.  ^_^

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread

by peachnewt

Part 1

Once upon a time, a mountain in the West grew so tall that it's peaks, covered in icy snow, would reflect the sun's light like a candle, lighting the valley with a golden glow an hour after sunset.  Thus, the mountain was called the Lantern Pillars and the inhabitants of the valley benefitted from the extra hours of light to store away supplies for the harsh winter and pursue artistic endeavors. Buildings and towers stretched like candles ever upwards, bearing banners and stained glass that could be seen in any blizzard.  The valley, called Wax Wake, became the jewel of the Pillars, a destination for many nobles and merchant passing through the mountains with their exotic goods.  

But one area of the Pillars lay in the lee of the various crags and slopes in the mountain range; a rocky, forested area called the Greyfells.  In that dim and cold stretch of land lived a giant name Louis, the Grey.

Louis was an imposing figure, standing almost eighty feet high with wide shoulders, ice gray eyes, and a silvery blond mane of hair.  This wasn't a "fee-fi-fo-fum" giant that barreled around the countryside in rough furs, demanding maidens to keep his cave tidy, or oxen to feed his hunger, or gold to upkeep his lifestyle.  His mother raised him and his two older brothers better.  He kept his cave in semi-chaotic order with baskets and hangers for his possessions, did his own laundry, varied his diet with vegetables and other forage-foods so he didn't need to spend as much money on meat, and he had a yearly stipend for protecting mountain passes from bandits and clearing out rubble for merchant caravans.  

But Louis still wore rough furs.  Why wear fine wool or linens when they would tear on the slopes?  Plus it was cold up there.

And Louis did have a temper. While he didn't boom "fee-fi-fo-fum", he did grumble like a storm when the local coffee house didn't count out enough beans to last until his next monthly grocery run.  It was basic math, take the normal about of coffee a person needed and scale it up by sixteen.  

When one passed through the mountain trails they saw deep pits from fists, slashes of red, and the strike of an axe blade bigger than a wagon. Sometimes, at night when the Lantern Pillars had dimmed the townsfolk could see sparks flying in the Greyfells, an axe hitting stone.  They heard tale of blood-thirst and violence from a surviving bandit that surrendered himself to the authorities in Wax Wake after the band he had been allied with had been destroyed.  

At one point in the early Autumn, Louis left for a week.  "Visiting family", he said to those left in charge of the mountain pass. When he came back, he had dark bags under his eyes, a large sack over his shoulder, and a posture akin to a starved wolf.  

"I'm working on something important," he growled at the human guards.  "I'll do my rounds, but don't expect anything else unless it's an emergency."  

It had been customary for Wax Wake to hire the giant to help clean the stain glass of their towers, since he could reach them so easily, and hang the new banners for the winter celebrations.  They dared not ask this year.  Louis stayed in the Greyfells.  

No One with any brains or sense of self preservation wandered near the Greyfells, or pried into Louis the Grey's business.  

***

"If I had any brains I would have stayed with a caravan and waited until morning," William hissed to himself and the blizzard.  His booted feet sunk into another snowdrift.

William had been traveling with a group of builders and craftsmen on their way to Wax Wake to peddle their wears and skills.  It was a rite of passage to try their hands in the jeweled city.  But their wagon axel broke halfway down the mountain.  They hadn't the supplies to repair it and civilization was half a day away.  William had offered to find help, and went off in the direction of Wax Wake.  Except a blizzard had descended; white, blinding, howling, turning him around until he could not tell north from south.  

Night had fallen.  William, still lost, squinted for any sign of light in the darkness.  He tucked his hands under his armpits, sinking his chin into the scarf around his neck.  

His nose, not his sight, had been his salvation.  William smelled cloves, ginger, and cinnamon on the breeze.  Cookies? William thought.  Spicebread? He hadn't eaten since noon and his stomach growled, bidding him onward.  

He saw a faint light in the same direction as the scent.  Shelter, he hoped.

William wove through the trees and scratching branches until the bramble broke into a clearing pure white. The wind died in the circle, the snow and moonlight pristine as it lit up a lopsided brown shack caked in bits of white.  William didn't care how badly made the domicile was, it was shelter from the cold, hopefully occupied with someone that could help him, and feed him.  

"Hello?"  William trudged on towards the shack.  Warm spice hung in the air along with the overwhelming aroma of sugar.  And the snow under his feet felt different, more like sand.  

He peered into the shack. A stub of a candle, as big around as his thigh, had been lit and took up the majority of the wooden floor.  No furniture, no people aside from him.  

"Anyone home?"

What an odd house, he mused.  Stepping inside, the smell of gingerbread surrounded him, yet the only piece of gingerbread he saw was a stale hunk the size of his fist to the side of the candle.  If no one was home, they wouldn't be grudge him a bit of gingerbread from the floor.

While chewing on the hunk of gingerbread, delicious, he examined the rest of the rough house. The vaulted roof had gaps filled in with a white paste burned from the candle.  His eye followed the wall, attached to the roof with a tilt, leaving another gap filled in with white paste.  The house wasn't hewn from stone, brick, or wood.  Was it wattle and daub?  Clay?    

Will tested a ragged, brown wall, scratching it with a cold fingernail.  "It's gingerbread?"  

The tiny scratch, however, was enough to test the structural integrity of the shack and find it wanting.

Down came the walls, burying William in giant slabs of gingerbread, snuffing the candle.  

---

Will woke stuck between a pool of slowly cooling wax and a slab of gingerbread pinning him across his stomach.  Will gasped, trying to fill his lungs.  Despite its confectionary nature, the slab of what had once been a roof, or perhaps a wall, could not be shifted no matter how much he struggled.  Pinned as he was, he couldn't eat his way out either.  He would either freeze to death, or suffocate.

Will bleated out into the night for help until his throat felt like sand and the wax under him had hardened.  Then he heard a rumble, vibrating the ground and making the edge of the roof dig deeper into his belly.

An avalanche?  

Instead Will heard of roar of frustration and the slab over him was lifted as if it was light as a feather.

A giant face, bearded, blond, and full of icy fury stared at him.  The whispered giant of the Greyfells dressed in furs and breath of frost.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"  

***

Louis had stomped through the forest towards the protective circle he had set up for his project.  He carried a bag of red candies and a pot of icing with a small trowel.  If he could get all of the decorations up tonight then he could sleep in the next day. When he arrived, he saw a set of footprints in the pristine snow, and the gingerbread house collapsed.  Of course when he lifted the roof he'd find a meddling human.  

"Are you fuckin' kidding me!?"  Louis snapped.  

"What?" breathed the human.  

Louis tossed the gingerbread roof to the ground where it broke into four pieces, and then pulled the brown haired human out with one hand.  He stared at little menace, eye to beady eye. "I've been trying to keep this damned house together with sugar paste and a prayer, and then you come along and nibble on it like a fuckin' mouse until it falls?!"

"It was an accident!" yelled the human, pawing at the large hand that held him with his one free arm.  The tips of his feet, sticking out the other end of the giant's fist, twitched.  "I was lost and looking for shelter and food. And the shack wasn't stable, I barely touched it!  And the only piece of gingerbread I ate had already fallen from the walls!"  

"Shack!?" Fury lit up the giant's eyes like lightning.  He squeezed the human just enough to make him wheeze.  "I worked all day on this house and you call it a shack?"  

"S-sorry, but by definition it was a shack.  Though a delicious one.  I'm sure you can build a better one in a few hours."  

Louis didn't want to admit that the fallen shack had taken him two days, and had been his best effort out of seven.  

"I'm out of patience, out of my mind, and out of coffee," growled Louis.  He felt cruel and liked it, tapping into the reputation giants had gained as blood-thirsty ogres.  "You picked the wrong day to piss me off.  Cause I also haven't eaten in the last five days."  

Will gulped, suddenly nervous at seeing the giant's perfect grin.  "There is something admiral to be found in fasting in protest or in pursuit of a passion.  Why break such a streak?  Why not six days?"  

"Oh, I don't know."  Louis let his growling stomach speak for itself, causing the human to blanche.  "Maybe because it'll make me feel better."

"I'm sure we can talk about this in a reasonable manner!" screeched the human as he was pulled closer to the giant's mouth.  

"Reason left long ago."  Around the same time he had left to visit home and got saddled with this ridiculous task.

"There is always time for reason.  Starting with introductions!  I'm William James Rowe from Brex."  William stuck his hand out in the giant's directions, as if expecting a handshake.  "And you are?"  

Louis unclenched his jaw and breathed in the smell of sweat, sugar, and fear.  "Hungry."  

Part 2 

#Giant/tiny #pred/prey #midnight snack #g/t writing #peachnewt

[keatsblue]

Want a Piece of Me?! - a Kiribaku Baking AU fic, pre-slash.

*** 

It was something he’d picked up from his mother, before she’d gotten too sick.

She’d let him roll out flour-dusted dough into thinned sheets, let him taste a batter mix or two on the tip of her spoon. Whenever he was tasked with packing the buttercream, he’d unerringly return to her with a dollop of icing on the end of his nose. She’d let out a laugh like windchimes as she wiped his face off with a multi-stained washcloth, would murmur, warm against the skin of his cheek as she kissed it—did my little dragon get greedy for some sugar again? Well, here’s some sugar!

Kirishima was her little dragon, and she’d made sure his early life was filled with candied nights and warm bellies, gingerbread castles with marshmallow spires.

After she passed, he kept it up to feel close to her.

He was far from an expert baker, but he knew his way around an oven. His hands were large and not the most suited to handling delicate fondant, but he managed. His arms were strong, good for hefting bags of fresh ingredients.

Pineapple upside-down. Triple-tiered, Italian wedding crème. Chocolate lavender truffles, topping his signature cherry cordial mousse. Delicate macaroons and finicky meringues, mirror glazes so seamless he could see his reflection. Kirishima baked his way through the entire grieving process, inviting his closest friends over for tastings, and he won.

I’m okay, mom.

He wasn’t certain when it had really started, this online business. Mina had actually made the first post, snapped the first photo. He hadn’t expected it to get a single comment.

It got hundreds. Then thousands.

People contacted him, wanting to know how they could make their own cakes look like that.

Kirishima obliged, of course. How could he not? He was going to bake anyway. Might as well help a few other amateur chefs while he was at it!

Mina helped him film. “I discovered you, so I’m your manager for life,” she’d say, with a wink. “Don’t forget about me when you make it big and become a world-famous baker, somewhere.”

World-famous, my ass, he always thought, whenever she’d suggest such a thing. He still made far too many mistakes, for that.

It was okay, most of the time. Many of the people who followed his little baking ‘show’ were more than understanding, and incredibly supportive. When he read their kind comments, it gave him a warm, fluttery kind of feeling—almost like one of his mother’s secure hugs.

There were always those few, though.

He was just getting off the rickety bus that stopped near his neighborhood when he saw it. He almost missed the last step on his way down, stumbling for a few paces as the telltale sound of a screen door sliding shut behind him signaled the bus’s departure.

However, Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Instead, his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone, where he’d just called up his latest baking stream.

xxxx: ur cakes suck a**

He frowned down at the comment, checking the timestamp. So, it was just posted a few minutes ago.

Huh.

It was obviously a troll, no doubt about it. They didn’t even have a profile picture to go with the nondescript name. And usually, usually, Kirishima would just let comments like that slide right off his shoulders.

But he’d had a bad day. And it was funny, how something so small could pierce his heart sometimes, a sharp spear to the mighty dragon’s soft underbelly.

It was safe to say, making his way up the rusted-out stairwell to his college-budget apartment took a little more energy than usual. He jammed his key into the lock with punishing force, twisted.

The door swung upon under his palms, and the familiar scent of his home wafted toward him, riding along the sudden gust of warm air escaping. Kirishima was careful to shut the door quickly, before too much of the heat was let out. Breathed in the fruit-sweet smell from his kitchen, so if nothing else, the familiarity of it could ease his scattered mind.

His phone chimed, before he could get too relaxed. When he checked the message ID, though, he couldn’t help but smile.

alienqueen: ughhhhh I hate this asshole already

alienqueen: obviously, he’s never tasted 1 of kiri’s cakes

ducktapes: kiri’s cakes <3 ahhhh my heart

sparksmcgee: dude same, want me 2 get sweet vengeance?

As soon as Kirishima’s smile had appeared, it vanished. He frantically opened the chat, his thumbs too large to type with the speed he needed.

There was no way to tell if Denki was serious. And his friend could do it, too—every day, Kirishima thanked his lucky stars he was on the excitable hacker’s good side.

kiricakes: no need!! it’s just a troll, guys

kiricakes: super manly of you to think of me, though

sparksmcgee: ur too nice, fams

sparkmcgee: guess the troll lives… for now

ducktapes: TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! THERE’S A-

alienqueen: aksnfkasnof

kiricakes: lolllllll

Before long, he was able to lose himself in mindless chatter. The antics of his friends never failed to bring his spirits up. He plugged his phone into one of the few outlets in his crummy apartment, embedded into the wall just over the kitchen counter, so he could continue the conversation even as his battery started to wane.

The hours grew long, though, and time was scarce mid-week for exhausted, assignment-laden college kids. It wasn’t a surprise when Denki soon begged off on some coding or another that he had to re-run, or when Sero and Mina similarly slipped away (they were researching something together for Comparative Physiology, it was all very much over Kirishima’s head). In the end, he was left with only his thoughts, and an empty kitchen.

He locked his phone, and the screen went dark. He could see his reflection in it, baggy eyes and downturned lips. A shock of red hair, which had once been midnight-black.

Like his mother’s.

Kirishima turned his head. In the low light, his appliances gleamed from their shelves. Almost mocking, in a way.

“My cakes don’t suck,” he said, to no one. His grin stretched wide, and he could tell from the burn of it that he was showing far too many of his sharpened teeth. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He set his phone to record, and made another cake. It was triple-tiered, funfetti, because that was the batter mix he had on-hand. He watched the batter rise within his dented iron pans with all the patience of a general considering the battlements—or perhaps, a dragon considering its’ hoard.

Any spare buttercream was packed into a dispensary, silken and primed to hold his creation together. He spliced it evenly between his cakes with a practiced ease, layer after layer.

Then, the whipped frosting. It was a simple recipe, one of the first he’d learned. He worked the whipping cream within a chilled bowl, adding scoop upon scoop of powdered sugar until the mixture obediently began to rise, forming soft peaks.

He made several batches, and then added some orange food coloring to each.

Fuck it. I’m in an orange sort of mood.

His second favorite color, after red.

All that remained was assembly.

… throughout the process, he talked.

Kirishima didn’t typically make a habit of speaking while he baked. He certainly didn’t speak while he recorded, but this—this was a special occasion. Soon, he found himself opening up in front of the camera like never before. He spoke of his mother, briefly. Of his love of baking, and how much he didn’t want to lose that little piece of her he had left.

It was all he had left.

The whipped frosting went on like a dream for him, a smooth and even ombre that when he finished, reminded Kirishima just a bit of an orange sunset. It was soothing, and right, and exactly what he needed.

He didn’t think much of posting the video, largely unedited, to his public account. His was still a small corner of the internet, after all—a solitary baking channel in a sea of thousands. Maybe even millions. How many people would even see it, really?

“Oh, and by the way, can you guys stop saying my cakes look like shit?”

It was only one cake.

With great effort, Kirishima stumbled his way to his bedroom. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, how much all that time in the kitchen had taken out of him.

Before his head even hit the pillow, he was out.

He dreamed of his mother’s sweets, and orange.

***

sparksmcgee: dude wake up

sparksmcgee: wake uppppp

sparksmcgee: KIRI

sparksmcgee: KIRI U GOTTA SEE THIS

sparksmcgee: KIRIIIII

sparksmcgee: fine, ignore me, Mr. Internet Sensation

sparksmcgee: wait I was joking, I was joking!

sparksmcgee: I’ll call u! I’ll do it!!

sparksmcgee: damn it kiri

sparksmcgee: just watch the fuckin’ video

sparksmcgee: https://twitter.com/Simplemachines_/status/1297739774795509761

***

Kirishima groaned, slamming a fist down on top of the source of that incessant beeping. It was too early in the morning for such ear-splitting noise.

But what was done couldn’t be undone. He was awake now, for better or worse.

He cracked one eye open, squinting against the bright blue light of his phone screen. Still bleary-eyed, he scrolled through all of Denki’s messages (seriously, man?) and pressed a thumb over the hyperlink his friend sent. It was probably just some dumb meme—

Wait. Wait.

That was his cake video from last night. And… that wasn’t all.

Some blond guy with an angry face took up the other half of the split screen, but he wasn’t doing anything. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Kirishima blinked. A… reaction video…?

He heard himself begin to speak, to layer the buttercream. Internally, he cringed.

Well. In his defense, he had been having one of those days—

He almost dropped his phone when the blond guy yelled at the top of his lungs.

“WHO WAS MEAN TO YOU?!”

Huh? Was this guy speaking… in Kirishima’s defense?

“WHO SAID YOUR CAKES LOOK LIKE SHIT?! POINT ‘EM OUT!”

Slathering on his nice, ombre whipped frosting, now. The blond guy (who was kinda cute, actually, even with his angry face) continued to watch and listen with rapt attention, occasionally letting out another unholy screech.

The video progressed to the part where Kirishima had begun describing his day, and really, he could’ve kicked himself. It’d just been a math test. He’d been excited at the time, because he’d gotten his grade back and hadn’t completely failed it, but now, he wondered. Who would want to listen to such inane, boring—

“YES! I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU, SHITTY HAIR!”

Shitty hair? Inadvertently, he felt the hand that wasn’t currently occupied supporting his phone drift up toward his hairline. He knew he applied a lot of gel, spiked it up on purpose. Surely it didn’t look that bad.

But even with that last comment, the guy had said a lot of nice things. And how manly, to post such a wholesome reaction video, where all the world could see?

His phone beeped again as a message banner flashed across the top of the screen. He opened it with a flick of his finger.

It seemed this time, Denki had messaged in the group chat. He didn’t have long to wonder whether his other friends had seen the video, either, messages were fired at rapid speed.

sparksmcgee: did you see it?!?? I found the guy! Your dream man!

sparksmcgee: his name is **drumroll**

kiricakes: denki, no

ducktapes: denki, YES

sparksmcgee: BAKUGOU KATSUKI, HE’S FROM JAPAN

alienqueen: Kiri go get your mans!!

sparksmcgee: if you want I can also get his credit card

kiricakes: DENKI NO

Bakugou Katsuki. Huh.

As his friends continued to bicker amongst themselves, Kirishima stretched out his limbs. He let out a soft sigh when his shoulders popped, already considering what he would bake himself for breakfast.

Maybe he’d have a slice of orange funfetti. And perhaps as he did, his mind would drift to an angry fan.

One he hoped to meet, someday.

#bnha #mha #kiribaku #baking au #bnha fanfiction #oneshot

[raisinbran79]

((( Please give feedback!! I'm a sad writer))))

The day came late for Jack Brown. The afternoon sunlight shot through his broken blinds pulling him from a restless slumber. Sometimes before he opens his eyes, he’ll forget where he is. He’ll forget his dread of embracing the day. 

Jack opens his eyes and in a haze looks towards his smartphone. His skeletal fingers were shaking and the camera app on his phone flashed a reflection at him. Jack brown could be mistaken for a corpse if it wasn’t for the bright, ice blue of his eyes. He cringed at his reflection and went to check the time.

Sitting up in his single bed, his lungs felt full. He pushes out a strangled cough. Jack wiped his face and saw the black sludge that had leaked out of his lungs. Jack felt a lump in his stomach whenever he thought about his grandmother dying of lung cancer. even though his grandmother had passed from lung cancer when he was 21, hence the reason he is now the sole resident of her rent-controlled apartment. Jack remembered the day he had found her in the kitchen slumped over a bowl of cheerios with her oxygen tank screaming for more air, as her lungs probably did. 

Jack looks around her apartment: It was a small place stacked with his grandmother's old paperba and erotica novels, her moth-eaten old furniture, and  pictures of her friends and family that he had never met. Evidence of a long and happy life should have been a comfort to Jack. He wanted to erase all the evidence of her. Make this his real home, yet he couldn’t bear to do it. These photographs lined every wall, even in the bedroom. He felt like a stranger here, like he didn’t belong. Like everywhere else, even in his own home, he had strangers staring at him. The constant loneliness of a million eyes glaring was now the only comfort he held inside of himself. 

Jack pulled himself out of bed, groaning with each pop in his bones. He picked up his uniform from the floor, A grey pinstripe button-up with SECURITY detailed on the front pocket and black slacks. In the pocket were a crushed pack of cigarettes and his father's red pocket knife, a reminder of the man he would never be. Beside him on the nightside table was a photo of Jack and his father. When his father was younger you could’ve sworn he was a movie star. Long blonde hair, and not even one crooked tooth. Jack pushed a hand through his dusty blond hair and ran his tongue over his yellowing teeth. He cleared his throat again and placed a cigarette in his mouth. One of his darker fantasies involved him waking up one morning and coughing so hard bits of his lung would spill out of his mouth, at least he wouldn’t have to go to work.

Jack made his way to the kitchen and opened up his fridge. The only thing cast in the fluorescent light was a dilapidated birthday cake. It had been Jack's birthday less than a week ago. Some of his coworkers had got together and purchased it for him. It was a vanilla cake ( he hated vannile) with pink icing. On the top of the cake, in red swirly lettering was “ Happy Birthday Jake!”  The mistake did not bother Jack, the subject of birthday cake had always been a sore spot anyways. 

His father Bo Brown, smelled like cheap barley and stale tobacco. A cigar always seemed to be perched in between his index and pointed finger. Jack, had always thought the way his mama, Eleanor Brown, was different and more delicate. As if in between those red painted fingernails she was holding a daisy. It was Jack’s sixth birthday and Eleanor had baked him a vanilla birthday cake with cream cheese frosting. His father, always being one for celebration, was very very drunk. What Jack didn’t understand was that drunkenness was the closest thing to goodness his father was capable of. The alcohol disillusioned his ambitions making him an unpredictable and stupid man.  

In the doorway of the kitchen his mother stood with the birthday cake. She was a round woman. 

Her eyes were like two round blue and green globes like the one in his classroom, and her cheeks round summer peaches. Jack did not receive his mother’s body type, instead he was cold and angular like his father. Eleanor stood with the cake on a platter and six red candles illuminating her smile in a heavenly halo. Bo sat at the kitchen table tapping his yellowed fingernails on the table and sipping his drink. The ice cubes clinked as he clapped his son on the back and yelled drunkenly 

“ Well, Ellie, our sons are finally a man!” he shouted, “ and a man deserves a man’s gift.” 

From his work jeans Jack’s father brandished a black box. When he opened it, a tiny red pocket layed there peacefully. 

“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little.. Young” his mother laughed sheepishly, her eyes brandishing terror. 

“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little young” Bo mocked as pure rage flashed across his face and he flicked open the knife and pointed it towards his wife. 

“ Don’t you ever tell a man what to do and what not to do with his son!” he drove the knife down into the table. 

The room was so quiet  Jack could hear the blood pumping in his father's veins. His father’s face erupted into a tepid smile as he handed Jack the knife

“ I’m only joking Jackie” his father clapped him on the back once again. 

Jack was too afraid to cry. However as his mother placed the birthday cake in front of him, he saw tears in her eyes. 

“ Happy birthday Jack” 

He was too young to feel this old, but even the twenty-minute walk to the bus stop winded him. He passed young millennials with their smartphones and turtlenecks. He didn’t know who he was a part of, 23 is an ever confusing age anyways. If Jack had it his way he’d be seventy already so there would be an excuse to be so miserable. 

Jack sat toward the back of the bus as he always did. In front of him was a younger couple. The girl had short bleached hair and was wearing an oversize jean jacket with the words `` Reject society!” painted in bright red. The boy had a shaved head and was wearing a green knit sweater. His large combat boots were sticking in the aisle. As the bus started to roll the girl pulled out a cell phone and a set of headphones. She put one earbud in his ear and one in hers. The boy smiled at her, and she giggled. She set her head on his shoulder and even though Jack couldn’t see her, he knew she was smiling. He felt strange looking at them. As if he was eavesdropping on their little world. Jack was jealous of them. He was jealous he didn’t have someone to rest their head on his shoulder. To hold hands as they walked home together. To smoke cigarettes on his balcony with. Jack wasn’t unattractive. It was that Jack was terrified of people. Isolation, Jack realized, brings a lot of things. Jack thought he would forget how to speak. That his words would shoot up in his throat, and stop just behind his teeth and he`d choke on them. That his tongue would never move again and turn to cement, that`d he'd die struggling for breath. Even if those things happen .. then he wouldn’t mind too much. 

The bus slowed to a stop and the young, in-love couple scurried off. Once again as Jack stood up, his bones popped and cracked. He exited the bus, gently apologizing as he bumped into people. They said nothing back. 

Most people were exiting the museum as he hurried up the steps. Jack loved how it looked. It was reminiscent of the old homes in the south. Tall white, marble pillars in front of the doors, large glass doors with gold trimming that never chipped. Long flower boxes on each of the windows that always held cigarette butts and grocery store flowers. The building itself held an undeniable glow to anyone that stood in its shadow. 

As he entered the building one of the curators, Quinn, gave him a polite smile. Quinn was tall with dark, dark brown hair. For what Jack knew, she was nice and very very smart. Quinn always knew when to speak and she was the best with guided tours. Jack thought maybe he could ask her out for a drink one night. Maybe they'd start talking about art, and the music they liked and what he wanted in ten years. Maybe she would kiss Jack outside of his favourite Chinese restaurant and maybe Jack would meet her parents. If not that, maybe they could just be friends. 

Jack didn't have time for all that, if Jack had the right words, maybe. 

He set his bags down on the front desk and clocked in at the computer. Jack sat down and stared at the setting sun through the long windows. It was just about time to lock the door. He crossed the large entrance hall, his work boots echoing through the museum. Jack pulled his ring of keys from his belt when all of sudden Quinn was barreling up the stars. Beige high heels in hand. Jack opened up the door as she reached the top.

" Jack!" She shouted, " You're a damn lifesaver!" 

" Is everything okay?" He said 

" Yes, yes I just forgot my wallet" 

Jack let her in, and she pushed past him walking toward the front desk. 

" It's my anniversary tonight, and I didn’t want to be without" she chuckled 

" Congratulations Quinn" he smiled 

" Thank you, thank you. Were going to his favourite Chinese place on the upper side -"

" The Golden Castle?" Jack asked 

" Yes! That's the one?" She asked 

There was a silent pause as Quinn dug through the drawers at the front desk. 

" Is it only you here tonight?" She asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. 

" Always is" 

Quinn lifted her wallet into the air triumphantly. Smiling beautifully. 

`` Well, Jack if you get too bored, there's a new exhibit just down the hall..``

She came close to him, too close. Jack tried not to be weird. But He saw her crystalline eyes reflect from the dying sunset and the small scar above her top lip. She had freckles too, hundreds of them dotted all across her face. When she smiled, her top teeth were crooked, it made her face look kind and warm. Jack looked up from her lips. 

`` Technically it’s a preservation piece, I haven’t even seen it. But, since you’re all alone” she said “ Maybe you could take a peak and tell me all about it.” 

Her body pressed against his as she leaned into his ear 

“Just don't let anyone find out, it`ll be our little secret. Okay?”

Jack beamed at her request . He put two fingers to his lips and then into the air.

“I promise, Scouts honour,” Jack said with fake confidence

There it was again, that little laugh, and that gorgeous smile. 

“ Have a good night Jack” she moved past him and out the door. She fluttered down the stairs quickly. 

“Hey, Quinn!” Jack called after her horsley 

“ Yea?!” Quinn called back from down the stairs 

“ Try the eggrolls” 

Quinn looked up at him, smiled once again and slipped into a taxi. Jack was still smiling when he closed and locked the door. He turned away from the door, and finally his cheeks fell. His face burned from smiling so hard. 

“Jesus Jack,” he thought to himself, ``Try the egg rolls?`

The night rolled on as it always does, slow and with no mercy. Jack had his feet up on the front desk and was scrolling through the 10 cameras set up on an old computer monitor. He moved his hand onto the mouse and clicked through the cameras carelessly. 

Jack knew that there was no way that anyone could get in or out of this place. His job was merely peace of mind to the faceless millionaire that owned this place. While he had never met his boss, he always pictured him as an overweight man in a tight navy suit. Usually smoking a thick cigar and having a large shiny bald head. Kind of like the old mob bosses in his father’s favourite movies. 

 All of a sudden, there was a slight itching behind his ear. He dragged his dirty fingernails behind his ear, trying to soothe the itch. The more he scratched however the more that erupted into a burning hot inflammation. He whipped his head around and smacked his ear violently. 

What the fuck, What the fuck, what the fuck? Jack screamed to himself in his head.  

Without warning, a tiny black beetle fell from Jack’s ear and into the palm of his hand. Its exoskeleton was hard and smooth. It’s mouth curled into two lewdly sharp pincers, 

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat and he threw the beetle on the ground. It scurried toward the far end of the hallway. Panting, Jack watched as it’s tiny body disappeared into the shadows. 

It was then that he noticed that there was a long shadow running up the hallway walls. Had he forgotten to turn off a light? No way Jack thought to himself. All the lights in the museum only used two switches. One for one-half of the museums’ lights, the hallway on his left, and another the hallway on his right. But one ominous light burned through the darkness. Jack stood and went to investigate. Just as he stood from his chair, the burning in his ear ceased. 

Once again his boots echoed in the empty hallways. Clump..clump….clump.

The source of the light was nowhere to be seen. Yet long shadows still ran up and down the walls. Jack turned a corner and finally there it was. The light was shining behind a large security door labelled " The Art of curse and passion DO NOT OPEN" 

This was the new exhibit Quinn had told him to venture into. Jack had made it a habit to stick to the rules. Even though Jack didn't move an inch, the door seemed to be getting closer to him with every beat of his heart. 

Lub dub….lub dub...lub dub

He outstretched his palm now drenched in sweat and grasped the polished door handle. 

When he pushed open the door, a blinding white light pierced into his eyes. Jack screamed at the pain and tried to cover his eyes but it seemed as if his hands had melted to his sides. 

In a matter of seconds, his eyes adjusted to the light.

The room was empty except for one painting. It was in a midsize thin brown frame. The painting depicted a woman. Her face was cold each angle smoother than the next. The woman's hair was deep deep obsidian and her eyes crystal white, almost as translucent as glass. A melody of flowers pooled around her, encircling her in the richest colours of flaming crimson Rose's, Bold purple violets and sapphire forget me not. She was the most beautiful woman, Jack had ever seen and once again without moving a muscle, the painting seemed to move closer to him with each beat of his heart. 

His hand hovered to her face, begging to touch her skin. Jack's body burned for her, itching like a junkie wanting a fix he yearned for her more than anything he's ever wanted. 

A soft voice came slithered over Jack's neck and into his ears 

Touch She begged Touch me 

With no second thought, Jack was removed and there only lay his desire. His long skinny finger brushed what he hoped to be canvas but instead was supple flash. Jack jumped back his heart hammering in his chest, closing his eyes tight praying hoping that this would all be a dream. He dug his fingernails deep into his palms praying that maybe that would wake him. 

Yet when he opened his eyes, the painting had gotten closer and closer. The fear left his body as a receding tide. He was left face to face with Her. Jack’s breath left him in fleeting gasps. Her face moved, looking through him and at him all the same.  Her blushing rose lips grazed him. Jack melted at the feeling of her tongue grazing his bottom lip.

She tasted like springtime. Fresh warmth after months of bitter cold and for the first moment, Jack's world was no longer colour blind. He was locked into her. 

Help me Jack her voice was smooth and kind,  I know, I know how lonely you are. How your heartaches as mine does. How the emptiness fills you like desire, I feel it too Jack. Please, please let me out. 

I can’t Jack thought to himself I’ll lose my job 

Please Jack, she begged, you hate it here, you despise this place. 

From the bottom corner of the painting, a milky white hand appeared. It outstretched and wrapped itself around Jack’s cheek. Digging her palm into his jagged face, seemingly touching him from the inside. 

I’ll save you Jack if you save me first. 

There was no more Jack, only the paint that had seeped from her lips into him. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his father's pocket knife, assuming his destiny and releasing Her from her cage. 

Jack rolled her up and cradled her in his arms. He felt her warmth radiate all over him. 

Jack left the room, now dark as if the lights had never been on. His boots clomped once again, faster as he sped towards the door. Jack saw that hours had passed by him while he was in the room ; dawn illuminated the museum. To the front doors in which he quickly unlocked and threw open. The screech of the security alarms rang in his ears and he pumped his legs, not worried about turning off the alarm, not worried about anything. Jack's lungs felt as if they were made of lead and his blood pure and burning adrenaline

 Feeling the bright morning dew slick on his skin and the light finally breaking through his fog. 

Faster Jack, they can’t catch us 

Jack ran so fast that the gods would never touch him. His long legs burned and begged him to slow down but Jack had what he never did, purpose and love. 

It was too early for passersby to see him. The occasional morning jogger passed judgement at his uniform. They assumed he was just another nighttime degenerate crawling into the day. 

He ran even faster. 

Jack entered his apartment. The silence was crowded by the blood pounding thick in his ears. Jack stood for a moment. Revealing how the faces in all of his grandmothers' photographs seemed to smile at him now. 

Unravel me Jack she said 

All at once Jack rushed toward his kitchen table, swiping the ashtrays and stacks of paperbacks onto the ground. He opened her onto the table and was once again swept by her burning beauty. 

He pulled up a chair and sat there at his table staring intently at the painting. Memorizing each curve, each line of her face. Tears burned at his eyes, and he wept onto her. 

It’s okay Jack, You’ll never have to feel that way again, I just need one more thing

Anything, absolutely anything Jack smiled though his gut-wrenching sobs. 

You must devour me

The life he lived before her was black and grey and now he breathed technicolour.

Dust settled on the table around him and on his fingertips. Spider’s and dust mites scurried up and down his furniture and the carpet. Large moths had fluttered onto my clothing, slowly but surely tearing away my cotton uniform. Leaving me a bare corpse dissolving into dust.  I was disappearing as if his body was becoming weaker, and weaker with each passing breath. 

You must devour me. Her voice echoed through his brain, and Jack became aware of what he must do. 

Jack moved his skeletal frame towards his fridge. His stomach was caved inward, and his ribs jutted out at all angles. Jack’s stick-like fingers grasped the door and opened it. The cartilage in his knuckles cracking like ice on a pond. 

In his fridge, behind the cake, there was a glass cup of cream and a mason jar of honey. Jack used his failing strength to set the cream and the honey on the table. He slumped down once again. 

Jack lowered his head to her face one last time.  Pressing his forehead to hers and his chapped lips to hers. All he tasted was canvas. 

Please don’t leave me he thought, I love you

Jack, don’t you see, now I’ll always be apart of you

You’ll never be alone again 

He stuck his fingers into the jar of honey and slathered her face encompassing her in sweetness. Delicately he ripped a piece of her and stuffed it past his lips. Dissolving the canvas into a soft pulp. His back molars did not dare tear the paper to bits. His stomach screamed for fullness. The ball of dissolving canvas lodged itself below his Adam's apple. Jack poured the cream down his throat and colour entered him. With ravenous lust , piece after piece Jack began to gorge himself stuffing every last piece inside him. He ate around her face, devouring the prismatic flowers first. Slathering each piece in gobs of honey and gulping down cream. Sputtering whiteness from his full mouth. Jack paused when it came to her waxy and pointed face. He ripped larger, and larger portions from her face until the only pieces left were her eyes. He held the last pieces of her in his hands and dipped her in the honey. He swallowed so much of her she gripped his throat. The yellow liquid dripped down his chin and onto his wrists, the long self inflicted scars of his youth were bathed in sweetness. 

Never again Jack promised himself,

Never again the woman's voice promised him. 

If alone was a feeling, loneliness was a hole in the bottom of his stomach an ache in his tooth. An itch in the back of your eye. I had always had this hole, this ache and this itch. 

As she entered me, as her color filled me….

Jack brown was never lonely again. 

….

#writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #love #horror #harry potter

[legendofmischief]

Title: 2013 Harry Potter Christmas Drabble Challenge [2018 Repost]

Author: @writemeashot / @holykryptonitekitten / @legendofmischief

[MattsMarshMello on fanfiction.net]

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing/Characters:  James & Lily Potter, Severus Snape, Harry, Ron, & Hermione, Ginny Weasley, Draco & Narcissa Malfoy, Neville & Luna, Draco, Astoria & Scorpius, George & Angelina, Harry & Dobby, Lily & Snape, and George & Fred.

Rating: Teen [Due to some heavier themes such as loss/grief/death etc]

Notes: Hi there! This is a holiday drabble collection I did for a challenge on fanfic.net [Ash’s Monthly Competition]. The challenge was to write a short drabble while listening to specific Christmas songs, of which I will also link. This is old writing so be aware of possible growth (hopefully lol) between this collection and how I currently write.

1. Lily’s Boy Child

Lily smiled at James as he brought her a cuppa, she let go of the muggle sales magazine she had been looking at to take it.

"I'm thinking of having a white crib, what do you think James?"

He sat down next to her with his own cup of tea and peered over at the magazine.

"Whatever you think looks good Lily, just make sure to have some blue and red in there."

He put an arm behind her on the couch as he took in how she studied the items in the catalog, he couldn't believe that she was already glowing after just finishing her first month of pregnancy. She smiled and leaned into him as she picked out what decor she wanted.

After a quiet silence, she suddenly looked up at her husband.

"I want to name him Harry."

Song: Mary's Boy Child, Character(s): James & Lily Potter

2. Severus’s Shameful Night

He stumbled into Spinner's End, and fell to the floor gasping for breath. He couldn't believe he had accomplished what he had. He did it. He killed.

Oh Merlin, the woman's screams wouldn't stop echoing in his head, causing him to sob and cringe. Tears tracked down his cheeks as he hugged himself and another sob escaped him as a horrible thought struck him.

What if it was Lily.

What if she had been the target during the death eater mission? What if she had been the Dark Lord's chew toy?

"No, no, no...never Lily...never Lily." He vowed to himself that it would never be her on the receiving end of a death eater's wand. He would make sure of that, somehow.

He lost himself to his tears of grief and shame, falling asleep in the fetal position on the floor in front of the door to his house.

Song: Oh Holy Night, Character(s): Severus Snape (Teenage/Young Adult)

3. Christmas Of Laughs

It was such a breath of fresh air, for them all. She and Ron had help Harry decorate Grimmauld Place for Christmas, they were spending it together this year. Just the three of them. Some people understood, others didn't but it didn't matter. They were celebrating a freedom from having to plot, dodge danger, and wage war against a mad man. She couldn't help but snort some of her hot chocolate as she laughed and spluttered. She was watching Harry and Ron trying to catch the enchanted elf on the shelf and the little pixie like toy was giving them a run for their money. Hermione proceeded to cough, laugh, and sputter.

"Oh shut it Hermione, I don't see you over here helping us." Ron replied to her just before he dove at the elf, missed and went sliding head first into the sooty fireplace. A curse was heard before he emerged coughing and half covered in black soot.

"Ron's right Hermione, if you were helping we'd have caught the damn thing already." Harry said before taking a running charge at the elf, only to slip on a rug and fall back onto the Christmas tree knocking it over and getting tangled in the lights.

Hermione lost it then, to a fit of tear filled giggles.

Song: Happy Xmas (War is Over), Character(s): Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, & Harry Potter

4. Working On The World

"Draco darling, what do you want for Christmas?"

He looked over the top of his tumbler of scotch at his mother, an annoyed scowl on his face.

"Mother, you cannot afford what I want for Christmas."

"Try me Draco, you might be surprised."

He rolled his eyes and tossed back the rest of his liquor.

"I want peace. I want a better world for my future children."

A smile graced Narcissa's face and she came to sit beside of her son.

"That will take longer than a shopping trip, but together we can work towards that goal."

Ginny stared out her frosted window, listening to the sounds of Christmas prepping going on in the Burrow. In the past she would have been downstairs eagerly helping her mother, but not this year. It was the first Christmas after the Second Wizarding War and she was ponderous. Was it safe to move forward? Would there always be a villain in the world? In her life? She hoped not. She just wanted to live a normal, peaceful life with Harry. She supposed that could happen. Putting her finger to the icy glass, she smiled after glancing at the acceptance letter on bed. She would be playing for the Holyhead Harpies after she finished Hogwarts.

Song: My Grown Up Christmas List, Character(s): Narcissa & Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley

5. Brave Stars

"They are so pretty tonight, don't you think?"

Neville looked up from his dessert and followed his date's gaze upward to the clear night sky filled with sparkling stars.

"Oh, yes they are bright tonight." He gave her a smile, he had always appreciated Luna's ability to notice the little things.

After finishing their dessert he asked her dance to the slow music in the background, she accepted and they started to sway.

"Um,...Luna...I.."

Her dreamy voice stopped him from completing his sentence.

"Oh yes Neville, I would love to. Perhaps a mountain retreat will do."

Neville blinked owlishly for a bit before piecing together her abstract sentence, yet another he adored about her was the riddle like way she spoke.

"I've never done that, but I would love to with you." He caught her eye, smiled and then leaned down bravely to seal their lips in a chaste first kiss. She gave him butterflies as he felt her smile against his lips.

"It's a date then."

Song: Do You Hear What I Hear?, Character(s): Neville Longbottom & Luna Lovegood.

6. Santa Is Stealing Mummy

Scorpius snuck down the stairs silently after hearing the floo activate. He snuck towards the door and peaked through into the room. His eyes went wide as he saw Santa, and he was about to dart forward and shout out loudly with excitement but the other figure that appeared stopped him. It was his Mum and she leaned up on tip toe, smooching Mr. Santa for what seemed like the longest time. A loud gasp came out of his mouth, startling the two in the room and then he shot off like a rocket up to his parents' room screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"DADDY! DADDY IT'S A 'MERGENCY! SANTA IS STEALING MUMMY! DADDY! DADDY WHERE ARE YOU!? IT'S A 'MERGENCY! SANTA KISSED MUMMY! DADDY!"

Meanwhile downstairs, Astoria and Draco were clutching their sides and wheezing slightly as laughs wracked them, tears sliding down their cheeks. Once they were discovered, Scorpius pouted and sulked until it was time to open his presents. Then all was forgiven.

Song: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, Character(s): Scorpius, Astoria, & Draco Malfoy.

7. Eggnog Dance Party

"George really? Don't you think it's a little early for eggnog?"

"Nonsense Angelina, it is never too early for eggnog."

He gave her a sexy smile and handed a glass over to her.

"Cheers darling!" After downing a few swigs, he flicked his wand towards the stereo and it started to play up beat music. George started to dance around, doing his own little sway and jig while being careful not to waste a precious drop of eggnog.

Angelina watched him over the top of her own glass, preferring to drink then dance but he suddenly came towards her and grabbed her forward to join him. A giggle erupted from her throat and she got lost in the way his eyes sparkled when they were together.

"Oh George, I don't think I will ever get tired of you."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, "That's what they all say darling."

"Of course they do." She rolled her eyes while a smirk toyed at her lips before she draining her glass and started to dance around, letting loose and just being in the moment with boyfriend.

Song: Christmas (Baby Please Come Home), Character(s): George Weasley & Angelina Johnson.

8. Dobby’s Tree

Harry finished hanging the last ornament and readjusting some tinsel before waving his wand to light the little tree. A grim smile formed on his face as he took in the sight of the tree next to the gravestone nestled in the sand.

"I'll put a charm on it so that it will last, its not near enough to give you what you deserve Dobby..but I suppose it will have to do."

Harry fidgeted with the little Christmas tree some more, he wanted it to be perfect.

"Oh, I had Hermione teach me how to knit this year...I made you a present." After an awkward pause, Harry continued. "I suppose I should open it for you."

He slowly unwrapped and opened the gift he had brought with him, and his smile brightened slightly as he gazed at the little bright colored knit hat.

"I managed to make a hat for you Dobby, it's not the best but it's as good as I can do for now."

Using a sticking charm, he stuck the hat to the top of gravestone.

"Let's see if I can get any better at it between now and next year, yeah? Merry Christmas Dobby."

Harry dusted off some sand from the stone before turning on the spot and apparating away before he choked up with tears for his friend.

Song: One Little Christmas Tree, Character(s): Harry Potter, & Dobby's Grave.

9. Beautiful Christmas Lily

"Well, sing a muggle Christmas song for me. Please Lily?"

A cherry smile met those words, before little Lily replied.

"Sure Severus." Little Lily Evans began to sing 'The First Noel' while sitting in the courtyard of Hogwarts by the fountain. It was this moment that little Severus Snape sat stunned and was sure that he was friends with an angel. Her voice was so pretty and it brought a little blush to his face. He laid his head down on her lap, which prompted her to start threading her fingers through his hair. He was content to listen to her forever, even if she attracted a small crowd of students who listening but kept their distance.

Once she had finished the song, he sat up giving her a brilliant smile before conjuring a bouquet of red poinsettias with a pure white calla lily in the center and handing it to her.

"You have a wonderful voice Lily."

A blush crossed her cheeks as she took the flowers from him before quickly kissing his cheek, "And you have wonderful magic Sev. Oh no, we better get to class before the bell rings."

Lily carefully put the flowers into her school bag before darting off, leaving Severus sitting in the snow with rosy cheeks, wide eyes and shy smile on his face.

Song: The First Noel, Character(s): Severus Snape & Lily Evans.

10. Two Ginger Boomers

"GEORGE AND FRED WEASLEY!"

"Run George, run!" Hissed Fred as he kept pace with his twin, he glanced back at the Burrow and winced as bright flashes appeared from inside.

"Oh yeah Fred, with that mad clock she has she'll find us anywhere!" George replied then cackled as he heard more shouts and a never ending string of booms and crackles.

A groan came from Fred, "Perhaps we should break our hands on that damn clock eh?" he ducked as a stray firecracker whizzed over his head.

"Eh, naw. Hey Fred, do you think we-"

"-should've moved the firecrackers into Dad's garage like Mum asked us-"

"-due to the heat from her cooking the fire place?" George finished, a quick beat passed before Fred grinned wickedly.

"Naw! This is much better!"

Song: Six White Boomers, Character(s): George & Fred Weasley.

TAGS: @wickednerdery @manip-loki @succumb-to-your-king @nuggsmum @vargrlokean

No idea who to tag on this, sorry y’all

#holykryptonitekitten #legendofmischief #writing #old writing #holiday writing challenge #holiday fanfic #fan fic #fanfic #christmas drabbles #drabble #harry potter #james potter #lily potter #severus snape #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #narcissa malfoy #lily evans #dobby #dobby's grave #angelina johnson #scorpius malfoy #astoria greengrass #astoria malfoy #neville longbottom #luna lovegood #hermione granger

[daughterofsnowandice]

Lost: Part I

Cascading torrents of snow raged past the company of men, struggling up a path already deep with winter. The wind howled, making it impossible to hear any orders that were given. All any of them could do was continue to march forward.

It had been three days since they’d ventured into these accursed mountains, a range of snowy peaks that seemed to go on without end. None could say if they were on the right trail any longer. The mountain paths twisted and turned deceptively, and in the pale white of the blizzard, all sight was lost.

Following at the rear of the company, struggled a man named Takeda. A boy really, conscripted from home less than three months ago. He pressed against the snow, but still couldn’t help falling behind. It had been like this since they’d begun this trek, and none of the others seemed to care. He suspected he could fall, right here and now, until the snows covered him up, and none of them would even notice.

He gritted his teeth, the wind blowing a cold into them that made him shiver with pain. Takeda paused for a moment, trying to calm himself. They would surely die here, his mother had said as much when she’d watched him go off to war.

“Those mountains are the death of many.” She’d said.

Through the fear, a sense of clarity washed over him. Keep going his mind demanded. Don’t stop, don’t rest, if you do you’re already gone. A grunt escaped him as with effort he began to march once more. He couldn’t tell his mother she was wrong if he was dead. More than anything, he wanted to go back.

They pressed on, staring at the ground immediately before them as it was useless to try to look ahead. They all seemed determined, stubbornly so to get through this pass. They’d already lost men, fallen, either over ravines or in their own tracks, left to freeze. It wouldn’t have taken them long to die, he supposed there was some comfort in that, though it had been enough to make him pick up the pace at the time.

Still he lagged behind, he was finding it difficult to see the man closest to him anymore. He was only a vague shape shrouded by the snow. “Wait!” He called frustrated, doing his best to forge ahead. They didn’t hear him, or if they did, they didn’t care enough to turn their heads. He called again and got the same response. Now he couldn’t see them anymore, all he could do was follow their tracks. “Please!” He demanded.

Just then, a stronger gust of wind then before crashed against his face causing him to turn, to shield himself from the storm. They would die here. The next lot of unlucky travelers would find their bodies, still standing, frozen to the bone. However as he averted his gaze from his comrades, he thought he saw something now off in to his right. It may have been the wind, who could tell, but he also thought he heard a fair voice crying out, not dissimilar from his own.

“Hello?” he called at the top of his frigid lungs. The shape came more into focus, moving up the path beside them.

“Please! Can anyone hear me?” There was definitely a voice, unless he was imagining things in his delirious cold. It was the voice of a young woman.

He turned to his comrades. “Stop! There’s someone here!” he cried, and began to move through the snow toward the woman. “Hello! Can you hear me?” He yelled.

He couldn’t make her out until he seemed to be inches away from her. Out of the snow, he saw a huddled, shivering young woman, almost a girl really looking about the same age as he. She was dressed in white and grey, a hood obscuring much of her face for all the good it did. Dark hair fell out of the hood, and she was carrying something, bundled close to her chest.

She placed a hand on his shoulder for support, looking inches from death. Her lips were pale, as if she was already beginning to freeze. “Thank you.” She said. “For stopping. I don’t think I could have made it much further.”

“Are you lost?” He asked, having to yell over the blizzard.

The woman nodded. “Yes, I was returning to my father when the storm blew in.”

He was glad to have found her, but the truth of it was, he wasn’t sure how much better off she was now. If things kept up, surely they’d all freeze together.

“You can come with us. If you think it best.” He called. “I can’t promise anything though. We’re just as lost.”

Her teeth chattered, and she seemed hesitant at first before nodding again. “I suppose our chances are better together.” She mused. She then looked at the bundle in her arms, and then to him. “Would you hold this please? I need to readjust my pack.” Indeed it looked as if the sling on her back was nearly about to topple her over. He nodded and she handed the bundle to him with shaking hands the bundle.

Wrapped tightly, he could make out the hint of a tiny face within that bundle. A baby. What madness had driven this girl into the mountains with a babe? That the baby had yet to freeze was a miracle, though it was crying something awful. He smiled at it as best as his own chattering teeth could allow, and looked at the girl. She was violently trembling now as she fumbled with her pack.

She wouldn’t last much longer it was clear to see. He shifted so he could hold the baby in one arm, and shimmied himself out of his cloak. With his free hand he wrapped it around the girl. Who looked at him with immense gratitude, the tears that formed at her lids nearly freezing, frosting at her lashes. “You’re too kind.” She said, finishing with the pack and bundling herself in his cloak.

He handed her back the baby and she smiled. “Thank you. I’m lucky to have run in to you.”

He smiled back. “Don’t be so sure yet. The blizzard is only getting worse.” He shuddered.

She nodded, but then fixated on something over his shoulder. She pointed with a gloved finger. “Is he with you?”

Takeda turned, and he saw the outline of one of his comrades, marching towards him. The two forced their way through the snow, up nearly to their knees and Takeda began to make out the form of Kasai, one of the older men in their company.

“Takeda, you get lost,” He snarled in question. It was just his way, there was no real anger there. He then saw the girl at his side and continued, “Who’s this?”

“No sir, just a little behind.” He gestured at the girl. “She said she got lost on the way to her father’s.” she looked at Kasai and bowed the best she could, still shivering.

Kasai harrumphed. “You’re a damned fool to come up into these mountains girl, especially during a storm. But come along, there’s shelter up ahead.”

“There is?” Takeda asked, and it was enough to make the old man laugh.

“Course there is, that’s why I came back for your fool hide. Found a fort up ahead, built right into the side of the mountain. No lights in the windows. Probably abandoned. Who’d want to garrison a fort in this god forsaken place.” He waved them on with a hand. “Come on, before we all end up frozen.”

They made no argument, and hurried after him as they trekked through the snow. It only took a minute or two for them to see the looming shadow of the fort. It was large, enough to host forty men Takeda thought, with garrisons and towers built into the very stone. It looked old, ancient even. As they got closer, he saw writing on one of the walls, and recognized it as an older script no longer in use. His gaze lingered, but Takeda ached to enter the warmth of the indoors and he continued on his way, not bothering to pause. The doors were open, the last of the men to come through waiting for them.

The wind gave one last, terrible, gust, and he thought for a moment the girl might lose the baby, blown away by the wind. But she held tight, and entered first through those ancient gates, with Kasai and Takeda close behind. The doors shut, the howling of the wind becoming a dull whistling thrum, and everyone shook off the snow dusting their cloaks.

It wasn’t warm. Not even close, but compared to the outside, it was a haven. Any shelter in a storm, his mother would say. A wide grin graced his face. The girl, who was tending to her baby, glanced at him with curiosity, but seemed to think better than to ask.

It would have been hard to explain anyway he thought. To think he’d been about to give up and freeze a few yards away from shelter. What a laugh.

#fiction #writing #oc #original character #original world #horror #snow #winter #ice #takeda #kasai

[thepinkmario]

in the name of sin|a hoseok ff

Have you...ever sinned?

I have...and I don't know...if I regret it or not.

•part one of two•

6:15PM•Train Station

Grey above, grey below, stale air, a dim beam of light flashes and casts a dull goldish hue on the crowded platform.

Half of the platform is occupied by a busy crowd of weary people with distress and fatigue plaqued all over their stern faces. The other half of the platform is occupied by the frantic people's tenebrous shadows that buzzed around the platform as their owners paced under the dim, shady beam of light.

The middle aged man who held a twisted grimace forcibly seized an ordinarily looking girl's threadbare hoodie.

The man's eyes lecherously marvelled across her thinly clothed body. A wide yet revolting grin formed across his lips as he firmly pulled himself closer to her.

"Young lady, it is not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, go blame your father, he was the one who promised that he'll return my money within a month, now he told me that you're going to pay for him"

His eyes still exploring her bonyly skinny body, like carefully observing an exquisite bijou, trying to capture every inch of her in his narrowed almond eyes.

"Ajjussi...please......"

The girl cried stoutly, trying to trigger some sort of attention from the frantic crowd that hastened from one side of the station to the other.

No reaction.

Not one person turned her direction. Not even a peak of curiosity, or a subconscious wonder that coincidentally scanned towards her direction. Innocent-looking young toddlers sensibly followed their parents' busy pace and held on to their serenity, the argument between the ticket seller and the mischievous youngster who laid their hand on someone else's ticket continued.

Her heart sank, she is completely dumbstruck by how harsh this society is.

"Ajjussi! Please let go!"

The girl cried again, though just as she expected, the fervent crowd was not disturbed at all. Her clenched teeth chattered as she stumbled her way back, trying to get a wisp of air that's not polluted by that middle aged man's cigarette breath.

The girl's nerves racked, she doubt she can get herself out of this.

"I really...really don't have any money. Please...it is my father's fault, it is all his fault, he was the one who borrowed your money, so why are you harassing me?!"

The girl trembled as she spoke, the feverish clamour of the crowd clouds through her ears like a haze forged of toxic.

She feels like a ghost...it seems as if no one can hear her, nothing can be distracted by her, everything is running smooth, just as usual. The girl bit her bottom lip as she made her decision, she really doesn't have a choice but to use this method.

The girl took a deep, long breath and screamed on top of her lungs,

"Who lost their wallet?!"

And suddenly, everything stopped.

The university students stopped their muffled murmurs of the station name, the ticket-seller and the mischievous youngster's vigorous fight halts...

Everything ceases, like a dying tide gradually falling into tranquility.

Everyone on the platform have their attention fully fixed on the girl. The girl gulps as she tentatively marvels around stunned.

The gathering crowd grows larger and larger around her. The collective silence continued for a minute or two, and then, just as if they previously rehearsed, the crowd all burst out clamouring at the very same time.

"Oi young girl it was me!"

"Young girl!! I was there!! That must be my wallet!!"

"You shameless liars!! That wallet is mine!!"

The girl settles her thoughts and speedily steels herself,

"Ajjussi, I saw you pick that black wallet up and shoved it in your pocket!!"

The girl accused in an incredibly steady tone, a sense of relief wreathed over her as the commotion developed.

"How shady old man!! Pass me that wallet!"

A voice rose, followed by the crowd forcefully tightening the circle, giving the girl a fantastic opportunity.

The girl skilfully shot her hand towards the middle-aged man's pocket and seized the wallet within two seconds. Before anyone could react he has already took the fat deck of cash out and flung it in the air.

The wreath of green and orange encircled the wildly excited crowd. The bright, eye-catching colours melded together into a quaint shade of navy and blended smoothly in the clear Autumn night sky, like a sudden stroke of sunlight across the boundless ocean of dimness.

Unfortunately, the girl did not have the time to admire this arresting view, as soon as the desperate hands shot furiously towards the gliding notes of cash, she bent her body and swiftly ducked out of the sturdily bonding crowd.

Phew

The girl sighed of relief as she dashed from the frenzied crowd to the other side of the station. She quickly slipped into a dark corner to take her breath,

She has made it, she has escaped the danger......

I should be safe now......

She thought to herself and grinned as the green light flashed, signifying a train's arrival. The girl zipped her hoodie up and was just about to head out of the station when she suddenly felt a tight, firm grip on her shabby hood,

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

The girl could clearly hear the sharp clacking noises of the cloth that patched her hood together getting gradually torn as the grip tightened.

The girl turned around, unsurprisingly, the middle-aged man stood there sternly fixing his gaze on her. Tints of anger blandly webbed over his deadly stern face, the girl can't help but blink when a serrated silver object reveals it's blinding shimmer as the middle-aged man rolls his sleeves up,

"I gave you a chance young girl, you were the one who didn't appreciate it"

He took a step forward and pulled a cold curve across his plump lips as he pointed a knife towards the girl,

"I told you not to try anything funny...but you still did. Hmm, I'm sure you won't be lonely down there in hell, your mother has been down there waiting for you for five years now, and your father will follow you there soon to keep you company"

The girl's defensive gesture froze as the word 'father' strikes her ears, it all because of him, that old, irresponsible bastard......

The middle-aged man smirked and took more steps forward,

No...no...

His footsteps grows louder and louder as he firmly approaches,

I am too young to die...

The knife's sharp, serrated edge scintillated as a beam of the arriving train's headlights caresses over the girl and the middle-aged man forging a glaring white hue,

I don't deserve this!!

At that very moment, the man raises his knife up high, ready to prick a hole through the girl's thin body.

The train's roaring clangour reverberated across the girl's fuzzy mind as thoughts of resent and bitterness violently churned.

At that moment, she cannot distinguish thoughts, but the flickering desire to live is extraordinarily clear.

The girl subconsciously swung her arms against the man's stomach and pushed the man towards the cavernously immeasurable railway with full force, as the man forcefully threw the arm that held the knife towards her.

The man yelled, like the echo of a rock that stumbled it's way down a cliff, filled of anguish hopelessness.

The man fell straight off the platform and a thunderous clunking sound followed. The girl gasped out of horror as she realise what she has done.

The tips of her fingers shivers like the silver beads on a dreamcatcher swaying in a vigorous hurricane.

The girl raced towards the railway, attempting to save that man, but just as she reached the skirt of the platform a train dashed across her eyes and drove into the station, over the man.

The girl quivered uncontrollably, she stiffly lowers her head, starring doe eyedly traumatised at the huge blood stain that has just besmirched across her shabby hoodie that looks slightly neater with the lurid shade of red adorned over it.

That girl was......

me.

• • • • •

The night fell quietly into place as I rushed home. I tightened my grip around myself as my mouth continued to chatter from the bitter winter day.

I swiftly flicked the heater as I casually swung my tan backpack on the couch, the smooth texture of the synthetic leather itches across the tips of my fingers as it slips away.

I settled myself comfortable in front of the heater. The honeyed waves of warmth brushes across my skin as the vivid orange flames flickers in a soothing, swift motion.

Mellow wisps of heat flutters between my palms as I stretch my hand out to obliterate the numbing coldness frosted between my flesh.

The house is extraordinarily quiet, but I don’t quite mind. It is quite comforting to live this peaceful, fulfilling lifestyle without any disturbance.

I don't quite believe this yet, but my life is finally flourishing.

I have one year of university to live through and I am currently looking through the job offers I’ve received of late, though I often think of my deceased father, I am enjoying this rare part time job-free winter quite greatly.

Two years ago, my father fell into oblivion on the mahjong table and never woke up. It turned out that his blood pressure skyrocketed after the shock of losing three games in a row, he died almost instantly, yet none of his mahjong friends noticed.

I am sorry to say, but his death also took the cross I had to bear for years off me. I can't help but feel relieved.

My father's death occurred in a sudden, almost as if he was desperate to chase that vile loan shark down to hell and confront him for all the pain he furnished our family with.

But it is no longer important, I am living contently, and this is enough.

I quickly shook my musing aside and headed to the kitchen with the thoughts of making a warm cup of hot chocolate churning in my mind.

I lay my hand on the kettle, the light suddenly flicked off.

In an instant, pitch blackness tightly encircles me, laying heavy tints of fear upon me. My chest tightens.

Though it is fairly uncommon, it is probably a black out.

I steadied myself and carefully stretched my leg out, beginning to slowly venture my way out.

My phone's lit screen captured my vision, I carefully follow that bright source of light and somehow manages to stagger to my phone.

My phone is brightly lit, a notification must have come through. This is strange. I have been too devoted in part time jobs to have any close friends.

Curiosity flits across my mind as I settle myself comfortable in a half-kneeling position before the coffee table I left my phone on.

I pick my phone up and a text message notification sitting on my home screen instantly arrests my gaze,

Have you ever sinned?

My hands shuddered, a sense of fear wreathes my heart tightly. It chokes the last wisp of oxygen out of my heart, urging this struggle to inhale through my nostrils.

That horrifying night two years ago flashes across my mind, that old loan shark’s last yell before he meets his grim grave made of steel and crushes stones pricks through my eardrums, like another gush of blood has splurt over my hood.

No...it can’t be. It absolutely can’t be.

No one except that man’s ghost and I would know the truth behind that incident.

The incident happened from a corner behind the ticket booth, it was a blind spot of the surveillance camera, which meant that it only caught a rough image of that man stumbling over the platform.

Though I was questioned a few times the police mainly suspected my father because he was the one who directly borrowed money and he drank at a bar near the train station.

There were way too many people who held a grudge against that loan shark, he could’ve encountered anyone of them and met his end. At last, the police closed the case as an accident, so absolutely no one would find out the truth.

I steel myself and laid my gaze on the caller’s number,

20181914

This is indeed a very odd number, though this unpleasant, pricking sensation tinges down my spine, I still manage to press that block icon.

"Probably just a stupid prank played by some brat......"

I muttered quietly to myself, but before I could close my phone, another message comes through,

Have you ever sinned?

I frowned as this fiery sensation burns in my tightened chest, I quickly powered my phone off in frustration.

What in the world......I am not going to let another message come!

The whole message thing drowns me into affliction. I am no longer bothered to deal with the black out that just came just too coincidentally with the message. I roughly changed myself into comfortable clothes and climbed into bed.

Maybe if I just go to sleep now I’ll wakeup with all those messy thoughts cleansed from my mind......

But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t forget that odd message from that suspicious number.

It was midnight when footsteps rose, I want to get out of bed to check, but before I could move a finger, something covers forcefully over my mouth.

It feels like a hand…but before I could take any actions to fend that hand off, I lost consciousness, a mole located on the corner of someone's lips was the last thing I saw, but it quickly fell into relentless dimness, a dimness was somewhat similar to the one that loomed over the station platform that night.

A glaring ray of light dazzles through my eyelids, I struggle as I open my eyes. I don’t know how long it has been since I lost my consciousness, but it feels like half a second ago. I must've be drugged.

A dull, dreary room falls in to my vision as a suffocating sensation rises on my neck area. I twitched my hands, attempting to use them to give that suffocating sensation a relief, only to find my hands cuffed to a table and a peculiar looking choker worn around my neck.

I frown as I struggle, the clanking noises of the handcuffs ringing violently by my ear.

"Don’t. You will trigger that choker’s sensor to inject poison in your carotid"

A soft, serene female voice rises, I shift my gaze towards the direction the voice rose from.

A beautiful woman falls into my gaze, she is approximately in her late twenties, her exquisite features are carefully covered in makeup that somewhat looms light traces of unapproachableness over her features.

She tugs a small, aloof smile, her dark chocolate brown hair tied neatly into a low pony tail that lays swiftly down her back slightly moves as she swiftly turns herself to face me.

"Nice to meet you, I am Kim Seoyeon" though her hands are cuffed to a table as well, her white chiffon blouse and black high-waist pencil skirt doesn’t hold one single wrinkle.

"I am Eun, nice to meet you" I said quietly as I took a quick scan of this room.

This small, dimly lit room have five tables, each table have either a wooden stool or metal chair in front of it.

Every set of table and chair have a person lying unconscious on it, and to my surprise, all the other tables form a circle around me and my table. This feels familiar…but I cannot recall when I had this similar experience.

"Hey you, that young man lying over there, you gained your consciousness back too, didn’t you? Why didn’t you warn Eun?" Says Seoyeon in a stern manner, her elegant hooked eyes shifted towards a young man possibly in his twenties.

Following Seoyeon’s glare, I found myself stumble over a fathomless pair of black eyes. They are quaintly arresting, the blackness of the pupils has flecks of amber glister as it sucks my attention, but as I hold my glare piercing glints of iciness caresses every inch of my skin, flushing a chilly sensation down my spine.

"Do I have the duty to do anything like that?" The young man smirks, he is a tall, handsome young man with captivating features glinting as he speaks, but I can clearly feel the heavy tinges of hostility through his gaze that briefly skimmed across the room, “Nice to meet you. My name is Hoseok, I am in my last year of university” he says with a faint smile hanging on the tips of his lips.

I bowed towards him courteously and that curve across his lips widened.

"Korean social conducts can indeed be charming" laughed a shrill voice with a funny accent behind me.

I turned around tentatively and a foreigner with dishevelled mid-length ash blonde bangs laid on his murky forehead falls into my vision, his sharply divined features beamed and a wide grin forms across his slim lips.

Noticing the timidness seeping from my small, vigilant movements he gained some sort of confidence and leaned towards me with a coquettish smirk formed across his lips, "And Korean ladies like you are also charming" though the distance between us isn’t terribly close, I can clearly smell his revolting breath reeking of liquor. His pale cheeks glowed a sun kissed bronze as he tilts his head to firm his gaze on me.

Probably another one of those exchange students that just graduated of late and planted themselves in the bars of Busan before getting captured here, how hopeless.

"My name is Mason" he stops for a second and suddenly raises his voice, "Please don't try and pronounce it! The Korean accent sounds ridiculous with English names"

"Would you please shut up?" Snaps a mid-aged man in a suit. I fix my gaze on the sheeny white nameplate clipped on his breast pocket that suggests his occupation as a real estate agent. He frowns, “I haven’t been able to sleep for a good three days now, please let me sleep”

His pale, sunken cheeks with heavy tints of stress and weariness furrows with frustration as he lays back on the table, but before he could even fully close his eyes he suddenly straightens his body, fully.

His eyes that somehow resembles dead fish pupils widens, he makes a screeching choking sound of affliction that echoed loudly across this cramped, boxy room.

"Number two, Shin Woojin, this is a warning for your defiance against me, next time, it won’t just be a choke to wake you up, it’ll be something that can put you to sleep, forever"

A muffled distorted voice rose from the speakers perched on the cupboards of the room. Woojin immediately purses his lips awkwardly and falls into silence.

"Okay, now that everyone has gained their consciousness the fun may begin. You five have been captured because you have all sinned, and managed to flee from its consequences. This is an abandoned train station that is located in the deserted area between Seoul and Gyeonggi, no one will find you guys, and if you decide to disobey or rebel against me, the sensor implanted in your chokers will inject a dose of toxic in your carotid, just as our smart executive director’s assistant who was also smart enough to be her master’s mistress and receive good money from that shady business every week have figured out”

'Train station' strikes me like a rushing train, a pricking sensation stabs through my heart as my hands trembled.

No…no…it can’t be!

I gulped, my fists clenched so hard that I can feel my knuckles jerk abruptly against my flesh.

I neurotically straightened my back before tentatively scanning around the room to confirm that no one has noticed my abnormal, paranoid behaviour.

Luckily, everyone’s attention is arrested by the second half of his words regarding Seoyeon. I quickly steel myself and shift my gaze upon Seoyeon, just like the other three.

Seoyeon firmly holds her tranquillity as she slowly shifts her gaze towards a small round marble like thing that sits beside the speakers, she tugs her typical aloof smile, “Is that your revenge on me for outsmarting you? Voice Changer-nim” she firmly prolongs every letter of ‘voice changer-nim’ just before a bead falls from her beautifully done artificial nails.

That bead is delicately made into the shape and colour of a ruby, it’s counterfeit glistening features shone in mid-air as it swiftly spun and tarnishes into a hazy reddish blur before hitting the grimy floor.

Seoyeon’s eyes widened, blood drained from her face as her neck reddens, judging from her tightly clenched fist, I know she is trying to press that choking noise pending in her throat silent.

"Okay, I think you get the idea now" That distorted voice rose as a look of relief swamps over Seoyeon’s ravishing features, she quietly sits back.

I am somewhat surprised by her immediately relaxed posture. That fairly juicy piece of information is probably her deepest and possibly darkest secret she would want to conceal, but it was openly exposed before four quite unpleasant strangers, and yet she doesn’t have the faintest trace of humiliation tinged over her expression.

Seoyeon seems to have noticed my gaze and tugs a small smile across her lips that has been tinted in an elegantly vivid cherry red, a bizarre tingle unknowingly slithers down my spine as I quietly shift my gaze away from her.

That foreign wreck Mason’s lips parted, but no words slipped. Even though he is a wrecked alcoholic he probably perceived the idea of how vulnerable we all are before the person behind the speakers.

"Good. Now we can get into business. You have been escorted here to participate in a game; a very fun and interactive game I’m sure you will all enjoy. There will be one winner, the winner of the game will receive redemption and a very good number of cash from me to enjoy your life with. Because of my mercy, I will also like to thank the losers for their participation with a good gift, the opportunity to leave this filthy world before the winner does"

The room falls into complete silence, everyone holds a different expression. Either horrified, like Woojin’s slowly watering eyes and violently quivering hands and Mason’s smile that congealed into a daunted grimace, or tranquil, like that university student Hoseok who doesn’t have a single trace of emotion registered on his fine face, or thoughtful, like Seoyeon’s slightly lowered lashes that conceals her ponders.

I am in middle of all of them, though a tremor rushes through me, I manage to hold my tranquility.

Though it is absolutely preposterous, I have a faint idea of what that ‘game’ might be, it is absurd, it is unrealistic, I close my eyes, foolishly believing that once I open them again I will be back in my bed, covered in cold sweat.

It has to be a nightmare.

I open my eyes; the same dreary setting falls into my vision.

I clench my teeth, though my hands are cuffed I still manage to move them next to each other. I close my eyes and sink my nails in my flesh, a sharp pain pierces through my skin, nearly forcing a screech through my tightly clenched teeth.

"Number one Byun Eun, please stop trying ridiculous things, this is not a dream" Says the voice firmly through the speakers.

My face flushes red as I halt my movement.

The owner of that hideous voice knows my full name which I find quite fascinating. Despite my legal documents and enrolment in education institutions, everyone knows me by the name 'Eun', they either know that I resent my father or they simply don’t think I have a family name.

"I will explain the rules now. Between the five of you, only one person will live. You will essentially need to get rid of the other 4. There will only be one round of game, so no hassle, no torture. You will be let out in a minute to play, there are electric wires that are activated all around the train station. There are codes all around this place, every one of you have a part of a necklace, you’ll need all its parts to deactivate one section of the electric wire, you’ll be required to find all the codes and decode them to figure the passcode that deactivates the second section of the electric wire, then, when my eyes around the area tells me that there are only one person left, you’ll be free to leave"

The voice pauses and lets a light chuckle, "I am sorry, I forgot to introduce you people to each other. I think it is common courtesy to know someone’s name properly before killing them, also, I have given every one of you a number so I will be addressing your number instead of your name, listen and remember carefully." The voice pauses as ruffling noises come through, the voice falls a tone deeper, “Number one, Byun Eun. Number two, Shin Woojin. Number three, Jung Hoseok. Number four, Kim Seoyeon. Number five, Mason Smith. The game may begin, best of luck, my dear players"

A scratchy noise rose as the voice ceases with a loud beep to end the noxious silence.

Mason, or number five lets a loud groan of relief as our handcuffs unlocked. His eyes skimmed across Woojin and muffles something under his breath, possibly in English.

I can’t help but be suspicious of the numbers, it doesn’t appear to have any sort of order.

But why…am I number one?

I clutched tightly on my stone blue jeans that forms a rusty bluish white hue as I tighten my clutch.

"You like makeup?" Seoyeon gently starts, her exquisitely defined lips left elegantly ajar as she turns to face me.

I give her a meek nod, "Yes"

"You’re still young, your natural skin is still nice and smooth, there is no need to apply makeup. If it’s unavoidable then you should start cleansing it thoroughly. I really like—"

"Will a dead body need any cleansing?" A rich, silvery male voice rises, followed by a wisp of fresh, almost angelic fragrance that somewhat resembles the bright, captivating pleasantness of dandelions. "Already forming alliances? How efficient"

I raise my gaze as number three, that young university student Hoseok’s side profile falls into my vision.

It is almost unreal how nonchalant and relaxed he seems, with a small smirk he lolls on the edge of my table while struggling to undo the first button of his drape long-sleeved khaki shirt.

Annoyance furrows Seoyeon’s nicely done brows, she lightly gives the white gold ring sitting on her middle finger a blow and parts her lips, "What do you mean?" she snaps in a sharp, almost threatening tone.

The speck of dust that was stuck on the shank of her ring withers over the glamourous diamond firmly embedded at the center of the ring, forging a brief yet luminous dazzle of a silverish blur.

"Though you clearly know that only one person will be able to walk out of here, you still talk as if there is a tomorrow that will allow both you and number one to survive comfortably. Using things that sounds regular and everyday-like to further establish the hope and illusion you are trying to offer. A very common strategy used in buying companies and merging small companies to overpower that company for your own benefits. I never thought you could use this method in such a way, how eye-opening, you really do deserve your opulent lifestyle, Assistant Kim"

"Saying this just because I made some constructive comments on you and your performance in that interview?" Seoyeon raised an eyebrow as she silently draws herself closer to me.

Hoseok tugs a small smirk, his slender fingers leisurely drumming over the timber texture of my table, casually displaying his disinterest in the topic.

"Eun" He calls my name, prolonging every sound in a low, honey tone voice.

A shudder rushed through me as I muster my voice to respond, I lumbered myself back, keeping a good distance with both Hoseok and Seoyeon.

Honestly, this is just too frantic for me to adapt within such a short time.

Alliance is definitely a key factor of this game of brutality. Normally, you’d go to the sturdiest looking person, because for the moment being, that strong person won’t act as a menace to you and it'd also give you a chance to obtain experience and techniques before facing the them.

But I am definitely not the strongest.

I have displayed my negligence the second I gained consciousness by carelessly moving and struggling even when I have sensed oddness in my surrounding. It is beyond doubt that I am physically weak. I am a thin yet pale looking average height female, who has the word malnutrition written all over me.

I am not smart, nor am I physically sturdy…the only reason I can find is lure. It is possible that they want to get rid of me first and this is just a method to get close to me and let me draw my last breath.

So...if I am already seen as a weakling, then I should just use this as a method for survival……

I pull an absentminded-looking smile as my gaze travelled to the door that has been unlocked.

I stretched a finger out and points at it with a great level of delightfulness, "I haven’t been to a train station in years!" I gushed eagerly and dashed out of the room without another word.

It is somewhat true that I haven't laid a toe on a train station after that incident. I simply can't bear with the stifling, atmospheric heaviness that lays on me when I do.

Chilly winter wind pierces through my flesh as I lift my feet away from that troublesome little room that's flaring of tension. It was originally used as the ticket booth of the abandoned train station, a fact that makes an odd feeling hit me.

I looked around, completely dumbstruck by how familiar this station look……every bit of it seems to be identical to the one that old man died in.

The despairing greyness that laid heavily upon my shoulders for all these years, that paining wound that I’ve been trying to avoid suddenly strikes back through my mind.

"Ajjussi…sorry……" I murmured under my breath as I walked along the tarnished rail that also contained that dark hue of crimson.

My front teeth sank deeply into my chapped lower lips, it’s rough, flaky texture rubs a sharp sense of bitterness down my throat.

I jumped carefully off the grimy platform and strolled slowly to that crimson colour that somehow melded in the dreary atmosphere.

I was too scared…I thought you were going to kill me, your knife was so petrifying……I didn’t mean to, ajjussi, I’m sorry……" my vision darkened under my tears’ canopy as words slipped out of my lightly trembling lips.

I fell on my knees in cowardice, a blunt pain stabs sharply through my knees as something odd brushes across the tips of my fingers.

Between the rusty crushed stones reveals the wrinkled corner of a yellowed piece of paper.

What in the world……

I stretched my hand out and delicately pulled it out, I vigilantly checked my surroundings before I slipped myself in a dark corner behind a ticket booth and unfolded the piece of paper,

20181914

This must be the code that person behind the speakers was talking about.

I don’t know why, but it somehow feels familiar. I just know that I have seen it somewhere.

I shoved it in my pocket and turned to leave when a hand suddenly covers my mouth. A tight grasp firmly settles around my hip as I shift my gaze downwards, a serrated piece of metal falls into my vision.

Crap……

The cold, heavy scent of cigarette flushes in my nostrils, I can almost feel the fading warmth the embers hold. Quickly recalling everyone’s voice and teeth Shin Woojin comes to my mind.

Damn it…my head is feeling lighter and lighter……

"Damn!" Cried a shrill voice, followed by the heavy sound of someone falling.

Just before blackness completely encircles me, that grip around me slackens and I fall into an oddly warm embrace.

"You alright there?" Hoseok's worried expression appears before my eyes, his voice contains heavy tinges of urgency as fix my pupil on him.

Why is he this worried?

I shift my gaze behind him and found number five Mason's body lying on the grimy concrete unconscious.

My eyes twitches, "What happened?"

Hoseok pulls a small smile, "Karma for defi—"

"Oh please! It was all that white bastard's fault! He was the one who had remainders of meds he used to get chicks" Pleads a croaky voice, disrupting Hoseok's response.

Hoseok's face sterns, "But you were the one who made the decision to follow him" Hoseok pauses as my latch around his wrist settles. I do not why...possibly the desire to live, possibly falling for his scheme of luring me, I don't know, but with that clutch around him, I feel safe. Hoseok clears his throat, "So don't try and push all your part of this away"

"Well I am just a weak middle age man, I am the oldest between the five, I have the least chance to win and get out of here. How can you blame me for teaming up with a stronger person" Woojin raises his voice as his eyes moistures. I can almost see his worries and concerns flaring out of his pupils.

How can I blame him?

In this world, he probably have tons of responsibilities to carry, those provoking yet unavoidable burdens that pushes him to continue in pestering the customers who gave him the cold shoulder a hundred million times. His old mother and father who are in the time where they have terribly unreasonable mood swings, his wife who's slowing growing into a family member in companionship instead of a lovey-dicey romantic partner and her complaints on how tight this month's living expenses are cutting her and his children who are probably too young to perceive any serious ideas.

If he leaves at this time all these people will fall into agony.

"Hoseok-ssi" I called gently as I struggle to stand, "You are forming teams anyways, right? Why don't you take him? He'll make me feel safer on your team"

• • • • •

This short fanfic series was inspired by Battle Royale.

#bangtan #hoseok #jhope #bts jhope #fanfic #fanfiction #bts #bts fanfic #short story #jhope fanfic #dark #writing

[comfsy]

On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1)

By Louise Coghill

I haven’t slept properly in days. It’s 3:30 in the morning and i’m 3500m above sea level. I’m sitting on the roof of my guesthouse shivering in my yak wool jumper, gloves and thermals, wishing i’d bought more layers. I have a perfect view of the milky way stretching up from behind the mountain range in front of me, spanning across the sky to the mountains behind me.

It’s been my dream for years to be in Nepal, trekking through the Himalayas. Today it’s the 10th day of my trek on the Annapurna circuit.

The cold stings my face, my feet are numb from sitting in the same position for so long. I’m so tired my eyes are itchy and every time I blink I have to shake myself awake. There’s a pain in my stomach that won’t go away. I’ve been up since 1am running back and forth from the toilet. I hear a familiar gurgle telling me I might need to make a quick exit soon.

Every 30 seconds I press the shutter on my camera, capturing a time-lapse.

It’s not so much that I WANT to be up here in the cold taking photos. It’s an innate need.

The sun starts to rise and I force myself back to bed before I freeze. I lay shivering beneath a cocoon of blankets, watching my breath frost the air in front of me.

It takes me forever to warm up, my fingers are still numb and I lay there for what feels like an hour before I finally feel human again. The pain in my stomach lingers, warning me; but right now, in this moment, I feel better about life than I have all year.

To begin the Annapurna circuit you spend 3 – 4 hours on a bus, getting bounced around the potholed roads of Nepal. I got on the bus alone, but by the time I arrived I had 4 new trekking buddies. Erica (America), Tomas (Norway), Bob (England) and Marijn (Holland).

Solo travelers from across the globe. Together we set off, full of energy, mentally preparing ourselves for the 200km’s we were about to walk together, up to 5416m to cross the Thorong La Pass.

We walked through adorable town after adorable town, tropical jungle, rice fields, children yelling ‘Namaste,’ cows and buffalo chewing grass.

Finally we reached destination 1, Ngardi. Nestled beneath the mountains, broken up by a river rushing through, the icy water flowing directly from the snowy peaks above.

I enjoyed my first stargazing adventure of the trip, I decided to leave the camera behind as I knew the stars were just going to get better the higher we climbed.

I was perched on a rock next to the river, listening to the water rush past, watching the fireflies light up around me and the night sky light up above me.

All I could do was breathe. Breathe in the beautiful life I’m so privileged to lead. Breathe out all the worries that had been clouding my judgement and weighing me down in my home life.

It was a lovely moment that was only slightly ruined by the discovery of 2 leeches in my pants.

Day 3 and we hit our first snag. I got all the really important trekking items in Australia to make sure they were good quality. I sourced some cheap second hand boots. They were a bit older but seemed to be in good nick.

Alas the glue holding the shoes together was not in such good nick. The entire sole was coming off both of my boots. Exactly what you want to occur on day 3 of an intense mountainous hike which is going to send you up into the snow. I ran around trying to find some superglue to hold it on until I could make it to the next major town. 4 packets and a roll of duct tape later and my soles seemed to be holding on. We FINALLY set off for another day of trekking.

It was just going to be a short day. A 3 hour hike to Chame to fix my shoes, but the Annapurna’s had other plans. We arrived at 12pm, my shoes were going to take an hour to fix so I wandered around town in a sexy socks and sandals combo. There was nothing to do but sit down and enjoy an afternoon of chai masala. Sitting in a tiny Indian take away shop with children running around everywhere, watching the owner crouching down in front of the fire cooking Tibetan bread. Before we knew it 2 hours had passed. We were all low on energy, so we thought ‘lets just cruise along to Bhratang, the next town, another 2 hours of walking and we can call it a day.’ We set off just as the rain began.

We plodded along through pine forests, next to rivers, past locals huddled under overhanging rocks warming themselves by little camp fires. Staring at us as we trudged along in the cold rain. Berating ourselves for our decision to keep going, we saw more and more snowy peaks, our breath was frosting up.

Finally the next town was in sight and a sigh of relief filled my soul. As we got closer we saw Tomas and Marijn sitting and waiting for us. We’d lost them on the route so it was a double relief. The feeling didn’t last long. They were shaking their heads, “Don’t get your hopes up, there are no rooms.” My back screamed in protest. “The next town is 2 hours away” I didn’t believe them. I can handle a long trek but not when I don’t expect it. I’d mentally prepared myself for a 3 – 4 hour hike, and here I was 5 hours later preparing for another 2. My mind wasn’t ready. We were stopping in Bhratang. I still couldn’t comprehend that it wasn’t true. My feet were in agony, my fingers once again were being stabbed by the cold. Putting my pack back on will remain one of the most demoralising things I’ve ever had to do. My shoulder blades were in agony. We weren’t sure if there were rooms in the next town but we were hoping with everything we had. If there wasn’t a room, it was another 2 hours to Upper Pisang. I knew I could physically manage, but mentally?

After what felt like decades of trekking we crested the hill and suddenly there it was. The first thing I noticed were the hotel signs. There were enough around that I knew we’d have a place to sleep. I was dog tired but the view was overwhelming, I didn’t know what to photograph first. Everywhere I looked snowy mountains, so close I could see the wind blowing snow off the peak. We were above the clouds, the trees were frosted over and the mist was roaming through. The cold crisp air was cleansing my body of its aches and pains and the view made me forget the hours of pain.

To Upper Pisang

Today the Nepalese stomach kicked in in force. It also happened to be the day of a gruelling ascent to Upper Pisang. 420m steep incline. There are two options to get to Manang, the upper or lower Pisang. The Upper path is a demanding adventure which takes several hours longer. You hike up and then have to hike back down several hundred meters to get to Manang.

Why hike it? You may ask. BECAUSE IT’S SO GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL.

We arrive at the base and look up, you can’t see the top. My stomach feels like someone is continuously stabbing me with a rusty knife. It hurts with every step. You can do this Louise. I need the toilet, so I start first. 2 hours of hiking and I’ll have a toilet. The thought keeps me going. The whole way up I was questioning my decisions. Will I be able to keep going? Why did I think I could manage this? Why did I do this to myself? Everyone else stopped for water and snacks along the way. Gave their back a quick rest from the pack. I considered it, but as soon as I stopped the feeling in my stomach got worse. Someone was twisting the knife now.

We were on a bare hill, hardly any bush around so the only option was to keep going, or endure the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. I chose to keep going. Another lifetime of torture later and I finally crested the hill. I was face to face with a small tea house which HAD A TOILET. I dropped my pack and ran. You can all rest easy, I made it.

As I was sipping my tea and looking out at the valley I understood why people raved about this hike. The entire mountain range spanning as far as your eye can see. A river snaking through, past small towns nestled in the valley below. As we climbed the snow touched peaks grew closer, filling up our amazed eyes. For those travellers who take the challenge you will be rewarded with views of the tallest mountains in the world. The Annapurna is a massif in the Himalayas, that includes one peak over 8,000 metres, thirteen peaks over 7,000 metres, and sixteen more over 6,000 metres. As we walked my stomach was forgotten and I was positively giddy. My camera constantly clicking until we reach Manang.

Rest days in Manang

When you’re hiking to higher altitudes your body needs a rest day to acclimatize, otherwise you’ll get altitude sickness and join the many who have to get flown off the mountain. You can never forget the altitude while you’re in Manang. We were staying in a three-storied guesthouse and the dining hall was on the third level. Every single time we had to climb the stairs we had to laugh at how breathless we were, unable to pull enough oxygen into my contracted lungs.

Yak Kharka

I woke up at 5am to a snow covered wonderland. Still amazed by natures abilities to create such magnificent vista’s. The mountain peaks caressed by soft billowy clouds, kissed with the soft pink of dawn.

After hiking through a snow storm we made it to Thorong Phedi. Our last stop before the Thorong La Pass. 4500m high. Freezing. Wood is so finite, it has to be bought up on horses, or even people’s backs. So they only light the fire at night. It felt like we’d never be warm again, the cold had seeped into my bones.

The day of the pass. 5416m.

At 4am we awoke. We were physically ready to begin, but still mentally preparing ourselves for the 1000m ascent to the summit at altitude. We were standing under another mountain looking up at switchback after switchback. A 500m sharp ascent. Breathless I shuffled along. Each step is a struggle. The air so thin you constantly feel out of breath. Each corner leaning on my trusty walking stick, Wallace, sucking air into my lungs trying to get enough in to continue the shuffle. The cold air and altitude added a dry hacking cough to my arsenal of challenges. The air is so dry that our lips are cracking and the walkway is covered in ice so you can’t switch off and climb mindlessly.

We finally reach high camp, 500 metres higher than Thorong Phedi (our sleeping quarters). Marijn, my fellow hiker assures us the difficult part is over. The next part of the hike is a much flatter, a slow steady incline. How wrong he was. We departed for the next step of the journey, fresh faced, giddy, giggling, joking. Just much more innocent, naive versions of ourselves really.

Hiking to the pass.

Step 1: Scale the side of a snowy mountain, using a very thin snowy/icy walkway.

Misstep a few times and face your own possible demise as your leg sinks into a foot of snow and you topple over, luckily falling BACK onto the pathway, rather than down the side of the mountain.

Step 2: Cross a landslide area.

A small path is carved into a sheer wall of rock, ice and snow. This is the main reason you have to start so early. As the sun hits it and the day warms up the ice melts and the rocks begin falling. As we wandered up to it we could hear the wall creaking and groaning as the ice was melting, followed by the terrifying sound of rocks clattering down the wall, across the path and onto the floor below. As we get closer and closer the rocks are falling faster and faster. Some can’t even be classed as rocks, we’ll call them boulders. We look nervously at each other but the rocks don’t look too big yet (we’re ignoring the boulders) and they’re easy enough to dodge and the thought of going back to high camp to sleep another night doesn’t appeal to anyone. So on we hike. Erica and Tomas go first. I watch with a sick and heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach (this time unrelated to a parasite) as a large rock comes crashing down the mountain. People are shouting ‘ROCK’ and Erica looks up deciding whether to run forward or backwards. She steps forward and narrowly avoids a rock to the head. I follow them up, my breathing is ragged. My lungs are screaming for me to stop and catch my breath but the fear I feel as each small rock scatters past keeps me going.

Step 3: Go insane and lose faith that your life is even real and you are actually stuck in a strange time loop where you will never reach the pass.

Now the long walk up and down and up and down small snowy hills begins. You can only see the hill in front of you. Each time you get there you hope this is the one. When I get to the top I’ll see the flags and the ‘Thorong La’ sign post. But each time you get severely disappointed. With each incline the shuffle gets slower and slower. My breathing gets more and more difficult and the hacking cough worsens. I have to stop and catch my breath every 10 steps or so. FINALLY, after a few hours I crest a hill and not even 100m away is the pass. The colourful flags fluttering in the wind. It doesn’t feel real. I’d prepared to never reach the pass. 13 days of trekking and several hours of false summits it no longer existed in my current reality, but lo and behold here it was.

Luckily in Nepal there are tea houses everywhere, even at 5416m. I sat down with a cup of chai that costs triple what it would at normal altitude. But as I took a sip it was the sweetest most satisfying thing I’d ever tasted. As I sat and sipped the energy returned to my spent body. With the much needed sugar filling my veins, my mind was able to finally appreciate what it had achieved. We couldn’t stop for too long, we’d ascended over 1000m and the headache from lacking oxygen was setting in. I drained my cup and sat for a moment longer, the sense of accomplishment washing over me. I’d made it.

The post On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1) appeared first on roam.

On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1) published first on http://ift.tt/2vmoAQU

[outsidespaceblog]

On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1)

By Louise Coghill

I haven’t slept properly in days. It’s 3:30 in the morning and i’m 3500m above sea level. I’m sitting on the roof of my guesthouse shivering in my yak wool jumper, gloves and thermals, wishing i’d bought more layers. I have a perfect view of the milky way stretching up from behind the mountain range in front of me, spanning across the sky to the mountains behind me.

It’s been my dream for years to be in Nepal, trekking through the Himalayas. Today it’s the 10th day of my trek on the Annapurna circuit.

The cold stings my face, my feet are numb from sitting in the same position for so long. I’m so tired my eyes are itchy and every time I blink I have to shake myself awake. There’s a pain in my stomach that won’t go away. I’ve been up since 1am running back and forth from the toilet. I hear a familiar gurgle telling me I might need to make a quick exit soon.

Every 30 seconds I press the shutter on my camera, capturing a time-lapse.

It’s not so much that I WANT to be up here in the cold taking photos. It’s an innate need.

The sun starts to rise and I force myself back to bed before I freeze. I lay shivering beneath a cocoon of blankets, watching my breath frost the air in front of me.

It takes me forever to warm up, my fingers are still numb and I lay there for what feels like an hour before I finally feel human again. The pain in my stomach lingers, warning me; but right now, in this moment, I feel better about life than I have all year.

To begin the Annapurna circuit you spend 3 – 4 hours on a bus, getting bounced around the potholed roads of Nepal. I got on the bus alone, but by the time I arrived I had 4 new trekking buddies. Erica (America), Tomas (Norway), Bob (England) and Marijn (Holland).

Solo travelers from across the globe. Together we set off, full of energy, mentally preparing ourselves for the 200km’s we were about to walk together, up to 5416m to cross the Thorong La Pass.

We walked through adorable town after adorable town, tropical jungle, rice fields, children yelling ‘Namaste,’ cows and buffalo chewing grass.

Finally we reached destination 1, Ngardi. Nestled beneath the mountains, broken up by a river rushing through, the icy water flowing directly from the snowy peaks above.

I enjoyed my first stargazing adventure of the trip, I decided to leave the camera behind as I knew the stars were just going to get better the higher we climbed.

I was perched on a rock next to the river, listening to the water rush past, watching the fireflies light up around me and the night sky light up above me.

All I could do was breathe. Breathe in the beautiful life I’m so privileged to lead. Breathe out all the worries that had been clouding my judgement and weighing me down in my home life.

It was a lovely moment that was only slightly ruined by the discovery of 2 leeches in my pants.

Day 3 and we hit our first snag. I got all the really important trekking items in Australia to make sure they were good quality. I sourced some cheap second hand boots. They were a bit older but seemed to be in good nick.

Alas the glue holding the shoes together was not in such good nick. The entire sole was coming off both of my boots. Exactly what you want to occur on day 3 of an intense mountainous hike which is going to send you up into the snow. I ran around trying to find some superglue to hold it on until I could make it to the next major town. 4 packets and a roll of duct tape later and my soles seemed to be holding on. We FINALLY set off for another day of trekking.

It was just going to be a short day. A 3 hour hike to Chame to fix my shoes, but the Annapurna’s had other plans. We arrived at 12pm, my shoes were going to take an hour to fix so I wandered around town in a sexy socks and sandals combo. There was nothing to do but sit down and enjoy an afternoon of chai masala. Sitting in a tiny Indian take away shop with children running around everywhere, watching the owner crouching down in front of the fire cooking Tibetan bread. Before we knew it 2 hours had passed. We were all low on energy, so we thought ‘lets just cruise along to Bhratang, the next town, another 2 hours of walking and we can call it a day.’ We set off just as the rain began.

We plodded along through pine forests, next to rivers, past locals huddled under overhanging rocks warming themselves by little camp fires. Staring at us as we trudged along in the cold rain. Berating ourselves for our decision to keep going, we saw more and more snowy peaks, our breath was frosting up.

Finally the next town was in sight and a sigh of relief filled my soul. As we got closer we saw Tomas and Marijn sitting and waiting for us. We’d lost them on the route so it was a double relief. The feeling didn’t last long. They were shaking their heads, “Don’t get your hopes up, there are no rooms.” My back screamed in protest. “The next town is 2 hours away” I didn’t believe them. I can handle a long trek but not when I don’t expect it. I’d mentally prepared myself for a 3 – 4 hour hike, and here I was 5 hours later preparing for another 2. My mind wasn’t ready. We were stopping in Bhratang. I still couldn’t comprehend that it wasn’t true. My feet were in agony, my fingers once again were being stabbed by the cold. Putting my pack back on will remain one of the most demoralising things I’ve ever had to do. My shoulder blades were in agony. We weren’t sure if there were rooms in the next town but we were hoping with everything we had. If there wasn’t a room, it was another 2 hours to Upper Pisang. I knew I could physically manage, but mentally?

After what felt like decades of trekking we crested the hill and suddenly there it was. The first thing I noticed were the hotel signs. There were enough around that I knew we’d have a place to sleep. I was dog tired but the view was overwhelming, I didn’t know what to photograph first. Everywhere I looked snowy mountains, so close I could see the wind blowing snow off the peak. We were above the clouds, the trees were frosted over and the mist was roaming through. The cold crisp air was cleansing my body of its aches and pains and the view made me forget the hours of pain.

To Upper Pisang

Today the Nepalese stomach kicked in in force. It also happened to be the day of a gruelling ascent to Upper Pisang. 420m steep incline. There are two options to get to Manang, the upper or lower Pisang. The Upper path is a demanding adventure which takes several hours longer. You hike up and then have to hike back down several hundred meters to get to Manang.

Why hike it? You may ask. BECAUSE IT’S SO GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL.

We arrive at the base and look up, you can’t see the top. My stomach feels like someone is continuously stabbing me with a rusty knife. It hurts with every step. You can do this Louise. I need the toilet, so I start first. 2 hours of hiking and I’ll have a toilet. The thought keeps me going. The whole way up I was questioning my decisions. Will I be able to keep going? Why did I think I could manage this? Why did I do this to myself? Everyone else stopped for water and snacks along the way. Gave their back a quick rest from the pack. I considered it, but as soon as I stopped the feeling in my stomach got worse. Someone was twisting the knife now.

We were on a bare hill, hardly any bush around so the only option was to keep going, or endure the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. I chose to keep going. Another lifetime of torture later and I finally crested the hill. I was face to face with a small tea house which HAD A TOILET. I dropped my pack and ran. You can all rest easy, I made it.

As I was sipping my tea and looking out at the valley I understood why people raved about this hike. The entire mountain range spanning as far as your eye can see. A river snaking through, past small towns nestled in the valley below. As we climbed the snow touched peaks grew closer, filling up our amazed eyes. For those travellers who take the challenge you will be rewarded with views of the tallest mountains in the world. The Annapurna is a massif in the Himalayas, that includes one peak over 8,000 metres, thirteen peaks over 7,000 metres, and sixteen more over 6,000 metres. As we walked my stomach was forgotten and I was positively giddy. My camera constantly clicking until we reach Manang.

Rest days in Manang

When you’re hiking to higher altitudes your body needs a rest day to acclimatize, otherwise you’ll get altitude sickness and join the many who have to get flown off the mountain. You can never forget the altitude while you’re in Manang. We were staying in a three-storied guesthouse and the dining hall was on the third level. Every single time we had to climb the stairs we had to laugh at how breathless we were, unable to pull enough oxygen into my contracted lungs.

Yak Kharka

I woke up at 5am to a snow covered wonderland. Still amazed by natures abilities to create such magnificent vista’s. The mountain peaks caressed by soft billowy clouds, kissed with the soft pink of dawn.

After hiking through a snow storm we made it to Thorong Phedi. Our last stop before the Thorong La Pass. 4500m high. Freezing. Wood is so finite, it has to be bought up on horses, or even people’s backs. So they only light the fire at night. It felt like we’d never be warm again, the cold had seeped into my bones.

The day of the pass. 5416m.

At 4am we awoke. We were physically ready to begin, but still mentally preparing ourselves for the 1000m ascent to the summit at altitude. We were standing under another mountain looking up at switchback after switchback. A 500m sharp ascent. Breathless I shuffled along. Each step is a struggle. The air so thin you constantly feel out of breath. Each corner leaning on my trusty walking stick, Wallace, sucking air into my lungs trying to get enough in to continue the shuffle. The cold air and altitude added a dry hacking cough to my arsenal of challenges. The air is so dry that our lips are cracking and the walkway is covered in ice so you can’t switch off and climb mindlessly.

We finally reach high camp, 500 metres higher than Thorong Phedi (our sleeping quarters). Marijn, my fellow hiker assures us the difficult part is over. The next part of the hike is a much flatter, a slow steady incline. How wrong he was. We departed for the next step of the journey, fresh faced, giddy, giggling, joking. Just much more innocent, naive versions of ourselves really.

Hiking to the pass.

Step 1: Scale the side of a snowy mountain, using a very thin snowy/icy walkway.

Misstep a few times and face your own possible demise as your leg sinks into a foot of snow and you topple over, luckily falling BACK onto the pathway, rather than down the side of the mountain.

Step 2: Cross a landslide area.

A small path is carved into a sheer wall of rock, ice and snow. This is the main reason you have to start so early. As the sun hits it and the day warms up the ice melts and the rocks begin falling. As we wandered up to it we could hear the wall creaking and groaning as the ice was melting, followed by the terrifying sound of rocks clattering down the wall, across the path and onto the floor below. As we get closer and closer the rocks are falling faster and faster. Some can’t even be classed as rocks, we’ll call them boulders. We look nervously at each other but the rocks don’t look too big yet (we’re ignoring the boulders) and they’re easy enough to dodge and the thought of going back to high camp to sleep another night doesn’t appeal to anyone. So on we hike. Erica and Tomas go first. I watch with a sick and heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach (this time unrelated to a parasite) as a large rock comes crashing down the mountain. People are shouting ‘ROCK’ and Erica looks up deciding whether to run forward or backwards. She steps forward and narrowly avoids a rock to the head. I follow them up, my breathing is ragged. My lungs are screaming for me to stop and catch my breath but the fear I feel as each small rock scatters past keeps me going.

Step 3: Go insane and lose faith that your life is even real and you are actually stuck in a strange time loop where you will never reach the pass.

Now the long walk up and down and up and down small snowy hills begins. You can only see the hill in front of you. Each time you get there you hope this is the one. When I get to the top I’ll see the flags and the ‘Thorong La’ sign post. But each time you get severely disappointed. With each incline the shuffle gets slower and slower. My breathing gets more and more difficult and the hacking cough worsens. I have to stop and catch my breath every 10 steps or so. FINALLY, after a few hours I crest a hill and not even 100m away is the pass. The colourful flags fluttering in the wind. It doesn’t feel real. I’d prepared to never reach the pass. 13 days of trekking and several hours of false summits it no longer existed in my current reality, but lo and behold here it was.

Luckily in Nepal there are tea houses everywhere, even at 5416m. I sat down with a cup of chai that costs triple what it would at normal altitude. But as I took a sip it was the sweetest most satisfying thing I’d ever tasted. As I sat and sipped the energy returned to my spent body. With the much needed sugar filling my veins, my mind was able to finally appreciate what it had achieved. We couldn’t stop for too long, we’d ascended over 1000m and the headache from lacking oxygen was setting in. I drained my cup and sat for a moment longer, the sense of accomplishment washing over me. I’d made it.

The post On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1) appeared first on roam.

On the Annapurna Circuit Trek | Hiking in the Himalayas, Nepal (Part 1) published first on http://ift.tt/2uo7aCb

[thetravelinggeiger]

The John Muir Trail is a premier hiking trail that attracts thousands of hikers each year. Shorter than any of America’s long trails (the PCT, ACT, or CDT), it is much more feasible for the average hiker who wants something more challenging than a weekend trip. Running 216 miles through the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the trail begins in Yosemite and ends at the summit of Mt. Whitney (14,496 ft) to the south. Most hikers choose to hike the trail north to south simply to give themselves time to acclimate.

Yosemite Valley to Mt. Whitney

Our John Muir Trail adventure began at the permit office in Yosemite Valley. I had tried numerous times to reserve a permit months ahead, but had no such luck. July being prime hiking season, there was a long line, but we patiently waited our turn, talking with hikers from around the world. Almost everyone was hoping to hike the famous Half Dome. Luckily, we were able to snag just that!

Permit in hand, we packed our bags and made our way over to the campground. Yosemite reserves spaces for backpackers and allows them to stay one night before and after any trip for a nominal fee. We found an unwanted space near the pit toilets and set up camp. Over dinner we met two fellow backpackers named Randy and Jimmie. Randy was also attempting the JMT and we decided the five of us would hike together the following morning.

And so it began…

Day 1: Yosemite Valley to Cloud’s Rest Trail Jct- 13 miles

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.”

-John Muir

With sleep still heavy in our eyes, we stumbled out of our tents and packed up our things. Rendezvoused at the trailhead, we took our picture with the sign that listed the 216 miles to the big finish.

Then came our first steps on the trail. The JMT wastes little time ascending out of Yosemite valley. At an ass-blasting pace, you will gain over 3,000 feet in the 6+ miles to the Half Dome Trail junction. Progress is justly rewarded with gorgeous views along the way. We briefly veered off the actual JMT taking the appropriately named Mist Trail past Vernal Falls.

It was a breezy day and the trail was slick with windblown mist. Climbing a steep set of stairs, we made our way above the falls. Leaning on a railing, you can look out over the powerful cascading water. A second waterfall, Nevada Falls, comes into view farther up the trail. Further on we came to the Little Yosemite Valley Campground. Many people camp here on route to Half Dome; I had done such a trip back in 2014. A few miles farther, just past the trail junction for Cloud’s Rest, we found a nice spot in the woods to set up camp. After some food and a brief rest, we said our goodbyes to Jimmie and the four of us spent the afternoon tackling Half Dome.

With day packs full of water and snacks, we climbed the chains to the summit of one of the most iconic peaks in America! On top, we shared the heart stopping views with fellow hikers and… a wedding party! What a place to say “I Do”!

The way back down the chains is scary as hell. Going up, you can lean forward, power ahead, and all but ignore the steep drop below. Heading back down, you are confronted with it every step. It’s a terrifying journey and nothing short of sweet relief when you finally reach the bottom. Back in camp, we were visited by no less than three bears over the course of the night.

One came when we were still cooking dinner. He had a purple tag in his right ear and attempted to chase us off with a little stutter lunge. He succeeded in soiling our pants, though the collective noise of our yells eventually sent him scampering. Two more visits were made in the dark of the night. It was a restless night to say the least.

Day 2: Cloud’s Rest Jct to Cathedral Lake- 10.5 miles

“I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found.”

-John Muir

From our camp, the trail continued on a steep climb north. We made our way through a thin forest that showed blatant signs of the fire that had swept through the area in 2014. The distant landscape was full of granite domes and peaks, some still sporting some leftover snow.

Around midday we came to a highpoint that provided some really exceptional views of the Cathedral Range. We took our lunch and rested our weary legs.

Afterwards, the trail finally gave us a break and made its descent down to a wonderful meadow. A small creek meandered through the grass, carving a channel in the soft earth.

Above the meadow lies a High Sierra Camp called Sunrise. It consists of a small cafe and accommodation for those who wish to rough it in style. We filled up on water and pressed on. A short climb over a final pass brought us to the two-pronged Cathedral Mountain and a beautiful lake.

We set up camp along the shore and took a dip in the chilly water. Fighting off swarms of mosquitoes, we cooked our dinner and ate inside the shelter of our tents.

Day 3: Cathedral Lake to Tuolumne Meadows- 6.5 miles

“One touch of nature makes all the world kin.”

-John Muir

I rose early and was greeted with a layer of frost on the tent and backpacks. Packing up my things in a hurry, I took off before the rest of the group. I was pushing ahead to see about officially getting our JMT permit at the Tuolumne Meadows Ranger Station. There were few people up this early, but plenty of wildlife.

I arrived at the Backcountry Office about an hour before it opened and joined a line that was already 8 or so deep. No one else was going for the JMT so I obtained our permit with ease. Then I met the girls at the campground and dropped off my pack, before hopping on a bus back to Yosemite Valley. I battled crowds and horrendous traffic to drive our car back to Tuolumne Meadows where it would remain for the rest of our trip. We repacked our packs for what would now be the long haul, 13+ days on the trail! In camp, I chatted with a guy who was on a cross-country bike ride. We were mutually in awe of each other.

Day 4: Tuolumne Meadows to Over Donohue Pass- 13.5 miles

“Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life.”

-John Muir

We left Tuolumne Meadows behind and traced our route past the Permit office and beyond. For the early part of the day, the trail followed the scenic Lyell River through the canyon of its own making. We crossed bridges and lush meadows up this wonderful valley.

After several miles the trail led into the woods where we steadily gained elevation, ever heading towards the mountains to the south that signaled the trail’s first serious pass, Donohue. After lunch the tough climbing really began. From Tuolumne Meadows it’s an elevation gain of over 2,500 feet to the pass, with much of it being done in the last few miles. Switchbacks took us higher and higher, finally climbing above tree line to a delicate world where mountain peaks outnumber men.

We passed a gorgeous mountain tarn full of snowmelt that lie beneath the mighty Mount Lyell (13,144 ft), highest peak in Yosemite National Park. Through a jumble of strewn boulders and rocks we pressed on, reaching the indifferent pass on sheer determination. After barely a moment’s rest, we started down the other side. We made our camp in a meadow still in the shadows of the pass. A colorful sunset completed the toughest day on the trail yet.

Day 5: Donohue Pass to Lake Ediza- 12.5 miles

“The snow is melting into music.”

-John Muir

Among the boulders and clumps of grass, marmots had made quite a thriving community. As we packed up our stuff, they ran all about, curiously watching our activity. The trail today led straight towards the beautiful Ritter Range of mountains. We climbed a small pass and were rewarded with the most stunning of vistas.

Thousand Island Lake was sprawled out below the mighty Banner Peak, creating a stark contrast between the dark blue water and the light grey of the surrounding granite. True to its name, the lake had numerous tiny islands, though maybe not quite a thousand. Somehow, the views only got better. Just past this came another stunning lake called Garnett Lake. Snowy Mount Ritter loomed overhead creating quite a backdrop.

 I once again tested the waters on a few more chilly dives. Leaving the JMT behind for the day, we took a side trail out to Lake Ediza. I had been here before on a day hike and knew it would be well worth the extra mile or so. I carried Andrea’s pack as she was now badly limping with a swollen Achilles. That night, camped along the lakeshore, we heard a pack of coyotes calling their fellows. I chimed in and got a distant response. For a brief instant, I felt among them.

Day 6: Lake Ediza to Reds Meadow- 12.5 miles

“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”

-John Muir

I spent the morning exploring the rocky expanse and peaks that ringed the lake. Then, in keeping up with my streak, I took a dive in Ediza.

The morning hike saw more, smaller lakes on a descent that eventually led to Reds Meadow. After many unremarkable miles, we came to Devil’s Postpile National Monument. It was a unique site where the rock of a particular cliff side has formed perfect columns.

Below the cliff, sits the remnants of fallen columns. It was unlike anything I have seen before. In the campground just after Devil’s Postpile there used to be bath-houses to wash in, though apparently they have shut down in the last year or two. We pushed on to Reds Meadow Resort and a nice dinner in the restaurant. To avoid paying the campground fee, we camped in a spot a quarter-mile down the trail.

The Trip is Over…

“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

-John Muir

The next morning, over a hot breakfast back in the restaurant, it was decided that we were done hiking the JMT. Andrea’s ankle had swollen so much over the last two days, every step was now painful. Glenna’s foot was no better. She had aggravated it during our hike in the Narrows and was worried she wouldn’t make it either.

I was pretty disappointed. After riding the bus back to Tuolumne and driving our car to Mammoth Lakes, I decided to press on solo. Hiking at a furious pace, I tried to convince myself that this is what I wanted. It wasn’t. I exited the trail the next morning just past Duck Lake and joined up with the girls.

Tips for Future Hikers on the John Muir Trail

[custom_list icon=”globe”]

Make a back-up plan. It’s the last thing you want to think about when planning your trip, but either due to injuries, weather, or a million other reasons, most people don’t complete the entire trail. Have a plan for if you don’t.

Bring bug spray. I was surprised at how many mosquitoes we encountered.

Hiking is hard work, pack extra food.

The water is chilly, but dips in the mountain lakes are sooooo refreshing.

Be flexible with your itinerary. Set a goal for the day, but don’t attach yourself to it.

Avoid the poison oak ridden coast of Big Sur beforehand! Your legs will thank you.

Leave the bear spray at home. It isn’t allowed in Yosemite National Park and there are no grizzly bears in California.

Enjoy every moment. The trail won’t last forever and eventually you will be back to your everyday life.

[/custom_list]

In our six days on the trail we covered nearly 70 miles and saw some beautiful country. A big thank you to these two girls for joining me on such an amazing experience.

We will be back for more!

Injured on The John Muir Trail

#Ansel Adams Wilderness #California #John Muir Trail #Reds Meadow #Yosemite